For three, I had a well-documented weakness for men who were even the tiniest bit kind to me, and Dylan had gone so, so far out of his way to make sure I was okay.
And for four, it wasn’t like there was anyone else around for me to imprint on. My only two options were Dylan and Murray, and grumpy men with authority-figure vibes were the polar opposite of my type.
So, yes. It made sense that I was attracted to him.
But there was no point wanting what I couldn’t have. Only pain lay down that road.
The best course of action, I decided, was to treat this like a job. To do exactly what Murray had told me, and keep our conversations focused entirely on Dylan and his relationships and what was happening at the Villa. To take the things I was feeling entirely off the table, and to keep the spotlight purely on how Dylan was feeling: specifically, how he was feeling about all these incredible, intimidating women who weren’t me.
But Dylan didn’t make it easy.
He came to our next friend spot right after a group date, dressed in activewear, his hair damp. ‘So it was an obstacle course, right?’ he said. ‘The kind of thing you’d see in an immunity challenge onDesert Island Castaway. Ropes, ramps, nets, the works. Mud everywhere. I meaneverywhere.Do I still have any on me?’
I shook my head. My brain was short-circuiting at the sight of him in a workout singlet.
‘I promise I showered before I came here,’ he said. ‘This is clean, I swear. But there was so much mud, Cece. You don’t even know.’
‘I believe you,’ I said hoarsely, trying not to picture him in the shower, rivulets of water streaming down his chest while he ran his hands through his hair.
He studied me for a moment. ‘Okay, so let me tell you the story of what happened,’ he said, and launched into a saga about how there was no way you could tell whether or not someone would be a good romantic partner by how fast they could army-crawl under a net, and how he’d fully intended to pick the best team player, or someone who’d helped someone else, or someone who’d tried the hardest to win the extra bonus time, but then Parisa had won by so far, he felt like it would be cruel not to pick her.
I realised by the second sentence that he’d misread my ‘he’s so hot my brain won’t function’ awkwardness as ‘oh God, there are cameras here’ awkwardness, and was monologuing until I could pull myself together.
That just made it even harder.
I dug my fingernails into my palm. Don’t want what you can’t have.
‘Are you looking forward to your one-on-one time with Parisa?’ I asked. ‘I know you like her a lot.’
‘I do,’ he said. ‘She’s a fascinating woman. Did I tell you that as well as having a PhD, she’s got two kids?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘How do you feel about that? About potentially being a stepdad?’
‘I’m not going to lie, it’d be an adjustment, but I’d take it on for the right person, gladly,’ he replied. ‘I like kids. I want to be a parent. There’s no reason that all those kids need to be biologically mine.’
He glanced over at me. ‘How about you? Do you want kids?’
I nodded. ‘I could go either way on having biological kids. But I really want to adopt. At least two. Maybe three. Maybe more, if I’m in a stable enough position to be able to support them. I just…’
‘… Want to give some kids what you didn’t have?’
His eyes were kind. He was smiling at me ever-so-slightly, and the light filtering in from the kitchen was catching in the beads of water in his damp hair, turning them into little diamonds, and—no, no, no, Cece, don’t want what you can’t have, don’t want what you can’t have.
‘Do you mind if we don’t talk about this?’ I said desperately. ‘Nothing brings the mood down like talking about my horrible childhood.’
‘Of course,’ he said.
‘Let’s talk more about your one-on-one time with Parisa,’ I said, and forged ahead, trying to pretend that him effortlessly respecting my boundaries didn’t ratchet his attractiveness level up even higher.
The next day, I took myself for a walk. I couldn’t go far – ‘We’re too close to the lake for you to go wandering,’ Murray had told us, ‘if any of you fall in and drown, it’ll really fuck up our insurance premiums’ – but somewhere was betterthan nowhere. Things were frosty and claustrophobic in the Convent, and I needed some space and time to think.
I kicked at a rock. It skittered about five metres in front of me, coming to rest in a tangle of bushes. The gardens down here had clearly been looked after, but not for a while. Things were starting to run wild, growing in directions they probably shouldn’t.
God, I wished I could talk to Flick and Ayo.
Ayo especially. She understood better than anyone the kinds of things my baggage made me susceptible to.Yes, he’s very hot, and he’s nice, and he clearly understands consent, so he’s probably extremely good in bed, she’d say.But he’s a fantasy, babe. Don’t waste your time and your energy pining after something you’ll never be able to have. You’ll only make yourself miserable.
Exactly, Flick would agree.Plus, you’ve only known him, what, a week? Ish? He really is a fantasy. You don’t know him at all.
