“Not many I dated before Alan,” she agrees. “And then he went and knocked me up, so that’s kind of rude.”
I give her a half smile. “I’ve felt directionless, and I saw Marcus and thought, ‘Why not?’ When I’ve talked to him, it hasn’t felt like work. I’m ready for something in my life to be easy. I think I’m, like, on this journey for some kind of stability in my life, and that’s how being with him so far has made me feel? That’s even what I felt watching him last season. He’s like a rock-solid foundation to stand on. That sounds insane, doesn’t it?”
“Not at all,” Charlotte says to me encouragingly. I feel myself getting sucked in, forgetting the camera is there, forgetting I’m talking to a producer and not my friend over a glass of wine. It’s fucked how fast that can happen, how fast you can suddenly think, Shit, I really want this person to like me.
I really want Charlotte to like me.
“Why do you want stability, do you think?”
I hadn’t, really, because I didn’t know that was what I wanted until I said it. That seems right. “Because you can’t move forward until there’s solid ground beneath your feet.”
“You know,” Charlotte says, sitting back, looking satisfied. “I don’t think any of the other contestants have the depth you do. No, listen,” she says as I roll my eyes, “I’m not trying to speak ill of them but I can’t have these kinds of conversations with them. Like, bless her heart, but have you tried talking to Aliana?”
“Aliana is a sweetheart,” I say. I think it might be a moment to play to the audience, the one who will watch. To try to have a tiny bit of fun. “We all have that one friend like her, right? Kind of dense but in a lovable way.”
“Exactly,” Charlotte affirms. “What do you think about Shae? Marcus is really into her.”
“Nice.” I shrug. “Almost too nice.” Then I find myself growing suspicious. “Why are you asking about all the girls?”
Charlotte laughs. “This isn’t a trap, Jac. I’m just trying to talk to you.”
“I thought we were talking about Marcus?”
“Kendall thinks you’re too old for Marcus,” Charlotte says offhandedly.
“What?” I demand. “Marcus is older than me!” Then I collect myself. “I don’t know why y’all are trying to start something with Kendall and me.”
“Some people like to know what the other girls are saying about them.”
“Well, I don’t,” I say. “Knowing what other people say about me is my worst nightmare.” I stare imploringly at Charlotte. “Is it okay if I go get ready for my date now?”
Charlotte glances down at her phone, and then back up at me, as if debating it. Finally, she says, “I guess,” and I race out of the room as quickly as I can.
AALIYAH, A LOYAL viewer of the 1, speculated to me before the date that we would obviously be doing something involving water based on my date card. Turns out she’s right.
I pull up to a yacht club with Charlotte and Priya.
The club is in Marina del Rey, so close to Venice Beach, I feel it like a brand on my skin. The day is perfect in the way every southern California day insists on being. We walk down a long sidewalk over to where the boats are docked, and in the distance, I see the rest of the production staff standing on a large boat called Seas the Day.
Marcus is there with all the camera crews and lighting guys and Janelle. He’s giving an interview, I can tell, and Charlotte reaches out and grabs my hand as we walk over to him.
“Don’t sabotage yourself, Jac,” she says to me, and squeezes. It feels personal and far too knowing of me when she says it, but I do feel this warm ball of sunshine in my chest at the sight of Marcus in a striped navy shirt and casual, preppy shorts, looking born for this day. I have on a sheer green cover-up, long sleeved and flowy, along with a hat that came in our complementary gift bag when we arrived on set (however, only my bathing suit, a black one-piece with so many cutouts, little is left to the imagination, ever airs on television—and it airs many, many times). Priya and Charlotte peel off away from me so only I will be in the shot as I walk toward him, smiling despite myself. The look Marcus gives me is like he is suddenly warming up from the inside out after a day in the cold, the smile spreading slowly across his face. I can’t help but quicken my pace to reach him faster. He pulls me up into his arms and does a full turn while holding on to me. I’m a healthy five-foot-eight, but he has no problem lifting me, making me feel small enough to be tender with. He sets me down with a kiss on my forehead, our eyes locked on each other’s. Weirdly, in that moment, I think Henry’s not here today, and that makes this easier, somehow. I can always sense him when he’s around.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hello,” he says. “Bonjour. Howzit. Konnichiwa.”
“You trying to get all our greetings in now?” I ask, unable to suppress a smile. (None of this will be shown on television because it makes me look too normal. Can’t have your average viewers relate to such a terrible person, and it won’t be clear they’re terrible if they do anything relatable, or, dare I say it, cute.)
“I learned, like, ten more if you want me to talk dirty to you later today.”
I cackle in delight.
The day is easy and fun. All jumping off boats into Pacific water and kissing and touching. Marcus clearly finds my bathing suit as intoxicating as the cameras do, his hands pressing into my skin where the bathing suit reveals my ribs, his fingers in my wet hair, all of it combining to make my blood boil. The chemistry doesn’t have to be faked.
It’s hard to describe what a thrill it is just being out of the house, where it feels as if nothing and no one exists except the 1. While the 1 might still be here with us out on the water, other things exist here, too. Other people on boats and sun and air that’s not continuously recycled throughout the mansion, and real things happening.
Considering what a short time it’s been, it concerns me how fast I’m feeling completely lost to reality.
After we get back to the yacht club, Marcus and I leave each other to begin preparing for the evening portion of our date. I film for over an hour, telling Charlotte my thoughts and feelings and whatever-the-hell-else about the date, and then she even follows me into the bathroom back at the mansion as I go to get ready for the date. She sits with me as I put my makeup on and eat the salad I secured from the kitchen.
“What do you want to talk about with Marcus tonight?” she asks me.
I don’t look at her as I say, “Sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll.” I blot my lips.
“Don’t tempt me,” Charlotte says, leaning back in the chair she dragged in and closing her eyes, as if she might take a nap.
“I don’t know, Charlotte, what do you think I should talk to him about?”
“It’s a first date, right?” Charlotte asks, meeting my eye in the mirror. “What do you usually talk about on first dates?”
Nothing, I think. I usually try to drink as many martinis as possible.
“My family’s a pretty safe topic.”
“And your career?”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “You know as well as I do. Decidedly less safe.”
