What do you think of each player? Love Nicole. Harlow is [pauses] Harlow. Alex is very adorable. I want my parents to adopt him. Francis is gunning to be my enemy. And Luna is [pauses] intriguing.

Why can’t we see Luna? I told you earlier. I’m not allowed to share the app with anyone. I was told to keep this a secret between me, Harlow, and [pauses] three thousand of you. Holy God. Okay.

The little timer is saying thirty seconds to go. It’s been real. It’s been fun. It hasn’t been real fun. I’ll check back in after dinner.

In the meantime, I’ve earned my nap.

Until next time.

Tell all your friends.

FRIDAY, 4:30 P.M.

Announcement

Please proceed to the Wardrobe Room for dress.

The theme of the evening is summer pool party.

Dinner will begin at 6:00 P.M. at the Blue Lagoon.

For your convenience:

A Nonsensical Recipe for Winning

Preheat oven to 314 degrees.

Mix all colors until batter is smooth.

Pour into sweet companion molds. Set aside all but three key ingredients.

Whip two partridges until a psychopomp and circumstance forms.

Share and cut the Baker’s dozen chocolate bar into quadragrams.

In a pressure cooker, separate the royal flush with red herrings wild. Bake for seven minutes.

Serve the chocolate concoction scrambled atop a pie on a cloudy white day under a winner’s cursed crown.

SOMETHING FOR HERSELF

FRIDAY, 4:47 P.M.

As soon as Stella walked into the Wardrobe Room with Harlow, she spotted Nicole and Francis sitting on a round orange ottoman together, already dressed for the theme of the night.

Almost immediately, she began wondering if their challenge had been anywhere near as harrowing as hers had been. Quite frankly, it couldn’t have been.

Their closeness—heads bent, and bodies turned toward the other—spoke volumes. Whispers and hushed laughter. Out-of-control heart eyes. Followed by quick, fleeting moments of eye contact as if they weren’t quite ready to fully commit to something that intimate. None of their behavior landed under D for devastated.

Interesting.

And deeply, deeply irritating.

“Stella,” Nicole called, seeing her. She stood up, smiling at Francis, before walking over. Her all-black one-piece bathing suit had strips of fabric missing in interesting places, and she had paired it with a lilac-colored sarong and matching strappy heels.

“Be still my heart,” Stella said with all the drama she could muster while fanning herself. “You’re just too hot for me. I cannot take this. I need you to change immediately.”

“Funny,” Nicole said.

“Who’s being funny? Surely not me.”

“Uh, is she okay?” Francis nodded to Harlow.

Not wanting to speak for her, Stella said, “This afternoon took a turn for the intense.” Harlow hadn’t spoken a single word all afternoon. Objectively, she looked like death warmed over with a zombie parasite attached to her brain as she perused the clothing selection. Stella was still deciding what, if anything, to do about that. She had a plan because that’s what she did—make plans and stay ready—but it wasn’t time to play her cards just yet.