Every Night, Every Day, Just to Be There in Your Arms

Turner smiled as he saw Abby being content. He noticed that she was somewhat quieter when she wasn't actively trying to impress anyone, or maybe it was just that her mouth was busy with the massive sandwich she had fixed herself.

“You’re staring,” Abby said around a mouthful of bread and meat, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously.

“I’m not staring,” Turner replied, leaning back on the blanket. “I’m observing.”

“Observing what?”

“How someone who’s five-foot-nothing manages to eat something the size of a small building.”

Abby swallowed, wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, and gave him a look that was halfway between annoyance and amusement. “I’m five-foot-one, thank you very much. And if you keep making fun of me, I’m not sharing the cookies.”

"You mean to tell me you're going to eat all four dozen cookies you bought...yourself?"

"No, but I'm making sure that you're not gonna get any of them if you keep this up."

"Right, so you're just gonna go giving them away to other people?" Turner asked incredulously.

Abby leaned forward, eyes narrowing, her expression serious in a way that never lasted more than a few seconds. “You underestimate my generosity.”

“You underestimate your sweet tooth.”

Abby snorted and shoved his shoulder with the back of her hand, then leaned back on her elbows and tilted her face toward the sun. For once, she looked completely relaxed. No trying to outdo anyone. No competing. No calculating how she looked from every angle. Just Abby being… Abby.

"I'm glad that this reality show is at least nice enough to put us on a tropical island," she mused, looking off the side of the hill towards the ocean. "I'd be throwing hands if we were in some sort of frozen hellhole."

Turner laughed. “You’d last about ten minutes in a place like that.”

"Yeah, but hey," she looked back over at him. "I did step out of my comfort zone and take you skiing that one time."

"You did, but that involved about seven layers of clothing."

"Only six," Abby protested, before laying her head across Turner's lap. "And don't act like you were any better."

"You threw the clothes at me and told me to put them on," Turner said, running a hand through Abby's brown locks of hair. "Didn't have much of a choice."

Abby laughed slightly, her hair tickling Turner's wrist. He absentmindedly gazed off into the distance, twirling a strand of her hair in his fingers as he heard the sounds of the nearby beach. The seagulls squawking, the waves gently crashing, the girl on his lap chewing something that definitely wasn't a sandwich.

“…You’re eating the cookies already, aren’t you?” he asked.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Abby replied immediately, her voice muffled by what was very obviously a chocolate chip cookie.

Turner looked down to see Abby with her eyes closed as if she was perfectly innocent, save for a crumb on the corner of her mouth betraying her, and a hand not-so-secretly hiding a second cookie.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said.

“Mmm,” she replied contentedly. “And yet you still love me.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. There was something about Abby when she wasn’t trying to win something that made everything feel… lighter. Less tense. Like the whole show faded into the background for a while.

Turner reached for a cookie, and Abby swatted his hand away with a grin. "Hey! I told you those are mine."

"That was only if I kept making fun of you," Turner protested.

"Well, I changed my mind," Abby said, arching her back slightly before settling her head back down on his lap.

"Rude," Turner scoffed, before squinting his eyes to see someone scaling the hill. "Hey, someone's coming."

Abby turned her head to look off in the direction where Turner was looking, and saw a tall figure with jet black hair. "Oh, it's just Sara."

As Sara got closer, she stopped briefly, a look of bewilderment on her face, as if she hadn't expected to see anybody here. That bewilderment quickly turned to relief, and then more confusion.

“Turner,” she said quietly.

Abby looked up lazily. “Hey Sara.”

Sara blinked. "You're here too?"

Turner frowned. “What do you mean ‘too’? You saw her drag me away for a date earlier today.”

For a second she didn’t answer. She just stared at him like she was trying to figure out whether he was real or not. Her breathing had picked up slightly, and he could see her fingers tighten around the strap of her bag.

“You’re acting weird,” Abby said bluntly. “Did Lauren give you a hefty dose of arousal or something?”

Sara’s gaze snapped to Abby, and there was fire behind her eyes, resembling intense jealousy that didn’t feel like it belonged to the same person.

“You’re with her?” Sara asked.

Abby raised an eyebrow. “Uh...yeah? Like he said...you saw the two of us earlier today.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Turner sat up straighter, pushing Abby's head off of his lap. “Sara, seriously, what’s going on? You look like you just saw a ghost. Did something happen to Phoebe?”

“I just didn’t expect to see you here,” she said, her eyes darting between Turner and Abby. “Not like this.”

Turner slowly rose to his feet, positioning himself between Sara and Abby. "Sara, you’re scaring me. Did something happen? Did… someone put you up to this?" He noticed a flush creeping up her neck, a warmth that seemed to radiate off of her like heat from a fire. "Sara… talk to me."

Sara’s lips parted as if to speak, then closed again. She took a step forward, and Turner instinctively moved with her, subtly placing a hand behind himself towards Abby as if to shield her. “I thought… I thought I’d never see you like this,” she murmured, making Turner's stomach churn more than it had on the boat ride.

“What do you mean?” Turner asked, keeping his tone steady despite the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Sara’s eyes briefly flicked to Abby, registering the closeness between them, before snapping back to Turner. “It’s just… I don’t know how to explain. I… I need… I need this,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"Is this about how our date yesterday ended?" Turner posed, hopeful it was just that and not anything worse. "How Phoebe just crash-landed in and kinda...derailed the night? And you're trying to make up for it now?"

“No, it’s… it’s not that. I…” she swallowed hard. “I need… I need this. I need you.”

Abby stiffened beside him, her hand instinctively moving to Turner’s arm. “Whoa, okay, back up. Did I just hear that right? ‘Need him’?”

Sara’s eyes flicked to Abby, a sharp edge of jealousy flaring. “You don’t understand. I… I can’t… not like this. Not when I see… him.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, almost urgent. “Turner… I need you to look at me.”

Turner felt a strange tension coil inside him. Something about Sara was… off, different. Her intensity, her fixation—it wasn’t the Sara he had known for years, not even the magically-altered Sara that he'd known for a few weeks. There was a hunger in her eyes that he’d never seen before, and it made his stomach twist with unease.

“Sara, I—” he began, trying to keep his tone calm, “you’re acting… really strange. Are you feeling okay?”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly. “I’m… I’m fine. I just… I can’t lose this. Not again. Not like… before.” She stepped closer, her presence overwhelming in the afternoon sun. “I don’t care about anything else. I just… I need you. Right now.”

Turner froze, sensing the intensity radiating off Sara like heat from a flame he couldn’t put out. Abby’s hand on his arm tightened slightly, a subtle reminder that he wasn't alone in whatever was happening right now.

“Sara… slow down,” Turner said, raising both hands in front of him cautiously. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this isn’t…the you that I know. Did Kendra set you up to this? Is everyone okay? What is happening right now?”

Sara reached out, brushing a strand of his hair back behind his ear. Her touch lingered, sending a shiver down his spine despite himself. “I’ve been… waiting,” she whispered, her words dripping with urgency. “Every moment without you felt empty, Turner. You don’t understand… I need this. I need you. It's been so long...since you were out like this.”

Turner’s eyes darted between Sara and Abby, the tension thick enough to make the ocean breeze feel suffocating. This wasn’t the easygoing, teasing friend he remembered. Her obsession, her need, was radiating off of her in waves, and every instinct screamed that he needed to keep a boundary, even as his gut twisted at the sight of her like this. This also had Kendra written all over it...was this her trying to say that Turner was being too passive?

“Sara,” he tried again, holding up a hand, “look, I get that something’s… off, but I’m not… I can’t just...”

“I don’t care about normal!" Sara exclaimed, pushing his hand down to his side. "I don’t care about rules! I just… want you. I need you. Right now.”

Abby’s hand gripped his arm, grounding him. “Listen to me, Turner. She’s… she’s not okay. You need to step back, or this is going to get… messy. Dangerous messy.”

"I know that, Abby, I'm just worried about her because something is obviously not right, and we just can't throw her to the wolves!" Turner half-whispered back at his date behind him.

Sara’s lip quivered, but she didn’t relent. “Dangerous… I like that. Don’t you see? This...us...it’s the only thing that keeps me alive!” Her voice dropped to a whisper, hot and urgent. “Turner… just look at me. Don’t turn away. Don’t ignore me. Please.”

Turner’s heart pounded, his mind splitting between instinctive caution and the strange, compelling **** Sara radiated. “Sara, you know I care about you,” he said carefully, “but this… this obsession—it’s not love. It’s not healthy. It's not you. You have to… step back. Please.”

“I… I don’t care!" Sara shouted, running forward and wrapping her arms around Turner. "I need you, Turner. I’ve been… empty… until now. You don’t understand. I’ve tried to… to fill it with anything, but it’s never enough. Only… you…”

Turner inhaled slowly, his mind racing. "This isn’t Sara, not entirely. It’s… something else. Something in the show has twisted her...and I have no idea what."

“Sara,” he said slowly, “look at me. I care about you. I always have. But this need… this obsession, it’s not who you are. You’re not safe feeling this way. Let me help you calm down, okay? We’ll figure this out. Together, but only if you let me. Step back.”

Her eyes locked onto his, shimmering with a mix of fury and longing. For a heartbeat, Turner thought she might break, scream, anything. But then… something shifted. The flush on her cheeks deepened, and her grip loosened, though only slightly, as she swayed back and forth between her feet.

“I… I can’t,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’ve waited… so long… feeling… nothing. I thought if I just… if I could… I’d… I need… I need you to see me!” Her hands fell to his chest, pressing lightly but insistently, trembling with need and fear.

"Tell you what," Turner said, pulling back and returning to Abby's side. "Tomorrow, I'll come down for breakfast. While I'm not on a date. I'll come down to breakfast and...we'll fix this."

For a long moment, Sara said nothing, her eyes locked on his, the intensity of her obsession slowly giving way to a fragile, trembling vulnerability. Then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. “Okay… okay. Tomorrow. Breakfast. You… you’ll see me then?”

Turner gave a small, reassuring nod. “I’ll see you then. And we’ll figure it out. Together. Calmly.”

Sara exhaled shakily, a mixture of relief and lingering longing washing over her. She stepped back, giving them space, and for the first time since arriving, Turner felt a small measure of control return to the situation.

Abby leaned against him again, letting out a quiet sigh. “That… could have gone worse.”

As Sara retreated down the hill toward the path that led to the resort, her gaze never fully left Turner’s, and he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was messing with them. That wasn't the Sara he knew from the show, far from it.

"What the fuck was that?" Abby said as soon as Sara was out of earshot, mirroring his own thoughts.

Turner ran a hand through his hair and exhaled, letting himself sink back onto the blanket next to Abby. “I… I don’t even know what to say. That was… intense. Way more intense than anything I’ve ever dealt with.”

Abby tilted her head, a small smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. “Intense is one word for it. Creepy is the one I would choose.”

Turner glanced toward the path where Sara had disappeared, a part of him already uneasy about what tomorrow’s breakfast would bring. “I’ve known Sara for years, and… that wasn’t her. There’s something different. Something… off.”

Abby raised an eyebrow, letting her legs stretch lazily in the sun. “Maybe she just really likes you,” she said lightly, though her tone carried a trace of worry. “But yeah… that was… a lot. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her that… ****.”

Turner nodded, absently picking at the crumbs on the blanket. “I get that, but it wasn’t just desperation. It felt… like she was addicted to me. Not in a playful, teasing way. In a… something’s wrong, obsessive way.”

Abby sat up slightly, her expression softening as she studied him. “You mentioned Kendra. Do you think she's responsible for any of this?”

"Oh, a hundred percent," Turner grimaced. "What I'm wondering is why she hasn't made herself present on the island for these major events. Phoebe showed up...nothing. Sara turns into an obsessive lunatic...nothing."

Abby frowned, looking over at the forgotten remnants of their picnic. “So what? We just…deal with it? Ignore it until she loses it completely?” She looked genuinely concerned now. “Turner, you could get hurt. Or she could really hurt herself.”

He rubbed his temples, the sun hot on his neck. “I can’t just step away. Not now, not with how she looked.”

"Just promise me you don't get yourself into more trouble than it's worth," Abby said, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I can't lose you to something like this."

"I promise I'll be careful," Turner assented, bringing an arm around Abby's shoulders and rubbing her arm gently. He continued looking at the direction Sara had left in, running through all of the possibilities in his mind.

“Hey,” Abby said, interrupting his thoughts, “don’t overthink it. Let the day be what it is. We've still got a whole afternoon and evening for the date. We’ll deal with crazy Sara tomorrow, yeah?”

"Alright, sure," Turner smiled, enamored with Abby's ability to get him to relax. "I won't spend your whole date worrying about someone else. Where to now?"

"Well...since I made you face one of your biggest fears in the ocean, I think it's only fair that I face one of my biggest fears," Abby said nervously.

"And that is...?" Turner pressed.

"I found a really good ziplining place around here," Abby took his hand. "C'mon, let's go!"

Kendra sighed deeply, bags under her eyes and papers strewn all about her office. The tension from the network executives still lingered in the air like an unshakable fog. They had called her in yet again, reprimanding her for being “too soft,” too forgiving, too unwilling to push the contestants into the kind of drama that made the ratings spike.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, rubbing at the tension that had set in over the past few days. Her desk was a battlefield of half-finished scripts, notes on contestant profiles, and emails from executives that practically screamed in bold typeface: “Your leniency is costing us viewers!”

"Who the hell authorized Phoebe to be brought in here?" one of them had yelled at her. "That derailed Sara's entire date, and all of the tension that was building up between her and Turner! People wanted to see a repeat performance of their last date!"

A knock at her door startled her. She didn’t bother to hide her irritation. “Come in, dear,” she called, her voice flat.

Georgia stepped into the office, similarly tired, her clipboard clutched like a shield against the mounting chaos. “Kendra… we need to talk,” she said softly, but the weight behind her words made Kendra sit up straighter.

Kendra glanced at her, her exhaustion sharpening into something more alert. “I ain't got the energy, Georgia. The execs are breathin' down my neck, and I swear, if one more email lands in my inbox with ‘unacceptable’ in the subject line, I might scream.”

"What's all the execs' problem?" Georgia sat down on a chair in Kendra's office. "Didn'tcha do what they asked for with the whole Becca...elimination nonsense?"

"Apparently I'm not 'malicious enough' or whatever," Kendra waved her hand. "They've been lookin' at other seasons and, well, compared to them...I'm essentially a benevolent host."

"You? Not malicious enough?" Georgia chuckled. "I saw what you did in that last challenge...the laced ingredients. What're they talkin' about, 'not enough'?"

Kendra laughed softly, the kind of laugh that carried a mix of exhaustion and exasperation. “Well, you know, Georgia, that’s the problem. They think drama equals ratin's. They don’t care about the nuance, the tension that builds naturally, or, God forbid, the actual enjoyment of our guests. But you know what don't make good TV? A whole cast of characters who're transformed beyond belief and essentially an emotionless, cold harem. Forgive me for wanting a lil' speck of humanity in this joint!”

Georgia shifted in her chair, hesitating, the clipboard feeling heavier in her hands than it should. “Kendra… look, I know the execs are breathin' down your neck. But with you… you’ve been, well, not pushin' the contestants hard enough, some of them are startin' to notice the shift in leadership.”

Kendra buried her face in her hands. "Lord, help me with this shitshow. I can't even keep 'em in line anymore! D'you know where Abby and Turner went? I was followin' their date like a hawk, but one turn of that blasted boat and they ain't nowhere to be found!"

Kendra slammed her palms against the edge of her desk, the faint clatter of paper punctuating her frustration. “I swear, Georgia, if Abby and Turner don’t show up soon, I’m going to lose it. That'd just be the final nail in the coffin of this damn season of TV, and that's my ass on the choppin' block for them up in management."

A silence fell over the room as both women considered the delicate balancing act ahead. Outside the window, the sun was dipping toward the horizon, turning the pool water a molten gold. Kendra’s gaze drifted to the empty paths leading out toward the resort, imagining Turner and Abby wandering somewhere in the distance, oblivious to the tension brewing in her office.

"I'm not turnin' this place into some kind of circus just to make a buck.” Kendra paused, letting the words settle. “This ain't just about some harem master and a bunch of contestants. It’s about transformation, about testin' boundaries… about people. They’re real, and they’re feeling things, even if it’s just… weird and complicated.”

Georgia finally spoke, voice low. “Someone’s gotta keep the balance. Someone’s gotta be the one to remember that these aren’t just characters on a screen."

“That’s me," Kendra grimaced. "For better or worse… that’s me. Those damn execs just see ratings, they haven't gotten to know these idiots down on the island like I have.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. “But Georgia… if Abby and Turner don’t show up soon, I might just lose every last bit of control I have over this place.”

"What even happened to them?" Georgia wondered.

"I already told you, I don't have a fuckin' clue!" Kendra yelled. "I was bein' nice, lettin' them go out on the water, and they just vanished! Is that management's way of tellin' me I messed up?"

She shook her head, half-laughing, half-grimacing. “God, I need a drink. Or three.”

Kathryn sat at the bar, looking down at her cheesesteak. The monotony on the island wasn't lost on her; the constant changes in the analyst landscape were annoying sometimes, but they were changes. The only thing that happened around here day-to-day was a new catastrophe. A sexually charged challenge. A sexually charged transformation. Once, every ten days, a night out with Turner.

She sipped her drink, eyes narrowing as she spotted Phoebe approaching, her gait hesitant but confident, like someone who had known the rules before they were ever written. Phoebe’s small frame didn’t command space the way Kathryn’s did, but there was something about the ease with which she moved around that set Kathryn’s teeth on edge. She'd been meaning to take Turner's sister aside earlier when they were shopping, but never found the time.

“Hey, Kathryn,” Phoebe said softly, glancing down at her shoes for a moment before meeting Kathryn’s gaze. “Can we… talk for a second?”

Kathryn set her fork down with a deliberate clink. “Sure,” she said, her tone neutral but her mind already racing with the possibilities. She gestured to the stool next to her, not moving from her own.

Phoebe hesitated before sliding onto the seat, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “I just… I wanted to make sure we’re on the same page,” she said carefully. “Sara and I go way back. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to...”

“To replace me?” Kathryn interrupted, her voice sharper than intended. Her eyes narrowed, studying Phoebe like a puzzle she didn’t yet have all the pieces for. “Because that’s what it looks like. Sara’s only been working with me for weeks now, but despite that, we have a system. You coming in now, all buddy-buddy with her, it’s a little threatening.”

"That's what she told me too," Phoebe rocked back and forth slightly, flinching at Kathryn's harsh accusation. "She told me that you reminded her of me all the time. That you were the perfect foil to her."

“A foil, huh?” Kathryn said, voice low but steady. “Interesting phrasing. So what you’re really saying is that Sara trusts me, but maybe trusts you more… because you’ve known her longer.” Her eyes locked on Phoebe’s, scanning for any sign of deceit.

Phoebe shook her head quickly. “No, not at all! Kathryn, you’re amazing at reading situations. That’s why Sara values you. I… I don’t want to replace anyone." Her fingers fidgeted lightly in her lap, betraying her nerves. “She also told me about how she was able to get you to open up a little bit."

Kathryn leaned back slightly, letting out a sigh and releasing some of the tension in her shoulders. “You realize what you’re doing, right? Sitting here, telling me how close you and Sara are, it makes me feel expendable. Like I could be replaced overnight by someone who’s been in her life longer than I have.”

Phoebe’s hands twisted in her lap. “I...no, that’s not it at all. I’ve only ever seen Sara rely on me because I’ve known her for years. But I see how much she depends on you, how much she respects your judgment. You’re…you’re vital to her right now.”

“Vital now,” Kathryn murmured, almost to herself. “And yet you’re here, casually reminding me that she’s known you longer, that there’s some shared history I’ll never have. It stings.”

Phoebe’s voice lowered, careful, almost pleading. “I don't want to compete with you here. I care about Sara, sure, but part of that is wanting to understand the people she trusts. You’re clearly one of them. I want to…I want to learn from you, not replace you.”

Kathryn studied the younger woman. “You know, most people don’t bother trying to understand me. They either try to befriend me or get in my way. Usually the latter, and it's usually spearheaded by some senior analyst who thinks he's hot shit.”

Phoebe took a deep breath. “I get it, Kathryn. I really do. And I respect that. I wouldn’t be here talking to you if I didn’t think you were important. I'm just trying to understand the game and the people who matter in it. And it seems like the two of us plus Sara are going to be rooming together for the foreseeable future, so I might as well get to know you.”

Kathryn blinked, taking in Phoebe’s words. “Alright,” she said, voice softening. “I believe you. It's just difficult adapting to another person, you know? It’s been me, Sara, and some occasional chaos brought in by the **** of nature known as Charlotte, which I'm sure you saw earlier today.”

Phoebe gave a small nod, her expression likewise softening as Kathryn relaxed slightly. “I get it,” she said quietly. “Change isn’t easy. And it’s hard when you feel like someone new is intruding on a space you’ve carved out. But you’re not being replaced, Kathryn. You’re… respected. Needed. Sara sees that, and I see it too.”

“Alright,” Kathryn said finally, a faint smile breaking through. “I guess we’ll see if this… partnership thing works. But for now, Phoebe,” she added, leaning in slightly, “don’t make me regret trusting you.”