The Mediterranean Village is a chaotic flurry of activity when I head down. The cast and crew have taken over this entire section of the resort. Cameras are set up all around the iconic swimming pool at the center of the village. The pool occupies most of the courtyard with the far end of the courtyard open to the beach.
It’s a clear day with no sign of yesterday’s storm. Parasailers are riding high in the sky beneath rainbow-colored parachutes. There’s a pink and aqua one out there that’s emblazoned with thePlaying with Matcheslogo.
As I walk the perimeter of the pool, I smell suntan oil and hear reggae music pouring from the speakers. Lacey, Ryker, and Darwin are sprawled out on the lounge chairs, lazily sipping fruity cocktails.
I glance around, trying to locate Isla, which shouldn’t be difficult, given the color of her hair and her penchant for bright colors.
“Oh good, you got the clothes,“ Rory pauses as she dashes by, taking in my new Peaches-branded tee and peach print board shorts. Given that the resort’s emblem is the peach emoji, I kind of feel like a giant walking ass. But I’m trying to convince myself that it’s cool, in an ironic way.
“Only you could pull this off,” Rory waves a hand at me.
“It doesn’t make me look like I’m a creeper with a bum fetish?” I ask.
“No, dude, you look awesome. It’s so ‘I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks’ that it’s cool,” Rory insists.
She’s swapped her business suit for some cutoff overalls with a million pockets, all of which seem to be full of random items. “Have you seen the robot yet?”
“Robot?” I ask.
“OMG, just wait,” she looks over my shoulder, smiling and waving flirtatiously at one of the camera men before dashing off. He looks to be around her age. Good. Now that I see her again, I realize she’s definitely not my type and definitely too young for me. Even for a fling.
I feel like I dodged a bullet.
I continue my search for Isla. There are multiple hair and make-up stations set up under two pop-up tents off to one side of the lawn. In one of the tents, having his make-up done and chatting animatedly with Rob, is a shirtless, tanned, oiled, and ridiculously buff-looking man with long, dark hair that can only be Marco. Whatever Rob’s saying to him, it’s making him smile. He’s nodding enthusiastically, and he and Rob share a fist bump and shoot a selfie together. Something tells me Marco’s one true love is definitely here on the island. And it’s himself.
I’ve gotta hand it to Rob. He’s really good at handling the annoying personality types.
Two jacuzzis flank the swim up bar at the oceanfront end of the pool, and I spy a couple more contestants there. Owen the firefighter is in the hot tub with Chloe the blonde nurse, and they seem to be getting along great. Maybe they’re getting along too well?
We haven’t even kicked off the show officially. We have yet to reveal the contestants’ match-mates, and I’m already second guessing our choices. Were we too hasty? I’m tempted to run back to my room to review their compatibility with the partners we picked for them versus this new pairing. Could I have missed the best possible match?
If I can’t get at least one solid match out of this show, I think my app will actually be done.
I just don’t get it. I don’t get why the app is still having issues getting people to use it. We’ve redesigned the user interface several times and even tried to gamify the process. But people are addicted to swiping. It’s a dopamine thing.
The latest iteration of my app gives users the ability to sort their matches by swiping. It’s doing much better than the previous version. Swipers gotta swipe.
Still scanning for Isla, I see a flash of someone’s red hair on the beach-facing side of the swim-up bar. It’s just the top of her head, but I’d know that shade of red anywhere. I skip down the three steps headed towards the path to the beach and circle around behind her. Isla’s chatting with a bartender whose back is to us both, making drinks.
I pause, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. I’m still considering whether placing my hands over Isla’s eyes would seem spontaneous and fun or childish and weird when she greets me without even turning around. I can hear the smile in her voice. She sounds smug. Like she caught me.
“Hi, Jackson.”
How the hell did she see me?
“Good morning, Isla!” I say, rounding the corner of the bar and into her line of sight. She’s perched on a stool, sipping some kind of yellow fruit smoothie.
“It’s nearly noon.” She laughs, checking me out. “Your lip looks better.”
I run a hand over the bite. It still feels itchy and in need of her attentions. I close my eyes. It’s probably not a great idea to think about her rubbing my lip with an ice cube right now.
Isla is wearing another short, colorful frock today. It’s a loose vintage-style dress with an oversized tropical leaf pattern that’s just short enough not to be frumpy. And she has no reason to hide those legs. A patterned purple scarf is twisted into a headband to hold back her hair, and gold and enamel tropical leaf earrings dangle from her earlobes.
I have to give her credit for going the extra mile and matching. There’s something so fun and playful about her wardrobe choices. It makes me wonder what she’ll wear next.
“Nice tee,” Isla stifles a smile as she sips her drink and gestures to the giant peach emoji on my chest.
“Suns out, buns out,” I read the legend. “It’s a Peaches Resort exclusive.”
