Chapter 14

"Have you ever been to LA?"

Krystin's voice cuts through the dark of the room, and Lauren automatically turns—as if she's turning to face Krystin, even though she's not, even though she's still on the top bunk and Krystin's on the bottom. They haven't actually fallen asleep in the same bed since Patagonia, but it's starting to feel like every night they spend more and more time in a post-sex cocoon until Krystin squeezes her hand and rolls over or Lauren yawns, climbs back to her bunk, and tries not to feel her absence.

And then, sometimes, Krystin starts talking again. About Montana, or about Ringo, or even her parents or Delia. Lauren likes it best when she's almost too tired to respond, when the steady but excited cadence of Krystin's voice is the last thing she hears before falling asleep. When she's exhausted, it's easy to forget how temporary all of this is. How Josh can, and will, cut her string and send her packing, probably any day now.

"No," Lauren says. "Just Disneyland when I was, like, six."

"I'd like to go, I think." Krystin pauses. "Just to visit. It would be fun, right?"

Kaydie left for Los Angeles this morning, which means McKenzie's been buzzing around the chateau all day, gushing to anyone who will listen about how she went skydiving with Josh in Buffalo. Lauren was appropriately polite at first—in a weird way, McKenzie's starting to grow on her, maybe because she generally minds her own business and never takes too long or leaves a hairy mess in the shower—but eventually, her ramblings got so repetitive that Lauren started to wish Josh would pop up out of nowhere to make them go to a cocktail party or therapy-themed group date.

She must be exhausted from dealing with McKenzie all day. It's the only reason that now, from the safety of the top bunk, Lauren lets herself imagine going back to California with Krystin: massaging sunscreen into her tanned back, taking stupid photos of her at the Santa Monica Pier, making her come in airy hotel rooms.

"Maybe," Lauren says, after realizing Krystin's been waiting for her response. The fantasy pops and falls to the ground like a pierced balloon, because really, she's never traveling anywhere with Krystin again—unless, of course, they somehow both make it another week to overnight dates. When Krystin thinks of visiting LA, she's probably imagining a cozy Airbnb with Josh, dressed in cargo shorts and looking up the best local sports bars on Yelp.

"Does your family ever go on vacations?" Krystin asks.

"We used to." Lauren rolls over again, until she's facing the wall. She wishes she could come face-to-face with Krystin, but in a way, it's almost easier to talk to her like this. It's definitely easier to quietly think about traveling out of state with Krystin when they're separated by an entire tier of the bed—when Lauren can think about whatever she wants, really, and not worry about Krystin or anyone else trying to read it on her face. "When my sister and I were younger."

"What was it like?" Krystin asks softly. "Growing up with a sister?"

"When we were kids?" Lauren asks. "Or when we were, like, in high school?"

"Both." Lauren hears Krystin turn in her bed, too. She wonders which way she's facing now.

"We're not that close anymore." Lauren just stares at the wall. "To be honest, I'm not close with a lot of people. Some college friends, kind of. Damian, I guess. But not Rachel, or my parents."

She waits for Krystin to ask her why, or even snort and make a joke. Something like, Yeah, huge surprise there, or Are you saying you're closed off? Didn't you tell Josh your doors were always open? But obviously, those are things Lauren would say, and Krystin, in classic Krystin fashion, just says, "That sounds lonely."

"I mean, I'm not always great at talking to people," Lauren admits.

"I don't think that's true," Krystin says softly.

"Yeah. Well." Lauren shrugs, even though Krystin can't see her. "I'm sure my sister's watching me on TV. And I guess she's going to meet Josh at Hometowns."

"Right," Krystin says, after just a slightly too-long pause. There's something hard to decipher in her tone, but then she lets out a breath of a laugh, and it's gone. "I don't know anyone who's watching me on the show. I'm sure my parents are watching, but it's not like they know anything about it."

"Rachel does. And Damian," Lauren adds. "It's the only thing she and I ever really did together in high school. We all watched Hopelessly Devoted every Monday night."

She can practically hear Krystin smile. "Your sister's a Devoted Fan?"

"She nominated me, actually. Several years ago." She squints, trying to think. "I guess that would've been … Danny's season? Anyway, the producers clearly thought Josh and I would be a better match. So here I am."

"So your sister—I mean, Rachel. She doesn't know that you're less into leads like Danny and Josh, and more into leads like Amanda from season twenty-one?" Krystin's tone is light, teasing, but there's a real question there.

"Amanda and I wouldn't have worked out. I think I'm more into the blonde cowgirl type," Lauren replies. She can't see Krystin's reaction, of course, but she wishes she could. She can picture it: Krystin's cheeks flushing pink, her lips curving into an embarrassed, private smile. "But to answer your question, no. She doesn't."

They're both quiet for a few moments. Lauren's about to speak again—maybe to explain that she's not ashamed of being a lesbian or anything, but that her sexuality just feels so big, so real, so personal. It's the most glaring, obvious thing that makes her different from the other women in every environment she's inhabited: her suburban high school, her sorority, her mutuals on Instagram, the Hopelessly Devoted cast.

But then Krystin beats her to the punch. "People would like you," she says. "If you did want to get close to them."

Lauren doesn't know what to say to that. Frankly, it's a little terrifying that she's apparently that transparent. "How about you?" she asks, opting for a subject change. "Did anyone nominate you?"

"Uh, no." Krystin's silent for a beat. "I nominated myself."

"Why?"

She lets Krystin take her time to answer. "I guess … I was pretty lonely too."

Her voice sounds so vulnerable that Lauren lets herself imagine, yet again. Taking Krystin back to New Jersey, or even New York City, and introducing her to Damian. Going back to Montana, meeting Krystin's family and horse—doing all of the things that Josh will get to do in a matter of days. Something in her aches. "So you were a fan of the show, too?"

"I am," Krystin says. "I mean, I wasn't watching every single Monday night like you and your sister …"

Lauren smiles. "Rachel's always super obsessed with the lead," she says. "She especially loves the promos, when they show a shirtless guy rubbing soap all over his abs while he squints and moans like he's constipated."

"That's not what they look like," Krystin tries weakly, but Lauren can tell she's stifling a laugh. "You're ruining it."

"Sorry," Lauren says. "It's true. Even Damian agrees that the gratuitous shower scenes are overkill."

"Wait." She thinks she hears Krystin sit up. "Damian, your ex-boyfriend, likes Hopelessly Devoted?"

"He likes the guys they cast."

"He …" Krystin's voice trails off. "Oh. Really?"

"Yeah." Lauren laughs. "What, you thought I really dated a guy for years while I was hooking up with girls? I might be a bitch, but I'm not, like, a cheater."

Krystin's response is so instantaneous, it's almost alarming. "Well, you admitted to cheating at mud wrestling—"

"I wouldn't cheat on a person who actually had feelings for me," Lauren says, because maybe she's technically cheating on Josh with Krystin, but he doesn't count: He likes a shoddily edited Wikipedia version of her, if anything. Besides, aren't they all kind of in an open relationship right now? Krystin starts to say something, and Lauren, nervous that she's already brought this conversation somewhere way too vulnerable, cuts her off. "How tired are you?"

"Um … not really tired," Krystin says, confused. "Anymore."

"Cool. I have an idea." Lauren dangles her seal-smooth legs over the bed. "Let's go for a swim."

Technically, they aren't breaking any rules.

It's not like there are rules about how much the Devotees have to sleep, or how late they're allowed to wander around the chateau, or even when they're allowed to use the pool. To be fair, there's probably an implicit rule that they're not supposed to go night-swimming with other contestants while the Romantic's away on a hometown visit, but there's also an implicit rule that the contestants shouldn't have sex with each other, and Lauren's now broken that one, like, seven times in as many days.

"What if there's a security camera?" Krystin asks softly. Still, she places her towel on a nearby pool chair. "And what if they catch us, like …"

"We're just swimming," Lauren says before dropping her bathrobe and revealing a black string bikini. "In a G-rated way. Get your mind out of the gutter, babe."

The nickname just slips out, but Krystin doesn't even seem to notice. She's staring at Lauren's body like she's never seen a woman in a swimsuit. "You usually wear that pink set," she says. Maybe it's Lauren's imagination, but her voice sounds a little strangled.

Lauren grins and ties her hair back into a ponytail. "I didn't realize you were taking inventory of my bathing suits."

"I just feel like I'd remember this one."

"Yeah, well." She takes a step closer to Krystin. "It's too skimpy for network TV."

"And here I thought we were also having a G-rated night," Krystin says, a smile slow-dancing across her face.

Lauren runs a hand down the curve of Krystin's body, then turns to step into the pool.

For all the time she's spent by the pool, Lauren hasn't actually gone swimming yet. The water feels warm against her skin, and then there's Krystin, quietly following her in. It's dark, but she can see Krystin's eyes go from anticipatory to glimmering, teasing. "Race you to the end of the pool?" she asks. "Or are you too scared to get your hair wet?"

"Not at all." Lauren smirks. "I'll even play fair this time."

Krystin counts down from five, and then they're off. As she swims, Lauren realizes that somewhere along the way—between their flight to Buenos Aires and their impromptu tango lesson and the nights she's spent relishing, memorizing the way Krystin looks when she's turned on—this girl has actually become her friend.

"Okay." Krystin's head pops up from underwater just as Lauren's feet touch the pool wall. "I can't tell who won."

Lauren adjusts her bra; this bikini really was not made for swimming laps. "Rematch?"

"You're on."

This time, Krystin's the clear winner, but it's okay. Because her moonlit face looks so triumphant, happy and at peace in a way that suits her nicely, and then she's wrapping her arms around Lauren's waist and kissing her, urgently. When Lauren slips a thigh between her legs, she whines, pulling her impossibly closer.

"Wow," Lauren says softly, moving her lips to the spot right underneath Krystin's earlobe. "Winning really turns you on."

"Winning," Krystin agrees, "and this." One of her arms snakes further down Lauren's back, and the other traces the thin fabric of her bikini top. It takes her little to no effort to move the bra to the side, and then, in a haze, Lauren unties it altogether and tosses it somewhere near her bathrobe. The feeling of Krystin's soft, certain hands on her bare skin—especially paired with her soft, certain lips on Lauren's—is fucking lethal.

And, really, just good. Krystin's lips make their way down to Lauren's chest, and as they start to find new ways to fold their hips and thighs together, Lauren takes the opportunity to squeeze Krystin's perfect, firm ass, then pick her up. Krystin's legs automatically wrap tightly around Lauren's waist and she rocks her body against her torso, like she's desperate for contact. Like she's riding her underwater.

"Here." Lauren gently lifts her to the edge of the pool. She leaves an open-mouthed kiss on the crease of her bikini bottom and feels Krystin's thighs twitch. "Wanna take this off?"

She doesn't even hesitate. As she slides off the fabric, Lauren takes a moment to just look at Krystin: this strong, huge-hearted, occasionally obtuse, but irresistibly hot rodeo queen completely splayed out in front of her. Her whole body is glistening wet. Her lips are parted, and her heavy eyes are set on Lauren.

Lauren doesn't say anything as she kisses up Krystin's thighs again, spreads her legs with her hands as she traces her clit with her tongue. "You win," she murmurs eventually, and Krystin breathlessly giggles. She's positive she's making obscene noises too, especially when Krystin tosses her head back and sighs out Lauren's name like it doesn't even matter if she won, if she lost, if a sleepless producer walks out right this second and sees her come against another girl's lips, like nothing matters except this.

And when Krystin gasps out that she's so close, that it feels so good, that Lauren, I'm gonna—

Nothing else does matter. Definitely not a fucking TV show.

Krystin starts breathing again in relieved, bone-tired heaves, and then she smiles, bright against the dark California sky.

And then Lauren pulls her back into the warm water.

The shower they take afterward, on the other hand, is completely innocent. Well, it's almost innocent. Lauren lands a few kisses on Krystin's chest, and she does accidentally groan when Krystin massages shampoo into her scalp, and at one point, after Krystin's thoroughly cleaned her body with bar soap, she slips three fingers into her like it's the most natural thing in the world, and fine. Like their dip into the pool, it isn't G-rated at all.

But they don't fuck when they climb into Krystin's bunk. Instead, Krystin curls her naked body into Lauren's like she's a Tetris block fitting into the perfect place. Their legs tangle together, and Krystin's breath is hot and gentle against Lauren's neck. She's positive Krystin's nodding off, but then she hears her speak.

"You said you don't get close to lots of people." Her lips tickle the sensitive spot right above Lauren's sternum. "But we're …"

She doesn't finish her thought. "We're what?" Lauren asks quietly. She hates how vulnerable she sounds. She hates that every atom of her being is suddenly on high alert, waiting for Krystin to elaborate.

"I just feel like I know you."

Lauren can't tell if it's what Krystin initially planned to say, but either way, it's a jarring thing to hear—and anyway, she's not sure if it's true. Sure, Krystin knows how she likes to be touched; Krystin knows that she doesn't like men, that Damian is also gay and her best friend in the world, that she's not always a good person but she'll put her ass on the line to help someone who matters. Krystin knows she can be a liar. Krystin knows she's cold and strategic. Krystin knows she can't even manage a healthy relationship with her sister that stretches beyond Hopelessly Devoted's two-hour airtime window.

Krystin doesn't know Lauren, necessarily, but she knows all of that. And somehow, none of it stops her from tilting her head upward to kiss Lauren one more time, gently, and nestling her head back near the curve of her right boob. She falls asleep there before Lauren can think to move back to her own bunk.