One To Watch: this summer's must-read romcom to fill the Love Island-shaped hole in your life

by Kate Stayman-London

  Duncan and Julia got married three years later, and they had their first baby in December; Bea met their newborn daughter this past Christmas, the first family gathering where all three of her brothers had children.

  That Christmas morning, fewer than three months ago, while everyone gathered in pajamas to open presents, Bea had closed her eyes and let herself imagine Ray beside her, gently rubbing her back as the assorted kids ran around in total mayhem. She traveled back in time and superimposed him into every family memory: Ray laughing at her terrible dresses at Jon’s and Tim’s weddings, murmuring in her ear that he couldn’t wait to rip them off her; Ray holding her and gently swaying during Duncan and Julia’s first dance; a teenage Ray, five years younger than she’d ever known him, squeezing her hand while Jon and Carol posed for happy photos, saying, Don’t worry, Bea. Someday, that’ll be us.

  It was the worst Christmas Bea could remember.

  And now, twelve weeks later, never having brought a boyfriend home in her life, Bea was on a plane to Columbus accompanied by ten men, a mobile production crew, a literal truckload of gear, and, soon enough, the prying eyes of several million Americans.

  She wasn’t worried about her family being tough on her suitors—frankly, she’d probably find it satisfying if they were. But if her mother actually liked any of these guys, Bea would never hear the end of it. “Why couldn’t you make things work with that nice Frenchman? Or what about that professor? He was so charming, so smart!”

  Yes, Mom, I was unbelievably charmed when the thought of kissing me so disgusted him that he physically jerked away from me. What a long and happy life we’ll have together.

  It still stung to think of Asher at the museum, how stupidly caught up in the moment she’d been, how much she’d believed that he was legitimately interested in her, and vice versa. He was probably trying to convince himself he was evolved enough to be attracted to a fat woman, but when the moment arrived, he couldn’t actually bring himself to kiss her. Bea had met this type plenty of times, sat through any number of Tinder dates with some guy who was obviously mentally weighing how badly he wanted to get laid (this type of man assumed, just as Marco had, that a woman who looked like Bea would say yes and be grateful for any sex they offered). These dates always ended the same way: a strained expression, a stilted handshake or hug or peck on the cheek, an immovable sense on Bea’s part that what she felt hadn’t mattered at all.

  Except, an annoying little voice contradicted, when she danced with Asher, it certainly didn’t seem like he was brushing her off. The way he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close—he was reveling in her body, not repulsed by it. But maybe that was just wishful thinking. Or maybe he’d cut the night short for some other reason. She didn’t want to know. She agreed to keep him around for another week at Lauren’s insistence, but on one condition: that he stay the hell away from her. Bea couldn’t imagine that would be a problem. He’d made it clear that that was what he wanted.

  TRANSCRIPT OF PRODUCER INTERVIEW WITH BEA’S MOTHER AND STEPFATHER

  Conducted prior to cast arrival

  Producer: What was Bea like as a kid?

  Sue: Oh, Bea was a dream of a child! So serious, so focused on her books, from the time she was a toddler, isn’t that right, Bob? She didn’t mind at all that she had so few friends; she was always really committed to her studies.

  Sue: Well, you know how girls are when they’re young, so cliquish. Bea was terribly shy, so she had a hard time making impressions on the other children. By the time she made it to high school, I think she was just more comfortable on her own. I always said that Bea was a late bloomer, that she’d find herself when she went off to college. Didn’t I always say that, Bob? And that is exactly what happened.

  Producer: What about boyfriends? Did Bea have a high school sweetheart?

  Sue: Oh no, the boys always brought their girlfriends around the house, but Beatrice never brought home any boys, She’s always been very private—we even thought for a while she might be gay, didn’t we, Bob? Remember, when she joined the theater crew and wore all that black? We thought we might have a lesbian on our hands, which would have been fine, we just wanted her to feel supported, that was always the main thing!

  Bob: The theater crew wears black so they can move things around onstage without the audience seeing.

  Sue: That’s true, it’s very practical—and black can be very slimming. You know, we didn’t have many options for Bea’s clothes while she was growing up. With her size and our budget, we mostly shopped at Target. When she was younger, she would wear the most darling things, flowery dresses and the like, but then in high school she just wanted to wear black. These baggy T-shirts—not flattering.

  Bob: You got the sense she didn’t want to draw attention.

  Producer: Why do you think that was?

  Bob: The kids here never bullied Bea—not overtly. Sue and I are both teachers at the elementary school, so we could keep an eye on her when she was there. As she got older, the other kids started to leave her out, not invite her to parties, that sort of thing. The longer that went on, the more she saw it as a kind of safety. If the other kids just didn’t pay her any mind, that meant they weren’t being cruel, either. But being ignored is its own kind of hurtful.

  Producer: When did you notice a change in Bea? In her personality, her appearance?

  Bob: After Paris.

  Sue: Paris, that’s right. She went abroad for her junior year, and when she came home, she was a changed person. She wore the strangest clothes, she had this one velvet cape she never took off—it was like she was a character in Batman! None of us knew what to make of it, but it made her so happy, and she was so much louder than she’d ever been. It was a real joy—it felt like we were meeting our daughter all over again.

  Producer: Are you surprised she’s starring on a TV show, given how shy she used to be?

  Sue: We were certainly surprised when she told us—she’d never expressed interest in doing anything like this!

  Bob: But it makes sense. She has her videos she does on Instagram, and all her fans who love her so much.

  Producer: Do you watch her videos?

  Bob: We both do, we watch every single one. In an emergency, I think I could do a very competent French tuck.

  Producer: What kind of man would you like to see Bea end up with?

  Sue: Someone who wants children!

  Producer: You’re ready for some grandkids, huh?

  Bob: We have six, we see them every Sunday.

  Sue: But it’s different with Bea. She’s my only daughter, and she’s so far away—oh, I would just love for her to have a baby and come home a little more. And a wedding! With all her style, wouldn’t that be a treat? Bob, we could do it at the church, and Ernesto’s could cater.

  Bob: Let’s meet the men she’s dating before we start planning the reception, okay?

  Sue: If she gets engaged on the show, do you think they’d get married this year? A fall wedding would be so romantic with all the leaves.

  Bob: We want Bea to be happy. That’s the main thing. We really want her to be happy.

  HIGHLIGHTS FROM WYATT AMES’S MAIN SQUEEZE APPLICANT SURVEY, AS POSTED ON ABS.COM

  Name: Wyatt Ames

  Occupation: Wheat farmer

  Hometown: Boone, Oklahoma

  Where would you most like to travel? Maybe Finland, or Alaska? I’d love to see the Northern Lights.

  If you could have any career, what would you do? I love working with my family. But if that weren’t a factor, I might like to work with horses, or maybe in an animal hospital.

  Do you have any tattoos? My sister and I both got our dad’s initials on our shoulders after he passed. We took his truck and snuck up to Tulsa to get them. When we got home, our mom was waiting up for us—we thought she was going to be so mad. But the next day, she drove us back to the parlor so she could get one too.

  “Okay,” Alison tittered, “open your eyes!”

  “Wh
at the hell is this?” Bea blurted before she could stop herself. She was in the designated hair/makeup/wardrobe conference room at the Econo Lodge where they were staying, and she was positively surrounded by long, sparkling dresses.

  “They’re for your date with Wyatt,” Alison clarified, as if this explained anything at all.

  “In Cheshire, Ohio?” Bea was incredulous. “The only time I’ve ever even seen anyone in town dress this formally is—wait. No. Alison, no.”

  Alison laughed with unbridled glee. “It’s prom night, baby!”

  And so it was that Bea ended up in a slinky Badgley Mischka gown embroidered with ombré sequins that shifted in the light from navy blue to deep turquoise. With sky-high heels and her hair pinned back in glossy curls, Bea felt like she was finally getting the glamorous pre-prom experience she’d yearned for in high school.

  “See?” Alison reassured her. “Not a disco ball at all.”

  “More like that sparkly dress Ariel wears when she comes out of the water at the end of The Little Mermaid.”

  “Oh my God, a forever look,” Alison exclaimed. “My little mermaid finally has her legs.”

  “Changing her body to please a man, just like everyone,” Bea quipped.

  “Not you.” Alison draped her arms around Bea affectionately.

  “Yeah, well. Couldn’t if I wanted to!”

  Bea thought back to her adolescence in this place, the years of fad diets and attempted starvation that never resulted in a loss of more than five or ten pounds (always immediately regained the second she ate a normal meal). No matter what she did, Bea was always the fattest girl in school, and maybe also the quietest, doing whatever she could to escape unwanted attention. As she rode in a limousine toward the small park in the center of town where she was meeting Wyatt—towering oak trees, a picturesque gazebo strung with fairy lights, and a small crowd of people cheering and waving posters, waiting to welcome home their town’s most famous daughter—she had the sense that if she wasn’t quite rewriting history tonight, she was, at least in some small way, righting it.

  It was all a little surreal, but as Bea emerged from the limo, she thought the craziest part of all might just be the man who was waiting for her: Tall, broad, and golden, Wyatt looked every inch the football hero Bea remembered—except, in a perfectly fitted tuxedo, he was no longer the casual farmer in boots and jeans.

  Tonight, he was the prom king.

  “You look so pretty.” He smiled shyly as she approached him, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

  “You too,” she sputtered, suddenly very aware of the onlookers surrounding them.

  “I got this for you.” He held out a plastic box, and Bea felt like they were reenacting a memory she didn’t have as she held out her wrist and he slipped on the red rose corsage. “Well, the producers did. It’s nice, though, don’t you think?”

  Bea kissed his cheek and agreed that it was.

  “Aren’t you chivalrous,” Bea joked as he held open the limo door, and he blushed bright red. Even though Wyatt was ruggedly handsome, the total picture of idealized Marlboro Man masculinity, there was something fragile about him—something Bea couldn’t explain but instinctively felt she needed to protect. It was a bizarre sensation, particularly since the rest of the men in the house could seem like a many-headed Hydra, different faces of one monster ready to attack.

  “What was your prom like?” Bea asked when they were in the limo and en route to her old high school, two cameras rolling to capture their conversation.

  “I don’t know,” Wyatt admitted. “I stayed home.”

  “Really?” Bea was taken aback. “But you were on the football team, right? In our school, those guys were like kings.”

  “I wasn’t really part of that,” Wyatt demurred. “The other guys—we got along and everything, but we didn’t really spend time together outside practice.”

  “Why not?” Bea was genuinely curious.

  Wyatt shrugged. “Different interests.”

  “Oh,” Bea replied, wanting to know more, but not about to pry.

  “What about you?” He nudged her knee. “I’ll bet you were the best-dressed girl at your prom.”

  Bea shook her head. “I didn’t go either.”

  “How come?”

  “No one to go with.” Bea sighed. “I was friends with the theater tech kids; we were kind of antisocial. School dances were so not their scene.”

  “But you wanted to go, didn’t you?”

  Bea felt her chest tighten. She didn’t just want to go—she’d been absolutely desperate.

  “I made my stepdad tape Pretty in Pink off cable, and I watched it over and over,” Bea confessed. “I thought Andie was so brave, going to prom alone. But she was beautiful, and all these guys secretly loved her. If I went to prom alone, everyone would have laughed.”

  “Why did you think that?” Wyatt coaxed gently. “Were people at your school mean to you?”

  Bea thought back to another football player—blond and tall, like Wyatt, but where Wyatt was gentle, he’d been rough. Where Wyatt was warm and inquisitive, he’d been cold and indifferent, his existence a daily punishment for Bea having had the audacity to have feelings for him.

  “No.” Bea smiled as she lied. “They were fine.”

  Cheshire High’s real prom wasn’t until late May—that would be a rubbery chicken dinner at a local banquet venue with ostentatious carpets and faux gilt chandeliers. This “prom,” staged for the purpose of this week’s episode, was a bonus dance funded by the Main Squeeze production. The Cheshire High School gym, scene of many of Bea’s athletic humiliations and faked period cramps to avoid the same, was decked out with streamers, balloons, and swirls of rainbow-colored spotlights, and filled to the brim with high school kids in off-brand formalwear dancing to the music of some band no one had heard of (whose label had surely paid for this opportunity to get them on TV). The band—which was actually pretty good, Bea noted, punky women in black lipstick and torn fishnets—was playing on a makeshift stage the crew had constructed under one of the basketball nets, illuminated by heavy production lights.

  Bea and Wyatt waited to make their big entrance in a far less glamorous location: the gym’s equipment closet, lined with smelly pinnies and stacks of basketballs.

  “Are you nervous?” Wyatt asked her.

  “A little,” Bea admitted. “Teenagers are terrifying.”

  Wyatt looked wan; Bea realized he was considerably more tense than she was. The band finished its song, and Bea and Wyatt’s field producer ushered them into place for their entrance. They heard thunderous applause as Johnny took the stage and shouted, “Cheshire High, how are you doing tonight?”

  The kids cheered gamely, and in a matter of moments, the producer was shoving Bea and Wyatt through the door and into the gym, where they pushed toward the stage despite a blinding spotlight and what felt like a throng of screaming fans, light and noise pressing in on them from every angle.

  “Give it up for Cheshire’s own Bea Schumacher!” Johnny shouted as Bea and Wyatt ascended the stairs to the little stage, and the kids applauded. “So, Bea, I understand you never went to a dance when you were in high school. What do you think of your very first prom?”

  Bea heard some snarky murmurs from the kids—terrific, one more moment of feeling like a loser in the Cheshire High gym.

  “So far, so good.” She forced a smile.

  “Well, what would you say if I told you that you and Wyatt had been voted prom king and queen?”

  Bea eyed Johnny skeptically. “I would say the voting was pretty well rigged, since none of these people have ever met me?”

  The kids laughed appreciatively, as did Johnny. “You’ve got us there, Bea. As a matter of fact, the students chose their own prom king and queen as well—let’s welcome Cort and Tara to the stage!”

  The kids started screaming and cheering again as two teenagers bounded up to join Bea and Wyatt—a guy in a rented tux who was tall and handsome and absolut
ely a basketball player (or maybe a football player? or maybe both?) and a girl who was blond and teensy in her lacy pink dress.

  “Okay, you four,” Johnny said conspiratorially, “since there can only be one true prom king and queen, what do you say we have a little competition to see who wins the crown? It’s time to play the prom date game!”

  Bea had no idea what that meant, but it turned out the “prom date game” was a barely reimagined version of The Newlywed Game, wherein Bea and Wyatt would compete against Cort and Tara to see how well they knew their respective prom dates. This didn’t seem quite fair to Bea, considering that Cort and Tara had presumably spent more than ten minutes in each other’s company prior to tonight, but it was no use protesting. A PA handed them all squares of poster board and thick black markers, and they wrote down responses to a list of questions before Johnny publicly grilled them to reveal their answers. Five rounds into the seven-round game, Cort and Tara had, predictably, won every single time.

  “What,” Johnny asked dramatically to begin round six, “is your prom date’s favorite condiment?”

  Bea guessed Wyatt’s correctly (“She’s right, I do love ketchup”), and revealed her own proclivity for sour cream (“It goes with every kind of potato!”), before Cort was forced to admit he’d misread the question when he flipped over a placard that read “Trojans.”

  “It’s mustard, Cort.” Tara shook her head disdainfully. “He knows how much I love mustard.”

  Cort hung his head in shame as Bea and Wyatt grinned at each other, pleased to have finally won a round of the game—but their victory was to be short-lived.

  “Okay, guys, we saved the best for last,” Johnny effused. “What is the craziest place your prom date has ever had sex? Or, Cort and Tara, the craziest place they’ve ever been kissed, in your case?”

  Cort and Tara exchanged a knowing look, and Tara giggled. “Whatever you say, Johnny.”

  The teens were answering first this round, and it was clear there was no question as to whether they’d guessed correctly: They were both holding back uncontrollable laughter as they shouted “Mr. Asalone’s classroom!” in unison, which was met with a roar of cheers and applause from the rest of the kids. Cort and Tara high-fived, and while Bea was happy for the teens’ sex-positive attitude, it certainly didn’t make her feel better about the answer she was about to give.