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

by Kate Stayman-London

  “Over to you, Wyatt and Bea,” said Johnny. “Bea, what’s the craziest place you’ve ever had sex?”

  Bea sighed and figured if she was going to be ridiculed for her answer no matter what, she might as well tell the truth. “Get ready to be really shocked, everyone,” she said with what she hoped was a good-natured laugh. “My answer is, in bed!”

  The crowd was silent, and Bea saw some of the kids frown and tilt their heads with apparent pity. But she felt a surge of affection for Wyatt when he turned over his placard and she saw that he’d written “FASHION SHOW.”

  “Wow.” Bea laughed. “Looks like we really stereotyped each other.”

  She flipped over her own placard to show him she’d written “BARN,” but instead of laughing along, Wyatt flushed deep pink.

  “Wyatt?” Johnny prompted him. “Did Bea guess right?”

  Wyatt looked at the floor. “No,” he said quietly.

  “It’s okay,” Bea said gently. “I mean, you heard my answer, right? Whatever yours is, it’s fine.”

  He looked up to meet her gaze. “The answer is nowhere.”

  Bea was puzzled for a second—but then she realized what he meant.

  “So you’ve never …?”

  He shook his head.

  The gym was completely silent except for the sound of whirring generators. “That concludes our game!” Johnny said grandly, pushing through the sense of awkwardness that had settled over the crowd. “Bea and Wyatt, you were worthy competitors, but it looks like this year’s crowns will go to Cort and Tara!”

  Everyone clapped halfheartedly as the two teens donned their sparkly plastic headgear, and Johnny moved them quickly to the next portion of the night: the dancing. The kids poured onto the floor as the band kicked back up, and Bea and Wyatt grabbed some punch and went to sit on the bleachers. Bea was grateful for a chance for a more private conversation with Wyatt—even if they were still being filmed.

  “That took a lot of courage,” she told him.

  He shrugged. “Didn’t have much of a choice, I guess.”

  “That’s not true,” Bea argued. “You could have lied.”

  “With this poker face?” A small smile played on his lips. “You would have seen right through me.”

  Bea laughed warmly, and he threaded his fingers through hers.

  “Does it freak you out?” he asked. “That I’m … you know.”

  “No.” Bea shook her head. “It’s kind of a relief, actually.”

  Wyatt tilted his head. “Really? Why?”

  “I guess I just assumed I was the least experienced person here, because I’ve never been in a long-term relationship,” Bea said quietly. “It’s been really intimidating, feeling like—I don’t know. Like all of you would judge me, or not take me seriously. It makes me feel young, somehow.”

  Wyatt’s face lit up with recognition.

  “That’s it exactly,” he agreed. “There’s this part of me that feels stuck. Not quite grown-up.”

  “And being here, in my hometown—in this high school, even—it’s so acute, you know? Like I’m a teenager again, alone on prom night, feeling like a fool. Just some loser who’d only ever been kissed one time, who had no hope of ever finding a real boyfriend.”

  “At least you kissed someone,” Wyatt looked wistful. “I never kissed anyone in high school.”

  “Really?” Bea had no idea how to square the way this man looked with the things he was telling her. “Can I ask why not?”

  “I don’t know, really,” he mumbled. “I was pretty shy.”

  “I’m sorry,” Bea said. “I don’t mean to be nosy.”

  “No.” He looked at her intensely. “You’re trying to get to know me. I want that, Bea.”

  “You do?”

  He squeezed her hand. “I really do.”

  “I’m glad.” Bea smiled, thrown off guard by how different he seemed from the guys like him she’d known when she lived here. Or maybe that was the point—maybe those guys weren’t like him at all.

  “Let’s change the subject.” He smiled kindly. “Why don’t you tell the story of your first kiss?”

  Bea’s stomach clenched at the memory—the warm, flat beer, the smell of the woods, the scratches on her face from the branches that scraped her as she ran. The shame she’d felt when her brothers found her waiting by the car and asked if she’d had fun at the party.

  Wyatt clocked the ashen expression on Bea’s face.

  “I’m sorry—you don’t have to tell me,” he assured her.

  Part of Bea didn’t want to tell the story—didn’t want to relive the humiliation, and certainly didn’t want her brothers to find out what had really happened after all these years. But another part of her was moved by Wyatt’s bravery, by the way that everything about him subverted her expectations. By her own desire—one she couldn’t quite explain—to trust him.

  “Growing up, my brothers all played sports,” she started shakily. “Their friends were always around the house, and I mostly hid in my room, but sometimes they would be sweet to me, or joke around—make me feel like the kid sister in a movie, you know? They were loud and immature for the most part, but they had this one friend James who was really quiet. He was tall, and had this thick blond hair—he was on the football team with my brother Tim.”

  “You liked him?” Wyatt asked.

  “Yeah.” Bea felt her face flush, feeling so silly that even now, more than a decade later, while she was starring on a television show and James was who-knows-where, it still made her feel so small to admit she’d had a crush on a boy.

  “I thought the fact that he was quiet meant that he was shy, or secretly really deep.” She laughed uncomfortably. “I imagined that he wanted to have these intense conversations, that he would love having them with me. I thought it was some big secret that I liked him, but my brothers knew—Tim said something about it at dinner once, and I was so embarrassed. I left the table in tears.”

  “It’s okay that you’re sensitive,” Wyatt said softly. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of that.”

  “I wish he’d been more like you,” Bea said. “You’re the version of him that I actually wanted.”

  “What happened when he kissed you?” Wyatt asked.

  “Um,” Bea took a deep breath, “there was a party in the woods, a couple of weeks into my freshman year. Tim and Duncan brought me along, and at first it was so cool, you know? Talking with their friends, and the girls were so nice to me, making me feel like I belonged. But then … um. Then James asked if I wanted to go for a walk.”

  “And of course, you did.”

  “Of course I did! It seemed like a miracle, like somehow this secret wish I’d held for so long was becoming real.” Bea paused, a wave of nausea washing over her as she realized she’d used nearly the same words to describe her first kiss with Ray.

  “Anyway,” she went on, “he took me a little ways into the woods, away from everyone else. I thought maybe we would talk or something, but he was just on me, kissing me, shoving his hands under my dress. He was really rough with me. And I just—I didn’t want it. I was so afraid, and so confused because I’d imagined being with him for so long, but the reality was awful and terrifying and nothing like I’d hoped. After a couple of minutes I couldn’t take it, I started crying and begging him to get off me.”

  “Did he listen?” Wyatt asked carefully.

  “Yes,” Bea said firmly. “Thank God, he did. But he looked so disgusted with me. He said he only kissed me because my brothers asked him to. That no one else would want me, and I should be grateful. I said I was sorry—can you imagine? I apologized to him.”

  “Jeez.” Wyatt shook his head. “What happened then?”

  “Nothing. He went back to the party, and I hid by Tim’s car until it was time to leave. I was too ashamed to tell my brothers what happened. I assume James never told them either—or if he did, they never said anything about it to me.”

  Wyatt sighed heavily, like he was abs
orbing some of the weight of Bea’s past, lifting it off her shoulders and carrying it on his.

  “Bea,” he asked, “would it be okay if I hugged you?”

  “Very okay,” she whispered, and it felt so good to settle into Wyatt’s strong arms.

  “Do you think about James much?”

  “Not really.” She exhaled as she leaned comfortably against his chest. “But I guess there’s something about men who look like him—who look like you, who look like all the men here, if I’m honest. Some part of me that still feels like I should be grateful for any attention you show me, even if it’s nothing close to the way I want to be loved.”

  “What would happen if one of us proved you wrong?” Wyatt touched Bea’s hair gently, tipping her face up toward his. “What would you think then?”

  “I guess I’d have to reassess.” She smiled, and Wyatt leaned down to kiss her.

  It was a slow kiss, and quiet—a kiss that drew Bea in and spread warmth all through her body, a kiss that broke her heart a little as she realized the same sense of longing she’d felt as a teenager (for romance, for passion—hell, even for prom) was still screaming inside her. And the more she tried to push it down, to tell herself it didn’t matter, that she was fine being single, that she didn’t need any of this, the more it roared to the surface, threatening to dislodge everything she thought she believed.

  As they pulled apart, a few of the kids hooted and cheered, and Bea laughed for joy, for awkwardness, for absurdity. It was, she realized later, only the second time she’d ever been kissed in her hometown.

  TEXT MESSAGE TRANSCRIPT, MARCH 21: JON, TIM, AND DUNCAN SCHUMACHER

  Jon [11:18am]: What are you guys wearing to this thing? Is there a dress code?

  Tim [11:20am]: It’s just a cookout at Mom’s, we can wear anything

  Duncan [11:21am]: No, guys—no prints, no letters, no visible brands, remember? They laid it all out in the email from the producers

  Tim [11:22am]: ICE CREAM ICE CREAM ICE CREAM

  Jon [11:22am]:??

  Tim [11:23am]: Sorry, Amy got my phone

  Tim [11:24am]: We’ve got to present a united front, let these guys know they can’t mess with our sister

  Tim [11:24am]: We need to wear something that shows them we mean business

  Duncan [11:25am]: Like … business suits?

  Jon [11:25am]: If I wear a suit, Carol will want to change what she’s wearing, and I’m not getting into that again

  Tim [11:26am]: So what then?

  Duncan [11:27am]: Maybe we all wear gym clothes. Sweatpants, t-shirts with really big arm holes cut out, let these guys know we’re ready to GO if the circumstances dictate

  Jon [11:28am]: YES. That’s the move. We’re doing it.

  Tim [11:29am]: Really? Carol would let you wear sweatpants to be on TV?

  Jon [11:29am]: Man, who’s in charge in your marriage? I’m in, Duncan’s in. Are you in?

  Tim [11:30am]: Yeah, fuck it. I’m in.

  Tim [1:17pm]: You guys are fucking assholes

  Jon [1:17pm]: Hahahahahahahhaahhaahah

  Jon [1:17pm]: Dude, you look so stupid

  Tim [1:18pm]: You think this is funny? Tina spent all morning getting her hair done. She wants to murder me.

  Duncan [1:19pm]: Well, I wouldn’t advise her to try, you look like a serial killer

  Tim [1:19pm]: This is bullshit. I’m getting some ribs.

  Duncan [1:20pm]: As long as you didn’t remove them from one of your victims

  Jon [1:20pm]: I can’t believe you’re going to be on television looking like a gym rat

  Tim [1:21pm]: Is Bea mad?

  Jon [1:21pm]: No, she thinks it’s classic

  Jon [1:22pm]: Ugh that kindergarten teacher is coming to talk to me

  Jon [1:22pm]: He has his guitar

  Jon [1:22pm]: Help

  Tim [1:23pm]: I will not help

  Tim [1:23pm]: You deserve this

  Tim [1:24pm]: Enjoy itsy-bitsy spider, bitch

  Duncan [1:24pm]: Wow Tim, is that what you say right before you commit murder? Creepy tagline!

  Tim [1:25pm]: YOU GUYS SUCK

  Jon [1:58pm]: Okay, time to divide and conquer. Who’s talking to which guy?

  Duncan [1:58pm]: I’ve got Asher

  Tim [1:59pm]: Which one is that?

  Duncan [1:59pm]: The professor who ditched Bea at the museum!

  Jon [1:59pm]: Oh right, Carol was FURIOUS about that.

  Duncan [2:00pm]: Same. I need to figure out his angle

  Jon [2:00pm]: Cool. I’m gonna check on Luc

  Jon [2:00pm]: That guy is way too smooth

  Duncan [2:01pm]: Tim, you ready to do your thing with Nash and Cooper?

  Tim [2:01pm]: Hell yeah. I just need to go find Mom.

  “Hey, Bea—you haven’t seen Nash and Cooper, have you?”

  Lauren’s tone was casual, but Bea could see she was somewhat frantic.

  “Sorry, I haven’t.” Bea shook her head. “Did you check around the side of the house, where the maple grove is? The property extends further than you think over there, maybe they went for a walk?”

  “I’ll check that out—thanks!”

  Lauren headed that way, and Bea closed her eyes. Great. As if it weren’t stressful enough bringing ten men home to meet her family, now two of them had taken off entirely? And unlike the first night, this wasn’t Lauren’s doing; this was just Nash and Cooper deciding they’d had enough of even pretending to be interested in dating Bea. Not that she was remotely interested in either of them, obviously—but it still stung to know their disappearance (and the producers’ subsequent search for them) would certainly be yet one more humiliating plotline on this week’s episode.

  Add it to the list, Bea thought, mentally ticking them off: The man who walked off on the first night. All the men who didn’t, but who were shocked and horrified to meet her. The myriad horrors of the boat. And worst of all, Asher lulling her into believing, just for a second, that any of this could be real.

  But what about Sam? a small voice fired back. What about Wyatt?

  Bea scanned the yard and saw that Sam and Wyatt were both embroiled in a high-stakes game of capture the flag along with a couple other guys and several of the older kids. Sam broke into a grin and waved to Bea when he saw her watching—she felt a pang in her gut as she waved back. She wanted so badly to believe that this was possible for her, that she could have a husband and children and easy Sunday gatherings like this one.

  But everything inside her told her that she couldn’t.

  “Bea, may I steal you for a moment?”

  Per usual, Bea felt an involuntary lurch of attraction when she saw Luc, who looked perfect in strategically rumpled slacks and a white button-down. He had two glasses of rosé in hand—the man knew how to make an entrance.

  “Of course.” Bea smiled, trying to shove aside her stormy thoughts and enjoy her time with a man who might not be genuinely interested in her, but who at least seemed to genuinely take pleasure in her company.

  Bea hadn’t spent any one-on-one time with Luc since the night of the crème brûlée and their kiss—she remembered how comfortable she felt with him as they walked over to a patio area near a tall oak tree, where they sat on an outdoor loveseat. Bea’s fuchsia Mara Hoffman sweater dress was warm and soft, the wine was cool and fresh, and everything felt tactile as Luc slid his arm around her waist.

  “I have missed you,” he said softly. “Is that ridiculous to say? I know it hasn’t been long.”

  “It feels like it’s been a long time.”

  “Ah, but for you it feels long because you have seen so many men, done so many things. For me it feels long because I have thought only of you.”

  Bea rolled her eyes. “Come on, that’s not true.”

  He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, his lips lingering near her ear. “You have no idea how dull it was in that house.”

  “Hey! How’s it going?” Bea’s brother Jon broke the moment as he plop
ped down in a chair across from them.

  “Good.” Bea cleared her throat. “This is Luc—Luc, meet my oldest brother, Jon. Luc is a chef from France.”

  The two men shook hands. “France, huh? Hope you’re not too bored here in unglamorous Ohio.”

  “Where I come from, in Normandy, is not so different from this.”

  “Is that true?” Bea asked. “You come from the countryside?”

  “Yes, I grew up near a city called Rouen, north of Paris, not far from the coast? You may know it as the city where Joan of Arc was burned at the stake.”

  “Oh, so you guys have cool progressive ideas about women.”

  “Exactement.” Luc laughed, and Jon looked brightly from him to Bea.

  “You two seem to be getting along. You like each other?”

  Bea flushed red and shot her brother a dirty look.

  “I cannot speak for Bea,” Luc replied, “but yes, I like her very much.”

  “What do you like about her?”

  “Jon!”

  “What?”

  “That’s a ridiculous question!”

  “What’s a ridiculous question?” Tim ambled over in his truly ridiculous sweatpants.

  “Luc just said he likes Bea, and I was asking why,” Jon explained as Tim helped himself to a seat. “He’s French,” Jon added with rather more distaste than necessary.

  “Ugh, guys, can we not?” Bea protested.

  “Are you embarrassed by this?” Luc turned to Bea.

  “Yes, obviously.”

  “Why should you be? I am not embarrassed to say that I like very much your wit, and your company, and the way you get warm in your face anytime you’re annoyed, like you are with me now.” He ran a finger along her cheek, and she laughed and sighed in exasperation. Luc turned back to Jon and Tim.