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The first day. He's lined up with all the guys. He takes a deep breath in, hoping for the best. The Majorcan sun envelops his body as he shifts uncomfortably, Glaswegian skin searing in the heat. He thinks there isn’t much going for him, except, maybe, his humor. Jonno thinks he’s hilarious. Does that even count? Either way, compared to these other guys, that’s practically nothing. He's not buff or even very tall. Why did they let my dumbass on the show anyway?
His palms are slick with sweat. He hears a door open and heels click against the wooden platform. Here we go. He gets a little jittery, shifting his weight between his legs. He's sure the girls will be fit, but, hell, he was not prepared when he saw just how stunning you were. The sun hit you in just the right places, tan skin glowing in the burning light, shiny hair rivaling the sun’s rays, but they were nothing compared to the light of your smile when you laughed at his stupid beefcake joke. He hopes you pick him, but he has a feeling you won’t. He chews on the inside of his cheek. There’s no way.
And he was right. you don’t pick him. He knew you wouldn’t. Guys like him don’t end up with girls like you anyway.
Recoupling. Every damn recoupling after that, you’d pick someone else. As luck would have it, someone else scooped you right up before he even got the chance to pick you--not that it’d be anything more than a friendship couple anyway. But at least he’d get to spoon you. Or share a bed with you. Or watch you breathe peacefully while you sleep. Or see your face first thing in the morning.
You never stay in the same couple for long. You’d end up with someone else at each recoupling. No matter who you coupled up with, you'd find yourself looking for something else, something that was always missing. You want someone to care for you, to make you laugh, to give you everything you ever needed. Something was never quite right about your couples.
The only constant during the recouplings is Bobby. He’s your own personal cheerleader, encouraging you to go after any guy you’re interested in. He’d tell you to go on those dates with Lurik, urge you to participate in Operation Nope if you showed interest in Noah, and even try to get Rahim out of the gym so you could graft on Gary, anything for you. And, of course, whoever you go for ends up liking you back. Why wouldn’t they? They’d be absolutely mad if they didn’t. You were radiant. You recouple with your man at the next chance. As usual, his chest tightens and his heart drops to his stomach.
Whenever it didn't go the way you wanted, he'd go out of his way to cheer you up: your favorite breakfast, hot and ready the next morning, compliment showers to keep you confident, or even a shoulder to cry on. While it hurt him each moment he wasn’t with you, it hurt more to see you hurt. He does whatever he can to fix it. You tell him you don’t deserve a friend like him.
Amid the coupling/recoupling, his bed would sometimes wind up next to yours. You’d make your way to bed first, before your man did. You’re on the edge of your bed and he’s on the edge of his bed, both propped up on an elbow, bodies separated by a few inches, hearts separated by a mile. He wishes he could just reach over and hold you.
He asks if you’re alright. His heart softens when you whisper back saying you were alright, but it falls when you say you’re feeling good about this couple. Your eyes sparkle and you smile wide, his mouth mirrors your smile, but his eyes don't. He knows your man would appear at any moment, so he cracks a joke to see your face light up once more for the day. Your bright eyes widen with your gleaming smile, lighting up his night.
He tears his gaze away from you when he hears footsteps approach and bedsheets rustle next to you. He lies on his back and stares at the ceiling. Strong arms wrap you up as you sigh contentedly and fall asleep. He wishes that were him.
The lights go off and you’re still facing him, but you’re in another man’s arms, in utter bliss. He turns to face you again, studies the outline of your curves, memory filling in the rest of the details. He knows that he shouldn't be doing this; it won't help his situation at all. But you were so beautiful without even trying. How could he look away? He savors the stillness of the villa, darkness masking his longing gaze. He tries not to fall asleep or in love.
It doesn't work.
The cursed casa. The sound of your voice wakes him up. His eyelids flutter open and he gives you a small smile. You tell him that you’re leaving with the girls, and you don’t know how long you’ll be gone. The news jerks him awake; he sits up straight but his stomach drops. You say you're going to miss your best friend. He says he’ll miss you more.
You already aren’t with him in the way he wanted, but now you literally wouldn't be there. He's already struggling watching you strut around the Villa without being able to touch you, to hold you. He’s gotten himself used to admiring you from afar, almost becoming numb to the pains in his chest. Almost. But at least you were there . What would he do without you? He sighs. You both hear Priya looking for you, and he knows that’s your cue to go. You give him a peck on the cheek and he blushes, thankful that the room is still dark.
He starts missing you from the moment you left the side of his bed. The Villa suddenly feels empty, despite all the new girls in it. You really were the light and heart of it, and he was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Now you’re gone and he has nowhere to go. He constantly wanders around the Villa, hoping it would keep his mind from wandering towards you. But he always catches himself staring at your seat on the dining table, or your favorite yellow beanbag, or your preferred daybed.
While he misses you more than he'd ever admit, he’s also a little bit worried. He’s seen the show before--he knows what leaving the Villa meant: new boys. Practically all of the boys in the Villa are after you, himself included, but now there are going to be even more? Your grip on his heart gets tighter by the day, but you slip through his fingers like sand.
The return. The boys are gathered in the living room area of the Villa, waiting for their cue to go to the fire pit. Bobby paces across the room, occasionally stopping when his thoughts run past him.
Above all, he's worried about you. If you switched, you were safe. His mind keeps going to the alternative: you didn't switch, and you were at risk of going home. He glances at Lurik and Blake, anger bubbling inside of him. How can you have the audacity to steal MC from her partner and then switch on her not even a week later? He clenched his fists, nails digging into the flesh of his palms, eager to knock some sense into Lurik.
He receives the telltale message and walks out of the Villa. He sees quite a few people gathering at the fire pit, but he couldn’t recognize anyone. As he approaches, he sees Marisol, who seems smaller as she was cuddled up with a ginger man much larger than her. He sees Chelsea, whose legs were dangling on the lap of a tall black man. Lottie, Priya, and Hope are alone. And then, in the back of the crowd, he sees you.
The warm glow from the hanging lights and the deep blues of the infinity pool were nothing compared to the way your eyes lit up the night. He instantly grinned, excited to see you. As quickly as it came, his smile disappears when he eyes the empty space next to you, realizing you were alone and in danger. You race towards him, practically jumping onto him and pulling him into a tight hug. He softens as he feels your soft skin and smells your perfume and shampoo. All of his worries melt at your touch.
Revelation. In the kitchen, he hears Hope bragging that she can tell who likes who. It’s her intuition, or some shit. He rolls his eyes. You challenge her, asking her who likes you. She thinks for a moment, then says she reckons Bobby likes you. You glance over to him, whose face turns beet red, clearly embarrassed at the revelation. You search his face for answers, but he avoids meeting your eyes. Hope shrugs, says that’s just what she thinks, and then walks away. Bobby stammers, face flushing an even deeper red, and excuses himself, leaving you dumbfounded.
You keep thinking about what Hope said. Bobby? Your best friend, Bobby? He's never said anything before, he's never made a move, or even hinted that he would. You thought he was just a friend; you never thought he’d have feelings for you. The thought of it is just ridiculous to you. He encourages you to go on dates with and graft on other boys. Why would he do that stuff if he has feelings for you?
And then it hits you. All the things he does is because he has feelings for you. He’s always the first to compliment you--even if it’s first thing in the morning and you feel like shit. He’d bring you your favorite breakfast and a warm cup of tea. He’d bake you cupcakes on the days you really weren’t having it. He’d crack a joke or three whenever he sees that you’re upset and not engaging in the group conversation. If you’re stressed out from all the drama, he’s the first to pull you aside for a chat, or even give you a little massage. No one in your life has ever put as much effort into making you feel better, ever. Not until Bobby.
You never think twice about these things because you thought he did them out of friendship, but you realize he’s the one who cares about you the most. It never occurred to you that he’s the one you needed this whole time.
Bobby finds solace on the roof terrace. What the hell, Hope? He sits down and buries his face in his hands. He didn’t want you to know that. Well, he did. But not like this. He didn’t want to ruin a perfectly good friendship with you over his stupid feelings. He sits up for a bit, legs bouncing, all of his emotions swirling inside of him, begging to be released. Shit, how am I going to face her?
The faint creak of the terrace door opening interrupts his thoughts. His eyes meet yours and then tears them away. He stands up and heads towards the door, apologizing and saying he'll leave. You grab his wrist and stop him. You say you want to talk. He stammers and nods, despite himself.
You take a seat together and he notices your hand is still on his. Warmth rushes to his cheeks. You ask him if it's true. He opens his mouth and closes it, unsure of what to say. Should he confirm his feelings and risk losing his best friend, or should he deny them and continue living in agony, watching you with other men? How will he look, admitting his feelings at the very end? Should he let you be with someone else, even if it costs him his own happiness? He chews on the inside of his cheek and fiddles with the hem of his shorts.
He’s gotta take this chance. “I-erm… I-” He fumbles over his words. He takes a deep breath and steadies himself. “I really want to be with you. Like, ever since day one. It was always you.” He blushes, words feeling more real since they’ve come out of his mouth. “But if you just, like, want to go back to being best friends then…” He trails off, scratching the back of his neck.
“I want to be with you,” you say. He freezes. What. You notice that he pinches himself. He’s at a loss for words. You giggle. “You’re not dreaming.” There’s no way.
The final recoupling. The familiar chime of a text broke the tension in the air. You make your way to the front of the firepit, stilettos clicking against the wooden deck. Bobby is completely and utterly mesmerized by you, as he always is.
“The person I'd like to couple up with is…” You looked around the firepit and a smile started to spread across your face. Your gaze landed on him, catching golden eyes that shone brighter upon reflecting the dancing flames. The warmth of your smile rivals the Majorcan heat, but nothing comes close to his feelings for you. You look at this man and see that everything you were looking for found its way to you instead. Your smile grew wider with your excitement, more than ready to be with the one you love. “...Bobby.”
End.