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Chapter Text

Prologue

ELODIE

“Rule no. 1: Daily Schedule. Contestants are required to be present in filming areas (find a detailed list below) from 12:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. daily, excepting Sundays,” I read out loud from the stack of papers in my hand. My sister, currently raiding my fridge, gives a small cry of triumph. A moment later she sits opposite me at my small kitchen table, the Blueberry Cheesecake I baked this morning now sitting in the middle of the table with two forks stabbed into its center.
“Rule no. 2: Weekly challenges will occur on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which contestants must attend and participate in while being filmed,” I continue dryly. My sister, now stuffing her face with cheesecake, only looks up once before resuming her imaginative cake-eating-challenge. I sigh dramatically and continue reading the contract my sister presented to me not even five minutes ago.
“Rule no. 3: For the entire duration of the show and filming process, contestants are not allowed to use phones or any other mobile devices. Contestants must keep themselves entertained with items provided by the production team. Dottie, are you hearing this?” my voice is edged with panic.
Dorothy, now almost halfway done with the cheesecake, nods and goes back to shovelling cake into her stuffed mouth. “A bit of digital detox never hurt anybody.”
I cringe at the crumbs almost falling out of her mouth as she talks. With a heavy sigh, I reach out and drag the cake to my side of the table.
“Dorothy Adara Parker,” I try to make my voice sound calm. But the use of her full name is pretty much the equivalent to blaring a horn in her face and she looks at me with wide eyes. Her usually bright sea-green gaze looks dull, the heavy bags under her eyes making them look darker than usual. “Dottie, why did you think it was a good idea to sign up for this? I know you like to watch these sex shows on Netflix. But did you really have to sign up for one?”
“It’s not one of those sex shows, Ellie.” She rolls her eyes at me. “It doesn’t even sound that bad. I admit, I didn’t realize I would be filmed at least six hours a day.”
“There is literally no privacy. You are expected to hang out in common areas half the day. You are expected to go on dates and do challenges regularly while being filmed all the time. You can’t even bring a phone or a laptop. There is no way to communicate with the outside world. You are completely cut off.” Dottie shrugs and purses her lips while my hands start to shake at what she has gotten herself into. I ignore the pang in my heart of Dottie having no trouble at all to leave me for four weeks. She has always been the adventurous one. I usually wait for her to drag me somewhere, even though I might love traveling as much as her. I’ve never actually tried.
“Look, I know it sounds kind of weird and, I admit, definitely like one of those temptation shows I like to watch. But it’s not really like that at all. It’s a dating show. There are six women and six men and you go on dates. Simple as that. And not even every day! Just on the weekends. In the meantime, you just live together and probably get to know each other there too. Maybe even have a good fuck.” I cringe at her crude language. “And for some reason they might film you while watching TV or going for a swim in the swimming pool or in the fucking ocean! It’s on an island! Did you even read that part? In the Caribbean, El”, Dottie exclaims. “You could definitely do worse for four weeks. You know how much I’ve been dreaming about living out my rich girl fantasies.” Why does everything she says always make some kind of sense? For me this experience would be absolute hell. But for her? The way she describes this, it’s basically a free holiday.
“So, you signed up for this over five months ago?” She nods and I take a big breath. I’m trying my best to be calm and get all the facts of this situation. “And now you’ve met someone and you don’t want to participate in this dating thing anymore?” Again, she nods her head, the purple tips of her waist-length blonde hair bobbing along. She hasn’t told me about this guy. But that isn’t completely out of the ordinary. Dottie isn’t one to wear rose-coloured glasses. She doesn’t call me after a date to tell me about all the romantic little things a guy did right. She only calls me when her heart is broken, needing me to piece them back together. Or when she’s had an ‘exceptional lay’ and wants to force her sister to listen to her describe her orgasms in horrifying detail. Normally. But this whole situation is far from ordinary. The Dottie I know wouldn’t let a chance like this go to waste for a guy.
“Then what’s the problem? They won’t allow you to back out?” My hands are already skimming through the thick stack of papers making up the contract on the table.
Dottie sighs audibly and stops my hands, grabbing the last sheet of paper from beneath the stack and slowly pushing it in front of me. Silently, I read. My eyes widen by the seconds. Almost unconsciously, my hand reaches for the second fork, still stabbed into the cheesecake. I grab a big forkful of the cake and shove it into my mouth.
“Now you understand why I look like this,” Dottie mumbles, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face. “I’m doing quite well financially at the moment, but I really can’t afford to pay $25,000 compensation.”
“No, of course not. This is outrageous!” My emotions always get the better of me and today is no different. Crumbs fly out of my mouth and I can’t even get myself to care. “Did you try to call them? Did you know about this when you signed the contract?”
“Of course, I knew about this clause. No way in hell did I think I would want to back out. It’s a free vacation after all. And I did call them. I even met with someone yesterday to talk about it personally, but they wouldn’t budge. That asshole guy I met said it’s too close to the filming date and it would be impossible to find a replacement and do the needed background checks on short notice as it starts in less than two weeks. It’s either paying the compensation for their inconvenience or doing the show.” Dottie’s voice trembles and my whole body goes into panic mode. Dottie is the strong one. Dottie is the one with a backbone. The one who I have only seen cry five times in my whole 26 years of living. She is the one who always knows what do to and somehow bullshits her way through situations when she doesn’t. This is serious.
“Who is this guy anyway? You haven’t mentioned him before.”
“Oh, Ellie”, Dottie sighs and my body goes cold as I see tears making their way down her cheek. This is so out of character for her. My sister is not emotional. She doesn’t let a basically paid vacation, if you don’t mind the cameras and the pressure, go to waste because of a guy. In only the last two years, she has had more romantic partners than me in my entire life. “Gary is the most wonderful man. He is caring, funny, hardworking and nothing like I ever imagined falling in love with. But I am in love. El. I’m utterly in love with him.” She is full on crying now, her whole body shaking with her sobs. My eyes threaten to well over too. Having always been her polar opposite, I might be the biggest cry-baby there is. And seeing my sister like this isn’t helping. “We met three months ago and I tried so hard not to fall for him. I even told him about the show and the contract I signed, but we are like magnets. We just can’t stay away from each other. And I feel so safe with him. I feel seen. He really understands me. And I understand him, and for the first time in my life, love just seems easy. Natural. And I don’t want to jeopardize it. I don’t want to do the show. I don’t want to spend time with any other men.” Her voice is close to hysteria now and my heart aches for her. “Can you believe any of these words just came out of my mouth?” Her laugh is close to hysteria.
If she wasn’t sitting in my kitchen with blueberry cream smeared around her lips and tears streaming down her face, I wouldn’t have believed any of what she just said. I probably would have laughed in her face. But this is real. With every fibre of my body, I know she means every word.
The thing is: I have always believed in soul mates. I have always believed in hearts aligning and bodies feeling like home to one another. Even though I have never experienced it and maybe never will, I believe in it. My friends always used to tease me for being a hopeless romantic. Dottie has called me a delusional lunatic for reading fantasy books about two people literally having been born for on another more often than I could ever count. But now my sister is looking at me in a way she has never looked at me. Like her world will really be destroyed if she ruins this chance at love.
Naturally I know what to do to make sure my sister gets her happy ending. Naturally, it will be my demise.
Trying not to think about what I am getting myself into, I grab hold of her hands. The tears in her eyes make them look like the green waters of the Caribbean Sea. The place I will be heading to in less than two weeks and the exact mirror to mine.
“Dottie,” I look directly into her eyes and hold her gaze. “Let’s do the ultimate twin-switch”.

Chapter Text

GRAYSON
“I think her flight was delayed. She should be here soon, Gray,” Edgar’s voice sounds from my phone. “Wipe that scowl off your face before she arrives.” I scowl harder and press the red button on my phone. Edgar is usually accurate when reading my emotions, even over the phone. I absolutely hate it.
Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I wander over to a spot near the exit of the miniscule airport. A few people are still milling around from the last flight that arrived about thirty minutes ago. Unfortunately, also the time I have been waiting here for my pick-up duty.
I eye the occupied seats in the smallest fucking airport longingly when a horde of people finally file into the hall. The luggage conveyor seems to awaken too, spurring once before getting into motion as if too surprised of the arrival of another flight. An array of people shuffles over to the conveyor, standing in each other’s ways and doing their best to inconvenience each other as best as possible as they all fight for the finest spot.
I push off the wall I have been leaning against when a familiar figure appears among the hungry mass of people. Her blonde hair is messily coiled into a bun at the nape of her pale neck, a hoodie knotted around her slender waist and a small bright yellow suitcase with purple hearts all over it grabbed in one of her hands.
What an atrocity of a suitcase.
She cranes her neck to look over the crowd of people and hurries to an open spot at the conveyor belt. I see the atrocity’s twin, only thrice as big, gliding over to her immediately. She grabs the handle and pulls hard. She must have packed a crap load of make-up, shoes, bricks, whatever a woman like her needs to survive, because she actually fails to pick up the suitcase.
Exasperated, she blows away a stray lock of her hair from her face and promptly lets go of her carry-on to hurry after her bigger suitcase as it continues on its way.
An unamused snort escapes me. Grabbing her deserted carry-on, I follow her to an empty spot on the other side of the conveyor belt. She reaches for her suitcase at the same time as me and for a moment doesn’t seem to realize that I’m the one lifting it up. Lighter than I expected. Her background in kickboxing was either hugely exaggerated in the interviews, or her long flight has robbed her of muscle control.
Her lips lift into a self-satisfied smile when the suitcase is placed in front of her. Then her mouth flattens when she notices the other hand stuck to the suitcase and then finally the carry-on hanging from my other hand.
Her gaze follows the line of my body and when her eyes meet mine, I raise my eyebrows at her.
“You’re late,” I greet her, annoyance evident in my voice. I wait for her snide remarks, the arrogant smile to settle on her face as she looks down at everything and everyone. The three interviews beforehand, and the meeting about two weeks ago where she actually tried to get out of the contract, have prepared me for her attitude. Not unlike most people on these shows.
But her eyes widen, the dark lashes in stark contrast to the light colour of her eyes. Blue? Green? I can’t decide. I hadn’t looked that closely before during the meetings and I almost want to take a step closer to her. Bend my head down to hers and study the colour. Take a photo.
“I-I’m sorry,” she stutters despite her voice sounding clear and strong. Her tone, however, lacks the haughty undertone I was expecting. “My flight was delayed half an hour and I didn’t think to inform anyone. I’m sorry.” She clears her throat, looking anywhere but me for a moment before looking up at me with sincerity clear in her eyes. They look soft. Deep. 'It’s fine' is already forming in my mouth, when I suddenly catch myself. What the actual fuck? I frown at myself, at her, at Edgar and Ramona for convincing me to do one of these shows yet again. This whole stupid thing is making me irrational.
I glare at her. “Whatever, let’s go. Another contestant should arrive soon and you are not allowed to see each other yet.”
I tighten my grip on her suitcases and drag them along with me to the car park outside the small airport. At the bright blue jeep, I have claimed as my own for the next four weeks, I put her luggage into the back seat. Not waiting for her to catch up, I already get into the driver’s seat and start the car and the much-needed air-conditioning. The car has already cooled down significantly when she finally slides into the passenger seat.
We drive in silence for a while. Which may or may not be due to the music blasting through the speakers. Louder than I would normally listen to in the car but from previous shows and even pick-up duties today I have ascertained that the contestants are 99 percent less likely to try to talk to me.
“So, you’re … Grayson Blackwell, right?” Of course, she is the one percent. Her voice barely raises above the music but I can hear her loud and clear. Something about her voice demands you to listen to it. I turn down the music a smidge.
“I interviewed you three times and last saw you two weeks ago when you shamelessly tried to back out of the show and you still don’t know my fucking name?”
I know her type. I have done two of these shows already and there’s always the same characters. She’s an ice princess. The one who is cunning, selfish in regards to herself and will dismiss anything not concerning her. The kind of woman who doesn’t care about other people. The kind of woman who knows what she wants and will not settle for anything less. The kind of woman to admire but also to take pity in. I usually just despise them.
My eyes avert from the road and I notice her eyes widening before her face relaxes into a bored look. This one is more familiar to me.
“I’m bad with faces. Don’t take it personally.”
I blast the music again, even louder this time and she turns away from me. Finally. Every now and then I catch her eyes practically glowing, her smile widening as she looks out the windows, completely mesmerized as we drive along the coast. Her behaviour is annoyingly confusing. Whenever she notices me looking, her face relaxes back into the bored expression. It doesn’t last long though and her smile always brightens her face again. The ocean seems to bring out a side of her I hadn’t seen before. Despite myself, I can kind of relate to that. And despite my better judgement, the music fades to the background as I adjust it.
“Have you ever been to the Caribbean before?”
She startles at my voice and looks over to me as if checking it was really me speaking and not the radio. Or a ghost.
“No. Never. My sister and I have always talked about coming here. I can’t believe I am here without her.”
Right. The sister. One thing about Dorothy Parker that is unusual and ruining my near perfect assessment of her. In the three interviews I conducted with her, she was the typical ice princess. Distanced but assertive. Highly unapproachable but able to charm herself through any situation. Not unlike women I have come in contact with before on these shows. But when asked about her family, she defrosted. Just slightly. If I had let her, she would have talked more about her sister than herself in the interviews. And I almost did let her.
Shaking my head, I force myself to focus on Dorothy.
“How often have you been to the Caribbean?” She asks when I don’t answer in time.
“This is my third time.”
“So, always for work then? I take it this is not the first dating show you have worked on?” From the corner of my eye, it looks like she cringes slightly at the word ‘dating’.
Even though I must have imagined the discomfort in her voice, I want to cringe along with her. I would love to visit these beautiful islands just for myself. I would still lug around big cameras, tripods, at least a suitcase full of equipment. But it would just be for me. Not for a dating show with shallow people trying to get a foot in the door. The door to fame, money, attention, whatever they hope to get out of this. Love is usually not their objective, even if Ramona and Edgar continue to naively believe in their dating show concept.
“Yes,” I finally answer and hope my tone might finally shut her up.
After a while of – quietly, thank fuck - driving along the coast, we finally reach the little town the crew has been staying in for the last week to prepare. The contestants are all arriving or have already arrived today and will spend their first night separately in the hotel. Tomorrow the show begins and my least favourite four weeks of the year will start.
I still can’t believe I let Ramona and Edgar talk me into doing yet another one of these shows with them.
Suddenly Dorothy pulls down the sun visor to use the build-in mirror. I roll my eyes as she dabs on some skin-coloured cream under her eyes. From the corner of my eye, I see her taking her hair out of the bun, letting the light blonde curls fall around her shoulders and down her back in soft waves.
“What the fuck?!” I hiss at her, finally noticing the change to her hair. I saw her two weeks ago and half of her hair was fading into a deep purple like it had been for all of the interviews. Now, it’s just light blonde. “You signed a contract not to change anything in your appearance without contacting us first.”
Her bright eyes widen yet again, looking almost disappointed in herself. She turns to look at me with an almost scared expression before taking a big breath.
“You’re right. I should have informed you. I completely forgot,” her voice is clear as day, although not sounding insincere. “But I just went back to my natural colour. It doesn’t really matter though, does it?”
Now, my eyes widen in disbelief. “It does matter, though!” I know she might think me unbelievably petty for making a big deal out of this, but we have spent months on this show. Interviewing, planning, signing contracts, making sure everything will go smoothly. All we ask our contestants to do is to stay the same if possible and inform us about any necessary changes. She knew this beforehand and yet did not feel like the rules applied to her as well. I don’t even know why I’m disappointed. This is just what I should expect from someone like her.
Her mouth opens once but she seems to decide against saying anything.
Good choice.
I almost groan in relief when we finally reach the hotel and I steer the car into the underground parking garage. I basically jump out of the jeep before it even comes to complete halt. Grabbing her luggage out of the backseat, I make my way to the elevator without checking if she is following.
I hear her steps echoing in the parking garage as she hurries after me. In the elevator we stand side-by-side, the top of her head in line with my shoulders. The happy elevator music robs me of my last nerve and when I notice her studying me in the mirror, I glare back at her. She doesn’t even flinch but frowns slightly, eyes still locked on mine in the mirror.
She opens her mouth again to say something but the doors finally open and I hurry her along the hotel lobby and into a nearby corridor. I just need her to stop everything. Her steady voice, her staring, her presence. It all makes me feel unstable. I can’t wait to have her out of my sight.
I open the door to the big conference room the hotel has granted us access to and feel intensely relieved when Edgar and Ramona bound over to us. Ramona, with her light-brown skin and dark braids seems yet again to forget the line between professionalism and friendliness as she basically jumps into Dorothy’s arms. Edgar beams at her too, his big round glasses almost slipping from his freckled nose as Ramona’s wild gestures hit him in the face.
I can only blink at them. After all these years of being friends with them, I still don’t understand how anyone can take them seriously. The trio of us being co-producers of these shows should make anyone run for the hills. But somehow it works.
“Dorothy! Good to see you again. You gave us quite the scare when Grayson told us you tried to back out of the show.” Edgar quipped, grinning at her like he was truly happy to see her. Ramona beams too and for a moment I can’t seem to avert my eyes as Dorothy smiles in answer.
“It’s Adara actually, if you don’t mind.” She answers and I lean in closer, thinking to have misheard her. “I go by my middle name, Adara.”
I feel my eye twitch and Edgar throws a panicked glance my way.
“Oh, I guess we can-“” Ramona starts but I interrupt her.
“Are you fucking serious?” I am practically fuming now. I lightly grab her arm, and pull her back into the hallway. Ramona and Edgar follow, closing the door behind them.
Edgar gives me a concerned look. “What’s wrong, Gray?”
“What’s wrong?!” I exclaim. “First she changes her hair without telling us and now she just decides to go by a completely different name? We already prepared scripts and the first episode will literally air in three days. The editors and social media team will have to re-edit everything they prepared beforehand to change her name.”
Ramona and Edgar both train their gaze on the woman in question, noticing her light blonde waves down to her waist, not a hint of purple in sight. Her face is beet-red, eyes wider than I have ever seen. She looks almost … apologetic. My blood boils. She must have realized this would throw everyone off. She couldn’t be that daft. But no, of course she didn’t realize she would be a fucking inconvenience to everyone but herself.
“The hair is unexpected, but it’s fine. It’s not like she suddenly went from blonde to black.” Ramona says calmly, giving the her an encouraging smile. I take a deep breath through my nose. “The name change, I admit might be an inconvenience. But she will be here for four weeks, Grayson. She deserves to be called by her preferred name.”
I glare at Ramona and she rolls her eyes at me. I lost this round and we all know it.
Edgar nods along with her and even pats “Adara” on the shoulder. “We’ll work it out Doro- uh, shit, I mean Adara. You can go back inside. Someone will check your luggage, take your phone and lead you to your room for the night. There is an info pamphlet for you to study there. We ask you not to come out of your room for the remainder of the day. Tomorrow morning, we will collect you from your room at 10.”
Ramona and Edgar pat me on the back when we are left alone in the hallway, treating me like a baby needing to be calmed down. I hate that it might be true. And that it actually helps a bit.
I am already counting down the days to when all of this is over. This will definitely be my last show.

Chapter Text

ELODIE
A knock on the door makes my stomach flutter with nerves. It’s time. Having spent the last 16 hours or so in this hotel room, I am almost looking forward to what’s coming now. Almost.
Dottie made sure to show me pictures of the most important people. Unfortunately, she didn’t have high resolution pictures but rather grainy enlarged screenshots of Instagram icons. Still, it helped a lot. Although, yesterday, when Grayson picked me up, I wouldn’t have even needed the picture. Just my sister’s constant complains about his asshole-attitude would have given it away. I almost cried when I had to hand over my phone yesterday. I fully expected to be able to call Dottie, tell her all about my not-so-happy encounter with Grayson The Asshole – even if I don’t ever swear aloud - and my fear that his assessing eyes will figure out this sham quicklier than I thought.
“Good morning, Adara.” Edgar stands in the hallway when I open my door, big glasses and an even bigger smile on his face. “I have come to free you of your cell.”
I laugh. What a beautiful cell it was though. Especially the big bath tub in the bathroom. I am happy to notice his use of my middle name. Dorothy and Elodie Parker don’t have a lot in common. Mainly, their looks and their middle names. Mom and Dad had decided on the name Adara long before she was even pregnant. Adara was the name of my dad’s late sister, who died as a teenager, and he had always wanted to honour her. When Dottie and I turned out to be twins, Dad couldn’t decide on who would get the name and promptly gave it to both of us as middle names. I have always loved the connection to my late aunt. Dottie has too, although never as openly. However, whenever someone commented on the weirdness of two sisters having the same name, she did threaten to beat them up.
“Good morning, Edgar.”
“Do you mind if I come in for second?”
Confused, I make room, going past my little carry-on and towards the middle of the room. They kept my big suitcase yesterday to sort through the clothes I brought. Thankfully, I was prepared for that and had packed all my essentials in the carry-on. Sometimes it does help to read the whole contract.
Edgar follows me into the room timidly. His gaze is sombre and my stomach sinks. Panic starts to set in when I realize this could be the end of our little charade. Did they already figure it out? Did they already call the police for identity fraud? I need to talk to Dot-
“Listen, I wanted to apologize for Grayson’s behaviour yesterday. He likes to have order and dislikes when something unplanned happens. He’s overworked and tired and I know that is no excuse for his bad behaviour towards you, but I thought you should now. It was highly unprofessional of him to gripe at you that way,” Edgar says, his hands gesturing wildly and my eyes go wide at the direction of this conversation. “But you probably won’t have to deal with him a lot anymore. He will film you and the rest of the group and maybe conduct some interviews here and there but apart from that he usually distances himself entirely from the contestants. He’ll blend right into the background, don’t worry.”
Oh. Oh. I almost sigh in relief. As much as I hate being here in Dottie’s stead, I would hate prison time much more and again I can’t believe I suggested this whole sham. Why Elodie, why? Do I really love my twin this much?
“You don’t have to apologize,” I smile at Edgar and plop down on my neatly made bed, messing up a whole twenty minutes of work from this morning. “I messed up and I’m really sorry about creating more work for your crew. I should have thought about that. And you are not responsible for Grayson. You don’t have to apologize for him.” I am almost angry Edgar came to apologize, knowing full well, that Grayson The Asshole most likely hasn’t spared another thought for me when I needed an hour-long soak in the tub to calm down.
My mind wanders to the man in question, even though I have told it no ten times already. His imposing size, the dark brown hair in stark contrast to his icy blue eyes. Mesmerizing. Beautiful. Completely unattainable.
Yesterday, just for a second, I hoped he was a contestant and that I would be able to … yeah, Elodie. To do what? Flirt with him? Unlikely. My fourteen-year-old cousin is better at flirting than me. My track record of men in my life is a testament to my lack of skill to keep or honestly even meet a guy. Even if he was a contestant, it wouldn’t matter to me. It would matter even less to him. It wouldn’t matter to anyone on this planet.
“You’re right, but also not. We are co-producers and the three of us all take responsibility for what happens at the workplace. So, I’m still sorry. I shouldn’t have asked him to pick up contestants. He normally doesn’t make a good first impression.”
“You don’t say” I deadpan but feel bad immediately. I don’t make a good first impression either. When I was younger, I struggled with social paralysis a lot. It’s gotten better, especially since teaching Kindergarten but meeting people my own age is still hard sometimes.
Edgar smiles at me. “He is nicer, once you get to know him. Anyway, are you about ready to go?”

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Sitting in another jeep (this time a red one), I stare out the window and still marvel at the beautiful scenery. I love being here as much as I hate it.
Tracy, a production assistant with bright orange hair and body covered in tattoos is tasked with driving me to the villa. Fortunately, she seems quite nice. In the last 30 minutes She has explained some more details about the crew to me. Apart from the three co-producers (Edgar, Ramona and The Asshole), there are two production assistants, a bunch of camera operators under the jurisdiction of Grayson, a film runner, a production designer and two social media managers I will probably get to see around. There are more people involved with tasks like editing and sound that I will most likely not meet as they work away from the villa. At the villa most of the crew will live and sleep in an auxiliary building while not working. Some will be in the villa with us to be available to us for problems. Or to capture all the drama, I thought to myself when Tracy mentioned this fact.
“Ah, there it is,” Tracy proclaims and my head snaps forward, away from the beach sprawling out on my right. We are approaching a big iron-wrought fence, a gate opening as we get closer. Tracy slows down a bit as she focuses on carefully driving the car up a small hill on a brick road, passing what I believe is the auxiliary building sitting among a tropical array of trees and bushes. Atop the hill, a beautiful three-story Mediterranean-style villa sits. Massive arched windows line the villa everywhere. It’s even better than I imagined, and my Pinterest board has been full of island homes ever since I foolishly offered to switch with Dottie.
Exiting the car, Tracy leads me inside the villa through a side entrance. We find Ramona and Edgar sitting at a big wooden table, engrossed in the laptop in front of them.
“Knock, knock” Tracy makes me jump as she loudly knocks on the already open door. “I’ve got Adara here for you guys.”
Ramona startles too, but grins at us soon after. She rushes over, thanks Tracey and leads me to an adjacent room, which appears to be a dressing room. The relatively small room is packed with clothing racks. Ramona smiles at me brightly and pulls a clothing rack into the middle of the room. It takes me a second to recognize some of my dresses on the hangers.
“We had a look at your wardrobe and selected some more formal dress options for today.” Ramona says brightly, before frowning slightly. “I have to say, your wardrobe was rather unexpected. I expected less sundresses, flowers and pastels from you. Don’t take me wrong” She adds, when my smile drops. “The dresses are lovely. Just not the norm in the shows we have produced.”
My gaze wanders over the dresses on other clothing racks and I see where she is coming from. The other women had beautiful dresses from what I could see, but mine were much tamer in comparison. We both thought my dresses would be fine. She tried to give me some of her dresses, much more similar to the ones hanging in this room, but I declined. I want to be at least a bit comfortable in this sham and it’s not like I brought a floor-length gown. But apparently, my wardrobe actually does give ‘kindergarten teacher’ and not ‘hot, sexy single’. Who would have thought?
“Oh, well,” I force a laugh. “I thought they fit the theme better.”
“Nevertheless, I am sure you will look absolutely stunning in them. Choose whichever one you like from the selection. You have,” she glances at her smartwatch “seventeen minutes until the next person arrives. So, make sure you finish here in about fifteen minutes. After, I’ll lead you to Grayson before you can get introduced to the group. We are doing private interviews before and after meeting the group today.”
Interviews. Great. Talking to people is bad enough. Talking to Grayson The Asshole while imagining loads of people hearing me come up with answers that don’t scream I’ve never had a relationship might be the actual worst.
Okay, Elodie. You knew this was coming. You’ve got this.

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Grayson’s icy gaze swings to mine as I step into the room. I start walking towards him when I notice my surroundings. The room is not a normal interview room – boring and clean and boring-, but a small, beautiful library. Three of the walls, including the doorway I just came through are lined with wooden bookshelves. The door blends in almost perfectly. The last wall is made up of three tall bay windows, all thrown open to let in the breeze from the sea.
I am mesmerized by the sight before me. Without realizing, I have stepped up to the windows, my knees hitting the fitted bench in front of it. Beyond the windows, the endless turquoise sea stretches out. The bright sun reflects off the water’s surface, in millions of tiny shimmers. The ocean is so close, I can hear the waves crashing against the coast producing the perfect lullaby. The world has never been this beautiful to me.
From the corner of my eye, I notice something inching closer to me. A grin still wide on my face, I turn to look at Grayson now standing at the side of the window. His camera is set up on a tripod, a red blinking light appearing every few seconds.
My grin fades. “Are you filming already? You should have said something.”
“I doubted you would hear me in your silly dream-like state. You act like you’ve never seen the ocean before,” Grayson grumbles, his eyes on his camera.
“I haven’t,” I say quietly and Grayson’s eyes snap to mine. “Well, except for during the car rides here. But I’ve never actually been to the ocean.”
His arctic stare seems to melt a bit, before turning glacial again.
“Let’s start the interview. You wasted enough time already.” He places the tripod in front of the bay window, the camera facing the ocean view. “Take a seat on the bench, Adara.”
I glare at him and his provocative tone but follow his orders. He sinks down in a chair himself, fixing the camera angle for a few moments.
I smooth down my hair, feeling the back of my head where I clipped some of it up. Grayson clears his throat and I focus back on him. He waves a script in his hands once, signalling the start of the interview.
“Please state your name, age and where you’re from.” His voice takes on a neutral tone, one I assume he has used for the other interviews. I didn’t think he could sound so civil. He said please.
“I’m Dorothy Adara Parker, but I just go by Adara.” Grayson rolls his eyes and I glare at him before remembering I’m being filmed. “I am 26 years old and from Michigan.”
“What motivated you to join this dating show?”
“Oh, uh.” My brain feels like quick-sand. What would Dottie say? “I enjoy dating and meeting new people. I hoped this would give me an opportunity to meet people from different parts of the country. And maybe find true love.” My voice went up at the end, ending my answer in a question. That is probably the lamest answer I could have given and most of it was a lie. Grayson looks as unimpressed as he should be.
“How long have you been single?”
I debate answering truthfully for myself this time. Dottie and I agreed that it might be easier to try to answer as honestly as possible to avoid getting caught in a web of lies. But ‘always’ seems like an actual lie for someone joining a dating show. I try to remember Dottie’s last relationship. Well, the one before Gary anyway but I can’t think straight.
“Oh, uh. It’s been to long. I’ll just say that.” I force a laugh to sound …charming? Behind the camera, Grayson rolls his eyes again. He is being insufferable and I am making a complete idiot out of myself.
“How would you describe your ideal partner, look-wise?”
Apparently, Dottie’s ideal partner wears glasses, turtle-necks and looks like a very hot Disney character. When I met him about a week ago, I was immediately reminded of Milo Thatch from Atlantis. He was Dottie’s and I’s first crush, despite being fictional. Gary’s personality outshines his looks even more. When I saw them interact for the first time, I understood Dottie’s desperation even better. He makes a softer side of her appear. One I’m usually the only one privy to.
“Uh, I haven’t really thought about it before. I don’t think I have a type.” I haven’t even dated enough to even qualify for having a type. “Character is more important to me, I guess.”
“So, you’re saying it doesn’t matter what someone looks like?” Grayson snorts unamused. “You should have signed up for a blind dating show, then. Would have saved me a lot of trouble.” He grumbles the last part and I feel my blood boiling at this rude, insufferable man.
“What the hell is your problem?” I stand up instinctively. “I already said I’m sorry for not telling you about the hair. And if you need to hear it that desperately, I am also sorry about the name change!”
Grayson stands up too, taking a step towards me. His size is suddenly so much more intimidating as he towers over me. “My problem is people like you!”
“What do you mean, people like me? What am I?” My nostrils flare as I stare up at him. I can’t believe I’m getting worked up by him. I teach kindergarten, for heaven’s sake. I’m used to dealing with insufferable people. Just smaller ones. Less muscular ones. Ones that give me a hug after their little tantrums.
“People like you, who think they can just waltz in here, not follow the rules and feel superior to everyone around them. From the moment I met you, I knew you were as superficial, attention-seeking and self-absorbed as most people on these kinds of shows.” His eyes are blazing with hatred. My body freezes at the hostile look towards me. Even though I know he is also partly talking about Dottie, since he just met me yesterday, I can’t suppress the hurt I feel at his words. And the anger. Still, my mind snags on his words. ‘On these kinds of shows’. He is a co-producer, for heaven’s sake. Why does he work on dating shows when he apparently can’t stand the people in it? His opinion seems to be steeped in prejudice. Dottie is certainly not one of those things, even if she does seem fierce and self-confident. These are good traits. And yes, she also has a resting bitch-face. That doesn’t mean she is one, though.
“You don’t know anything about me.” Or about Dottie. My voice sounds clear even as I feel my nose stinging, tears threatening to show in my eyes.
“If you say so.” He exhales through his nose noisily, before turning back around to his camera. “We are done here. Edgar will take care of you now.”

My knees shake slightly as Edgar leads me through the villa. My eyes wander through my surroundings without really taking it in. I’ll have enough time to marvel at the beautiful interior of this place, so I focus on not tripping while wearing high heels. Luckily, Edgar had not been waiting for me when I walked into the adjoining office, next to the library. I nearly hadn’t noticed the second hidden door in the library and Grayson had to stalk over there to open the door for me. He did this without looking at me once. I had to take a lot of very deep breaths to calm down and not take the next taxi back to the airport.
When Edgar stops at the door to the terrace, a massive pool gleaming ahead in the sunlight, I take the time to smooth down my sage green slip dress. I chose one of the most formal dresses I packed. Which weren’t many, to be honest. The others will have to get used to seeing me in floral sundresses or overalls with stitched on flowers for the remainder of the show.
“Okay, Adara. It’s time for you to meet the group. You’re number seven of twelve.” Edgar beams at me and points to the far side of the pool. “Behind the pool are steps leading down to the rest of the terrace. Down there is a sitting area where all the contestants are meeting for the first time. There are several cameras filming you on the way there, so make sure not to look directly into them. Off you go, then. And good luck.”
I smile at him tightly, feeling like I will cry of nerves if I open my mouth now. The distance to the stairs is reached quicker than I expect and I manage to avoid looking at the camera. On the stairs I accidentally stare right at the second camera and mumble a quick apology to the man behind the camera, eternally grateful Grayson is still doing the interviews and not here to observe my awkwardness. I focus so hard on not falling down the stairs in my heels, that I only look up again when I reach the bottom. The area I have reached is circled in palm trees and bushes, secluding it from any eyes from the pool area above or the beach far below. There is a big sectional couch along with several chairs and smaller benches. My attention immediately flies to the six people already dispersed around the sitting area and I feel my heartbeat quicken.
No going back now.
I feel the cameras filming me more than I actually see them. I have never felt so unguarded in my life. I finally reach the group and before I can say anything, a man with fair and smooth skin jumps up to meet me. His almond-shaped dark eyes draw me in immediately. He runs a hand through his short and straight black hair, before reaching me and drawing me into a hug.
“Hi, I’m Johan Kwon. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.” I smile at him; glad I don’t have to introduce myself awkwardly now. “I’m Dorothy Adara Parker. But please call me Adara.”
The other contestants stand up to greet me as well and I try my best to remember their names. Years of kindergarten teaching will hopefully pay off.
I finally sit down on the large sectional. On my right sits Ariella, a beautiful woman with ebony skin, big dark eyes and full lips. On my left is Will, his muscular tanned chest on display through his white shirt and his stone-coloured chinos matching his eyes.
Looking as if he has never been nervous a day in his life, Harlan slouches in his chair. His sleeveless t-shirt shows his big tanned arms, covered in an array of tattoos I can’t make out from my spot on the sectional. His black wavy hair looks so effortlessly perfect, I make a mental note to ask him about his hair-care routine. Sitting in the chair next to him, looking like his polar opposite in attitude is Madison. Her olive angular face with upturned green eyes is accentuated by the heavy makeup she wears. Her straight dark blonde hair reaches to her chest. She is stunning, but the first thing I notice about her is her stiff posture. When she catches me looking at her, I give her a tentative smile, hoping to convey that she is not alone in her anxiousness. To my surprise, she sneers at me. My eyes widen and I look away from her, embarrassed and confused. Is this a movie? Did I just get sneered at by the schools’s Queen Bee?
Xavier catches my eye and smirks at me, his gaze wandering to my chest. I hate that I blush, not knowing whether to be disgusted or flattered. He leans back in his seat, crossing one of his tanned, athletic legs over the other. His brown hair matches his closely trimmed beard and his eyes change from dark brown to amber whenever the sun catches his face.
Over the next hour, we sit, drink and talk while the rest of the contestants come to join us. Luckily, there are so many people here, I don’t actually have to say a lot. The conversations are pleasant but superficial. Although I suspect this will change over time. We are stuck together for four weeks after all. I suppose we will also have to get used to the cameras being stuck in our faces all day.
Ramona comes down after a while, inviting us to eat lunch in the villa. Having had breakfast at seven in the morning in my hotel room, I am starving and more than happy to make my way back up to the villa. The dining area is taken up by one huge table in its centre, with the living and kitchen area on either side, separated by big, glass sliding doors. The view of the terrace and the ocean beyond is beautiful. The girl next to me, Samar if I remember correctly, comments on this as well as she plucks a handful of grapes from the platter in front of her. Samar has long curly black hair and medium brown skin. Her brown eyes sparkle as she smiles at me and I feel comfortable around her immediately.
At the table, I can observe everyone getting more relaxed. Even though it is still hard to ignore the cameras, the conversations are getting more personal. Sion, a broad-shouldered dark-skinned man with cropped curly black hair, has just finished telling us a funny anecdote of his first interview for the show. The last three members who joined the group are Sasha, Cameron and Amanda. Sasha sits right next to me and I can’t help being jealous of her short brown hair. I don’t think I could ever pull off a pixie cut. She has fair, almost porcelain-like skin and her dark blue eyes dart around the room as she laughs heartily. Cameron has long and curly hair, currently pulled up into a messy bun atop his head. His hazel eyes sparkle and his deep olive skin looks particularly good in the dark blue tunic he wears. Since he joined the group, I have yet to catch his smile slipping. His good mood is highly contagious and I find myself listening to his words a lot, answering his smiles with ones of my own easily.
Amanda sits right across from me and her ginger hair looks even lighter as the sun shines a halo around it. Her fair skin is unblemished. Under her makeup I think I can detect hints of freckles. Maybe even more freckles than I have on my nose and cheeks. Her light blue eyes wander around the room of people, as if already making up her mind on who to like and not to like. She suddenly sits up straighter, her gaze trained in my direction but not on me. I turn around in my seat to see Grayson joining us with his camera and a headset on his head. Without a word to us, he walks past the table to the other side of the room, setting up his camera in a corner.
I try to avoid looking in his direction and focus on the conversations at the table. Not seeing him outside made me momentarily forget what had happened yet again. Now, perfectly in sight, if I tilt my head to the right just slightly, my anger resurfaces quickly. I grab another sandwich from the table and stuff my mouth, before remembering that the cameras are not for decoration.
Cameron joins into my conversation with Sasha and Samar and makes all of us laugh out loud. Unwillingly, my eyes wander to Grayson. Surprised, I notice his camera is already trained on me. I feel my heartbeat quicken as I take in his hunched over form to look into said camera. His muscles flex as he adjusts something and my heart flutters hard in my chest. Pained, I realize that in this room full of very attractive and charming men, he is still the most mesmerizing.
And the most infuriating, I tell myself.
Grayson’s eyes flick up to mine, the icy blue color transfixing me. He doesn’t look away either and I wonder if he finds me as insufferable as I do him. Probably. He told me as much, when he accused me, or rather Dottie, of being self-centred and superficial. Does he imagine pushing me off a bridge? Filming me in unflattering poses until I snap? He has the upper hand here as head of photography. If I keep butting heads with him, I might find myself as the laughing stock of the country when I come back home in a month. But even as his hard eyes bore into mine, I somehow don’t think he would use his position to get back at me.
His gaze turns away suddenly and I force myself not to feel disappointed. He fully caught me in his eyes, like a mouse being offered cheese. I don’t think I could have looked away if the house had started to burn. I notice Ramona suddenly next to him, both talking in low voices. I blink, focusing back on the people at the table. These people are supposed to be my focus, not Grayson. I clap my hands over my heated cheeks, trying to hide my stupidity.

After lunch, Ramona tells us to lounge and get to know each other better. In the same order as our entrances, Grayson will conduct the after interviews. This time the interviews will be held at the terrace with the sitting area where we all met. Edgar will get all of us separately when it’s time.
For some reason, the men and the women separate into two different groups. While I leave with the other women to lounge at the pool, the men throw themselves onto the big living room couch.
Ariella, who was the first contestant to be introduced is already being led away by Edgar.
As soon as we settle down at the pool, the girls start commenting on the men. A camera man gets closer to us, another man with a hanging microphone on his trail. This conversation is definitely not private. I have a sinking feeling that anything we say outside of our rooms might somehow be documented and later broadcast.
Amanda doesn’t seem to mind the camera and happily talks on about her top three of the six men. The other girls nod and laugh along with her and I try my best to seem interested as well. It occurs to me that I hadn’t really thought about me dating on this show. Obviously, I know this is a dating show. But I think I might have been so absorbed with filling in for Dottie and the fact that it is televised, that I didn’t realize I would still be the one going on actual dates.
I check all of the boxes of being bad at dating: shy, awkward, inexperienced. I have sent my sister to go on dates for me because I was too scared. I hoped in pretending to be Dottie, I would magically be her and manage to do all this. Somehow, I neglected the fact that I was still Elodie. I am the one stuck in this situation, not Dottie.
My smile falls slightly as I think about actually dating men, plural. Will they realize how inexperienced I am? Is that a dealbreaker for men?
Do I actually care about all of this? I ask myself in horror.
But what if this my chance at finding true love? Another, smaller voice in my head whispers. Yeah, right.
I really admire the other girls. Most of them have already discovered who they would like to get to know better, who they think they would and wouldn’t vibe with just off of experiences with men they have dated before and assume to be similar. I feel like I’m the only one getting thrown into the deep end.
Before I know it, it’s my turn to do the interview. Edgar kindly lends me his arm as we navigate down the steps. I still can’t get used to walking in high heels. I really hope they don’t expect me to wear them every day.
Grayson sits on a bench, his camera propped up in front of him again. Edgar joins him and gestures for me to sit on the sectional. I smooth down my dress before sitting down, careful not to touch the small microphone lodged into a crack in the sectional.
Grayson doesn’t even look at me, before starting the camera and reading off his script again.
“What was your first impression of the other contestants?” His voice is monotone again. I suppose it’s better than having him yell at me or worse, offending me.
“The first meeting was really pleasant. I think the other contestants are all very nice.” I force Madison’s sneer out of my mind. The people pleaser in me is already having a crisis, but I push her down. Dottie wouldn’t care if someone disliked her upon meeting her. She would even think it’s amusing.
“Were there any unexpected connections or chemistry with someone?” Grayson asks, gaze focused on his camera. Edgar smiles at me though, and my lips rise in response.
“Not yet. I think it’s still too early for me to feel a connection. But I think there is definitely potential.” Definitely. Maybe. Probably not.
“Did anyone stand out to you?”
My mind – the ducking traitor - immediately goes to me being completely transfixed by Grayson during lunch and I blush hard. Grayson’s gaze snaps up to mine for the first time since starting the interview. Does he know where my mind just went? I panic and try to cover it up. “Yes, uh, Cameron really stood out to me, I guess.”
He averts his eyes, again and stares down at his camera. I wait for the next question and Edgar jumps in quickly when Grayson doesn’t continue.
“What do you like about him, Adara?” He eyes Grayson with a weird look on his face.
“Cameron is really-“, Something occurs to me. “Wait, do we get to see these interviews? While we’re here?”
Grayson seems to shake out of his reverie and back to his scowling self. “Yes, Adara. Each Wednesday and each Sunday when the episodes go life on TV you can watch it in the living room together. Didn’t you read the pamphlet?” I hear his annoyed undertone and force myself not to roll my eyes.
Edgar catches on quickly and smiles at me empathetically. “I understand it might be awkward to just serve your feelings on a silver platter for potential partners to see, but you will see that they all do this. You won’t be the only one being vulnerable. So, we ask you to be honest.”
I guess he is right. Although, I can never be completely honest on this show. Not with me essentially stealing my sister’s identity.
I smile back at Edgar. “I really like Cameron’s ability to lighten up a room with his contagious smile. From what I have seen, he is a very positive person, which I really appreciate. It makes feeling comfortable much easier. And I really like his hair.” I laugh at the last part and Edgar joins in.
Grayson’s jaw clenches once, before raising the script in his hand again.
“After meeting everyone, do you think you could fall in love with anyone here?”
“I don’t know. I … I have never been in love. So, I don’t really know how that feels.” Grayson and Edgar both look at me, slight surprise in their eyes. “But I think now is as good as time as any. In paradise anything might be possible.” Grayson’s eyes bore into mine again and I force myself to avert my eyes before I get lost in them again. I can’t keep doing this.

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After the interviews we are finally allowed to go find our assigned rooms for the next four weeks. As they got a lot of footage today, there will be no further filming today. Ramona said that the editors need time to edit as the first episode will air in two days already.
Like children, we all swarm up the huge winding twin stairs on either side of the entrance way we haven’t gotten to opportunity to come through yet. Ramona told us that the women’s quarters are in the left wing, while the men’s rooms are in the right wing of the second level. The third level, we were reminded again, is off limits, as part of the crew stays there.
Samar and I find our names taped onto the same door at the end of the long hallway of the left wing and smile at each other. Heading inside, we are met with a narrow hallway with the beds being on either side of the hallway and the bathroom acting as a divider between the “bedrooms”. In terms of having to share a bedroom, which I knew would happen, this situation is definitely the best that could have happened. We both still have enough privacy to not be looked at while sleeping even though we still share a bathroom. Looking at both sides, I find my purple suitcases on the right side of the room. From the many shelves, I suspect that this might have been a massive walk-in-closet once upon a time. Happily, I realize the sliding door has been kept in, enabling even more privacy. I look out of the windows, slightly disappointed when I realize I don’t have a direct view of the sea from the room. My side of the room at least still has a side-way view of the ocean. Samar, having another part of the house on her other side, only has windows on one wall, facing the south.
I notice that one of my windows leads to fire escape stairs, fitting the rest of the villa with its cream stone, and I wonder if I can climb on there to get a better view of the ocean. Not now, though.
Sighing, I fling myself onto my king size bed. I still can’t believe what my sister got me into.