Craft Beer & Roses

Chapter 3

The wicker chair squeaked beneath Aviva's weight as she pulled her legs to her chest. She hunched forward to wrap her arms around her knees; her dark caramel curls blanketed her bronzed face and shoulders. There was a massive camera directly in front of her, a red-light flashing, ready to record. To the right of it sat a tidy-looking woman in a crisp white polo and tight blue jeans. Her ginger-red hair had been gathered into a high, sleek ponytail, and the pin-straight strands swayed with the slightest movement. When Aviva entered the beach hut, the woman immediately introduced herself as Saoirse and limply shook Aviva's hand before taking a seat. She was holding a shiny green clipboard that clacked against her French-tip nails whenever she adjusted her legs beneath her.

"So Aviva," Saoirse began, "how was your first day?"

That's a loaded question.

Aviva had chosen to couple with Alfie, and the honest smile he gave her rivaled the brightest stars in the sky. While excited at the prospect of finding new love, Aviva wielded her cautious optimism like a shield against her heart. It was still tender, despite the work she'd done all those months ago to repair it, and the thought of letting someone in again too soon kept her guarded.

In another unexpected upset, Kat slithered her way out of the villa doors and had to go and claim the one decent boy Aviva had chosen, forcing her to plop down solo on the subs' bench. It felt like sitting on a hotplate; the Spanish sun had roasted the surface throughout the morning, and her bum was on fire. This whole day was starting to feel like a punishment.

She racked her brain for something positive. Even if Eddie gave her the ick, she'd still take him over Suresh, any day.

But Dana chose Eddie, and with that, Aviva's most dreadful nightmare came to life. With no one left to pick, Suresh sidled close to her side. The warmth of his body overwhelmed her. Not in the irresistible way it used to, but in a way that made her want to sprint all the way back to London. He went prattling on about fate and how the two of them were meant to be. Aviva couldn't recall the specifics; she was too focused on her despair.

It must be 'Take the Piss Out of Aviva Day' here on Love Island...

How many sins had she committed to land herself in this fresh hell? Aviva flipped through her Rolodex of past transgressions. There was the time she pierced her septum and sheathed her body in tattoos just to spite her mum. Or when she used to relentlessly torture her little cousin with elaborate, fear-inducing pranks. Or maybe it's because of all those times she "accidentally" nicked bottles of nail varnish from Boots and conveniently forgot to return them. She prayed that this was all a bad dream. She begged and pleaded to any power above for another boy to walk out the doors.

She didn't think it'd actually work.

A new boy strolled toward the group with certain steps. His long, auburn hair cascaded against his rugged shoulders. All muscles and tattoos, he was the most welcome sight Aviva had seen all day. His bearded smile gleamed in the sunlight, and his dark green eyes scanned the line of islanders before landing directly on Aviva. She stiffened under his watchful gaze. His glinting smile titled into an arrogant smirk as noticed her lingering stare.

"Hello all you beautiful people!" He greeted in a cheerful Irish brogue. "I'm Finn. What's the craic?"

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Saoirse flipped a page on her clipboard, eyes searching intently for the next question.

"Tell me more about Finn. You two got pretty cozy up on the roof terrace, didn't you?" Her light brown eyes found Aviva's over the brim of her rectangular glasses.

The roof terrace. Finn had invited Aviva up there for a chat. After the coupling fiasco, it was revealed that Finn would be able to steal a girl the following night. Sure, he'd given Aviva flirty eyes, but he looked at all the girls that way, especially Kat. Aviva thought he was disarmingly good-looking, but from his coquettish grin, cheeky winks, and masterfully crafted compliments, Aviva could only surmise that Finn was just another typical fuckboy. She'd sworn off of those six months ago.