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Sammy liked Topher, she knew that much. That idea came to her naturally. The sky was blue, Jasmine’s birthday was in August, humans breathed in oxygen, and Sammy liked Topher.
She wasn’t quite sure why she liked him, she assumed it was for superficial reasons: his great skin, great hair, amazing ass. She was also quite fond of his eyes, they were green like trees, moss and other nature-related things, Sammy could probably list every plant they reminded her of, they looked so relaxed yet so demanding. They were just so alive. Sammy never really cared that much about life, she didn’t have much to offer it. Offer him. Her own sea-blue eyes looked dull in comparison, like algae breathing life into a decaying ocean.
She’d never mention it to Jasmine, it’d be too embarrassing - imagine admitting she has a crush on someone she used as a battering ram? She’d probably laugh and reference something Australian, then she’d sigh after realising Sammy was being serious. Then she would probably remind her that Topher was a jerk (and out of her league, but Jasmine would always say Sammy was pretty, no matter how often she disagreed), and sure, maybe she had a point.
He called her a weirdo, well, he said she had ‘weirdoness’. She hadn’t paid much attention at the time, too caught up in the stress of the challenge and the whole twin-switch thing. She rewatched the episode sometime after she got home and she couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge in her heart when he said that, but she knew better than to feel like that - they’d barely interacted back on the island, what right did she have chasing something so far out of reach? Still, the statement rang in her ears all throughout the night as she tossed and turned, unable to get his stupid voice out of her stupid head.
She imagined smacking him down with the jousting stick into the cold water. She imagined embracing him and resting her face on his warm chest. Sammy hugged her pillow tighter, nuzzling further into it as she tried to think of anything else. Anything except the past and her own feelings and failures.
After all, she couldn’t blame him for her weirdoness.
***
Topher was unsure how he felt about her. Sure, she was cute, her blonde hair delicately framed her round face, and her lips were painted like the red carpet. Perfectly inviting, sometimes Topher found himself staring at them for a bit too long.
He also liked the way her name slipped from those lips when she first corrected him, he hadn’t listened back on the island, but he thought Sammy sounded better than ‘Samey’ (imagine his surprise when he mentioned that she should change her name to it only to learn that it was already her actual name). ‘Samey’ dragged on like bile from the throat, like a has-been clinging onto any sludge of fame - no way it would catch on to any official merch outside of the whole twin thing, Sammy sounded far cleaner, the shorter syllables built up a great rhythm for the promos. He didn’t know what Chris was thinking letting that crappy nickname stick, cruelty over quality he supposed. No wonder he was hosting toddler shows now.
But Sammy was weird. She didn’t speak unless spoken to first, she spent her time staring at the dirt, and those rose-like lips were always curved in a frown, never in bloom. He often wondered what a girl like her was doing on international TV.
Plus there was the stuff her sister (Andy? Annie?) would say: ‘Samey the attention hog, Samey the drama queen, Samey the bully’. Topher didn’t care enough to listen - isn’t attention the reason they’re all here, anyway? He remembered after the first challenge she’d followed him and (Sarah? Charlotte?) around, telling them all kinds of tales of how her sister had tormented her in the past, of how she had to wait fifteen minutes for her to be born (the redhead girl then said something about the complications of childbirth, Topher was wondering what a host’s salary would be).
He had ran into Sammy afterwards, she had apologised for almost bumping into him, Topher hadn’t paid much attention at the time (he barely remembered she was even on his team). She then complimented him on how he did in the challenge, but for whatever reason, her pretty eyes were still focused on the dirt. Topher had laughed and said she wasn’t half bad either, he was almost sure her face had turned a light shade of pink before she left to follow (Yasmine? Probably) around.
She hardly seemed like the picture her sister had painted of her, she could barely string a coherent sentence together never mind manipulate anyone, she had a mouse-ish quality that he was sure the audience would find endearing. He didn’t know what to make of it. Topher had never met a ‘mean girl’ so quiet, but the rest of the team went along with it, so he did too. He wished he made a better impression, sometimes.
Topher really liked the way she made a scene at the picnic, how she raised like a spotlight and came crashing down like a curtain. Those red lips sparking and bursting like a movie star meltdown, like a real life bombshell breakdown in those paparazzi videos he used to watch late into the night.
Sammy wasn’t a celebrity though, she wasn’t an actress scorched in scandal, she wasn’t a washed up wannabe. She was simply a girl on camera, a camera that only caught the ugly, the rumours, the photoshopped paintings. Strangely, that pulled Topher in more than any gossip show could have. She was real, and that was everything to him. She exploded like a star stranded in nothingness, a shine of extravagance before it was back to obscurity. She was his star, he watched like a tabloid.
Sammy was gone before he could even congratulate her on the drama she brought. The cannon made a shooting star of her (or so he thought anyway). It was when her light had fizzled out that he realised that he maybe he did like her - whatever like meant, anyway.
He didn’t vote for her that night. He’s pretty sure he was the only one who didn’t.