It’s the question on everyone’s mind. First Jiyoon. Now Eunji. Who will be the next one to have her secret boyfriend exposed? No one says it outright, but I can tell we’re all thinking it from the tense atmosphere in the villa. From the nervous glances that are constantly thrown in Eunji’s direction. From the urgent, whispered phone calls I hear when walking by Sumin’s door on my way to the bathroom late at night. From the look on Lizzie’s face as she scrolls through Reveal, reading the article published about Eunji and Geonwu for the thousandth time. Her expression clearly saying, What if this was me?

And I feel it more than anyone. Alex and I have almost been caught together twice now. Three times, if you include that fan photo way back in Singapore when we first met. This double date was totally reckless, and it’s only by sheer luck that I’m not in the position Eunji’s in now.

When the news broke, Alex FaceTimed me right away, but I let it go to voicemail, shooting him a quick Can’t talk now text. I have to put some distance between us, rebuild the boundaries that my heart charges past every time we’re together. I’ve been playing with fire, and it’s only a matter of time before I get burned.

For three days, I try to talk with Eunji, but she refuses to be alone with me, fleeing every room I walk into, shooting daggers at me as she goes. Actually, Eunji is hardly speaking to anyone—not even Mina and Lizzie. The only person she’ll talk to lately is Jiyoon. The two of them have never been particularly close, but it’s clear that Eunji knows that Jiyoon understands what she’s going through better than any of us. I try to support them both, but lately it seems like every little thing I do is unwelcome. I try to stay out of everybody’s way, hiding in my room to focus on the eighteen new designs I have to come up with, but even so, I feel like I’m tiptoeing around the villa, constantly trying to avoid land mines that could blow up without warning.

When we arrive at the multigroup concert, the tension is still thick in the air.

“You better not screw up the choreo today, Sumin,” Ari says as she pulls her long black dress over her yellow sequined minidress. But unlike their usual harmless squabbling, there’s real bite behind Ari’s words. “You always miss the beat on the last step in the chorus. It’s literally the easiest part of the whole dance, and you still manage to do it wrong.”

“Excuse me?” Sumin says, shooting Ari a glare. “How about you worry about yourself. Every time you’re sharp on the high note in verse two, I feel like my eardrums are bleeding.”