Have the Faith I See In You

"What a mess," Anastasia muttered.

She kicked a small rock along the shoreline a few times, as if she was dribbling a soccer ball, before striking it hard enough to get it to land in the water. The actions reminded her of a time back when she was five, playing soccer in a youth soccer program her mother had signed her up for. Her mom had been so proud of her when she scored her first goal, like nothing else mattered in the world but her achievements. Now, her mom couldn't be any less disappointed in her. Unable to find a job, unable to find footing, unable to find a boy suitable to meet her parents. Hell, she was even disappointing her mom with her gymnastics performance.

"Yeah, being around Paige can sometimes do that," Becca sympathized. "I don't know how you're putting up with being her roommate."

Anastasia sighed, pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail. “It’s not just Paige. I mean...it's everything. I was brought here onto this stupid show under false pretenses and I barely even know Turner. And now I’m supposed to figure out how to what, flirt? Keep him interested? Compete? It’s exhausting.”

Becca stepped up to meet Anastasia's stride, kicking another rock to her. "There was a certain point where none of us knew Turner. Granted, for some of us, it was many years ago, but all of us started from nothing."

Anastasia’s shoulders slumped as she struck that rock into the shallow tide. “I get that, but you all at least had some kind of history with him. Me? I met him once at a party, and now I’m supposed to… I don’t even know what. Act interested? Be fun?”

"Well, that depends," Becca put her hands on her hips. "Are you interested in him?"

"I mean, kinda?" Anastasia stopped in place to face Becca. "He's cute and all that, but I just don't know him super well."

"I think we're past the point of 'kinda' liking him," Becca faced the short girl beside her. "You're up against girls who are smitten with him, including yours truly. Even if I'm not in the competition, I'm still around. Just 'kinda' liking him isn't gonna cut it in this place."

Anastasia huffed out a breath and folded her arms, staring out at the water again. “That’s exactly what I hate about this whole thing. Everything is so… intense. It’s like if you’re not completely obsessed, you’re already losing."

Becca shrugged lightly. “You don’t have to obsess, that's my job as his official girlfriend, to obsess. But you do have to figure out what you actually want. Those are two very different things.”

Anastasia glanced sideways at her. “You’re way calmer about this than I expected.”

Becca snorted. “Oh, don’t worry. Last week, I absolutely would’ve tried to throw you into the ocean for even thinking about him in that way.”

“Comforting,” Anastasia deadpanned.

"I'm serious," Becca continued. "Ask around, Emma will tell you. But Kendra...and a long series of events involving divine intervention...if Turner's happy, then I am."

Anastasia tilted her head slightly, studying her more carefully now. “You’re not pretending that?”

“Nope.”

“And you’re not secretly hoping he only picks you in the end?”

Becca hesitated. “I'm his girlfriend, I obviously still want him,” she admitted. “But I don’t want him to feel trapped. I know he's still happy with me, and that's more than enough for me.”

Anastasia studied her for a few seconds like she was trying to figure out whether Becca was lying, delusional, or somehow just stronger than she looked. “That makes no sense," she finally decided on.

Becca laughed softly. “It didn’t make sense to me either. I kept thinking there had to be a catch. Some point where I’d snap and go full psycho on somebody.” She kicked another rock into the water. “Hasn’t happened yet. At least, since getting brought back from elimination. Kendra's magic is scary.”

Anastasia gave a quiet, humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, it’s not just scary. It’s… humiliating.”

Becca raised an eyebrow. “Humiliating how?”

“Because it’s like the show is trying to decide who I am before I even get the chance to figure it out myself,” Anastasia sighed as she ran a hand through her auburn hair. "I know you didn't know who I was before showing up here, but believe it or not, I was quite the party animal."

"You? Party animal?" Becca laughed incredulously. "Yeah right, I've barely seen you crack a smile in this place. I bet you and Kathryn could really get into a glare-off or something."

Anastasia rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of amusement there now instead of irritation. “I smiled a lot before this place,” she muttered. “Usually right before doing something stupid.”

“Like what?”

“Like deciding it was a great idea to go out three nights in a row before a meet. Or thinking booze would fix literally any problem."

"Meet?"

"Gymnastics," Anastasia clarified, striking her salute pose for a second before rejoining Becca on her walk. “I wasn’t bad at it, I even placed multiple times. I just…stopped trusting myself. Every time I went for something hard, I’d hesitate for half a second, and that half-second ruined everything.”

Becca slowed her pace so they were walking side by side instead of slightly apart. “You sound like Turner when he talks about work,” she said. “Like he thinks if he messes up one part of his work, everything’s going to collapse. Which, to be fair, he works for the government, so...”

Anastasia gave a small smile. “Great. So I have the same emotional stability as the guy I’m supposed to be winning over.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Becca laughed. “I just mean he’s not some perfect, confident guy who has everything figured out. He's gonna kill me for revealing this, but even when it looks like he's calm as a cucumber, he's barely holding everything together.”

Anastasia looked down at the sand, dragging the front of her shoe through it. “That almost makes it worse.”

“Why?”

“Because if he’s not some sort of...paragon of calm, then why does everyone act like he’s the center of the universe?” Anastasia muttered. “You, Emma, Abby, Sara, even Paige in her own weird way.”

Becca didn’t answer immediately. She just watched the waves for a moment, letting the silence stretch long enough to feel honest.

“Because he notices people,” she finally said. “Like really notices them. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm willing to bet at the party scene that most guys just looked at you and think about what they want. Turner looks at people and thinks about what they want.”

Anastasia thought back to the time she met up with Turner back at college. He had seemed relatively interested in what she had to say, and wasn't actively checking her out like many of the other people there. Even in the few interactions she had seen him in among the context of the show, he seemed to put everybody else first.

“I don’t even know what I’d do if he did notice me like that," Anastasia finally said. "I’m not like Sara where everything turns into some big emotional moment. I’m not like Abby where she just jumps in headfirst. I just… overthink everything.”

“Then stop trying to compete with everybody else,” Becca said simply. “A large part of why Kendra brought everybody here, at least my theory, is that we all represent ourselves differently. Someone like me is going to show feelings for Turner in a very different way than even my own sister. And another one of the scary parts...Kendra's amplifying many of them, molding us to fit those preferences."

Anastasia continued staring off into the sand. What role was Kendra trying to push her into? "I'm not exactly a headstrong, dominating **** like Kathryn or Paige," she thought. "Not a source of adventure or mischief like Abby or Sara. Not familiar, like Becca or Lana."

"Hey you two!" a sudden voice chirped from down the beach.

Turning her head towards the source, Anastasia found the ball of energy known as Charlotte hurtling her way down the beach, blonde ponytail bouncing behind her, crop top and shorts seemingly right out of a "hot girl catalog" from high school.

"Hey Charlotte, how are you doing?" Becca said, her mood lifted slightly.

“I’m fantastic,” Charlotte announced, placing both hands on her hips. “Also slightly bored, which is a dangerous combination. Ana, you look like someone spat in your cereal, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Anastasia said, not meeting Charlotte's eye line. "Being all bright and chipper here is really what's off-putting, I'm just being realistic is all."

“Okay, realistic girl,” Charlotte countered. “What’s the realistic part? That this place is weird? That most everyone’s obsessed with Turner? That half of us don’t even know why we’re here anymore? Because none of that is news.”

“I was just telling Becca that...I just don’t fit here,” Anastasia admitted quietly. “Everyone else has some kind of role. Sara’s the romantic one. Abby’s the go-getter one. Paige and Kathryn are playing some sort of chess game. You’re...”

“A walking serotonin commercial?” Charlotte offered.

“Exactly,” Anastasia muttered. “And me? I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be.”

Charlotte’s expression changed, more determined, a rare change from her typical cheerful look.

“Oh, I know exactly what you are,” she said, stepping closer. “You’re the girl who forgot how to have fun because she’s too busy worrying about being perfect.”

"That's exactly what I was trying to get at," Becca assented. "You're too worried about being this version of you that's perfect, just to coast through the game and get out as soon as possible. You do realize that by coasting...you risk being eliminated from the competition, right? And, more importantly, you won't get to know the absolute awesome person that is Turner."

"Pause, that is not 'more important'," Anastasia held her hand up to Becca, stifling a laugh as she realized how head-over-heels Becca was for Turner.

“You know what your problem is?” Charlotte asked.

Anastasia sighed. “Please don’t say something inspirational. I don’t think I can survive that right now.”

“Oh, it’s absolutely going to be inspirational,” Charlotte replied cheerfully. “But also incredibly annoying.”

Becca snorted quietly beside her.

Charlotte stepped closer, her energy practically radiating off her in waves. It wasn’t just that she was smiling — it was the way she carried herself, the way her shoulders stayed relaxed, the way she looked like every moment was something worth enjoying instead of something to survive.

“You’re acting like this place is a test you have to pass,” Charlotte continued. “Like if you say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, look the wrong way, you’ll just get thrown out and that’ll somehow prove someone right about you.”

“Wow,” Anastasia muttered as Charlotte hit the nail on the head. “You went straight for emotional homicide.”

“Hey, if there's one thing I'm not, it's subtle,” Charlotte shot back, flashing a grin. “But you know what? I've got a plan. We're doing a confidence reset.”

"A what?"

“Confidence reset. It's exactly what it sounds like. Stand up straight.”

“No.”

“Stand. Up. Straight.”

Anastasia hesitated for a second, then reluctantly acquiesced.

Charlotte beamed like she had just solved world hunger. “Good. Now shoulders back. You’re literally built like a gymnast and you’re walking around like someone told you that your life would end if your gaze was above parallel.”

Becca snorted. “She does kinda walk like she’s expecting someone to yell at her.”

Anastasia glared at both of them. “I regret coming down here.”

Charlotte stepped closer again, lowering her voice slightly. “You’re not supposed to win Turner by being someone else,” she said. “You’re supposed to win him by being the version of you that isn’t scared all the time.”

That hit harder than anything else she’d said.

Anastasia looked away toward the water again, but this time she didn’t feel like kicking another rock.

“...I used to be fun,” she admitted quietly.

Charlotte didn’t hesitate for even half a second. “Cool. Then let’s bring that version back. Because right now, you just look like someone who forgot she’s allowed to exist without apologizing for it.”

Becca smiled softly. “Yeah,” she said. “I’d like to meet that version of you too.”

Anastasia exhaled slowly, the tension in her chest finally loosening just a little.

“God, you two are annoying,” she muttered.

Charlotte threw her arms up in triumph. “Yes! That’s progress. If you're insulting me instead of ignoring me, it means you're feeling better.”

For the first time since they’d come down to the beach, Anastasia actually laughed.

It was small and quick, like she didn’t quite trust it yet—but it was real.

Charlotte froze for a second, then grinned like she’d just won a championship.

“There it is,” she smirked, almost reverently. “See?”

Anastasia rolled her eyes again, but she didn’t argue.

“See?” Abby said brightly. “No crashing, no sinking, no dramatic **** at sea. You owe me an apology.”

“I owe you nothing,” Turner replied automatically, though his voice had lost some of its bite. He was too busy staring at the shoreline.

It was the island. Same manicured hedges, same pale stone path winding upward from the dock, same stupidly perfect palm trees that never seemed to drop a single dead frond. The balcony railings matched exactly. Even the little decorative lanterns along the path were in the same positions.

"How did we get here if we basically traveled in a straight line?" Turner wondered aloud.

"Well, I did take us for quite a spin back there," Abby smiled mischievously. "Maybe we just happened to circle back to the direction we came from."

"But we couldn't see the island before you took us on the so-called 'scenic route'."

"Well, we're here, might as well go to the next part of our date!" Abby chirped, unperturbed by the premature ending to the first part.

Turner rolled his eyes and decided to lean into the date. Abby had gotten them back safely, despite her lack of boating knowledge, and her dates in the past had been a lot of fun, so he trusted her to continue that trend. She had also been able to take his mind off of Phoebe for a while, which was nice; he had been worried sick about her since her arrival the night before.

"C'mon, I forgot to pack supplies!" Abby broke him out of his stupor and pulled him off of the marina.

"Supplies?" Turner parroted.

"For a picnic...sorry, feeling a bit scatterbrained right now," Abby amended. “C'mon, to the marketplace area!"

Abby tugged him along the stone path with the kind of urgency that made it feel less like a walk and more like a mission. Turner followed, still glancing back once toward the dock as if the answer to his earlier question might suddenly appear there. The boat sat exactly where they’d left it, bobbing gently in the water. Nothing strange. Nothing out of place.

"Kendra, we weren't even trying to escape the island," he thought, knowing that the host was capable of reading them. "It's not like you could've just let us stay out on the water longer."

"Let's see, we need sandwich stuff, fruit, drinks, and..." Abby started rambling, then suddenly stopped, almost causing Turner to walk into her. "Of course dessert, how could I be so careless as to forget dessert?"

Turner blinked. “You forgot dessert but remembered to drive a boat you’ve never touched before.”

“That was instinct,” Abby replied confidently. “Dessert requires planning.”

Abby slowed her pace so that Turner could catch up with her on the cobbled path, and she took his hand in hers once he matched her gait.

"This is perfect," Abby smiled up at him.

"What's perfect?" Turner prodded.

"Us," Abby clarified. "This date. Everything. I used to always see you as just my girlfriend's sister, but now? Even after a few short weeks, I don't think I could be happier."

Turner didn't answer right away. Not because he disagreed, but the way she had just laid everything out like it was as easy as counting to ten, it threw him for a loop.

"Well, I can think of one teeny tiny detail that might make you a little happier," he countered. "Maybe if we weren't on a show being run by a woman mad with power."

"Stop muddying my little happy place!" Abby yelled, letting go of his hand quickly to lightly punch his shoulder.

"Sorry, sorry, I'll let you have your moment," he shook his head with a smile on his face. "Truth be told, I'm really happy with where I am with you too."

Abby, likewise, didn’t say anything right away after that. She just stared at him for a second longer than was comfortable, her expression softening in a way that didn’t match the teasing energy she usually carried around. Then she smiled again, quick and bright, like she’d caught herself being too sincere.

“Good,” she said simply. “Because I would’ve had to push you into the ocean if you weren’t.”

“That seems excessive.”

"Hardly."

Turner opened the door to the small little grocery store on the island. He hadn't ever been in the building, since all of his food came made to order up to the room. There was something charming about the mundanity of it all, like he was just buying groceries back on Earth like he did every week. He half-expected some painfully upbeat soft rock to play just to add to the immersion.

"Alright, real talk, let's go to the deli to gram some meats," Abby, once again, brought him back down to Earth...well, technically, away from Earth. "Turkey? Ham? Chicken?"

"Why not all three?" Turner quipped. "We can go wild, we're playing with house money here."

Abby grinned at him, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “That’s my man. Alright, bread time."

They quickly worked through the store, grabbing every single food item that even slightly piqued their interest. Breads, cheeses, spreads, toppings, everything made their way into the cart. It felt oddly domestic, something that he had done a million times with Becca back in Virginia. Turner looked over at Abby grabbing a third bag of chips, she seemed to be genuinely happy with everything that was happening.

After piling enough food to feed an army into the cart, they made their way to the front of the store. As almost everything else on the island was, there were people around, enough to feel normal, but just wrong enough to feel uncanny. As they made their way into a checkout lane, Abby got a bit quiet, with this pensive look her face.

"Turner, do you trust me?" she simply asked.

"What do you mean?" Turner responded.

"I mean, I've known you for a pretty long time and I can tell when you're relaxed," Abby looked up at his eyes, leaning against the shelves. "You always do this half-smile thing when you are. Whenever I saw you and Becca around at home, it was constant, almost sickening. But I haven't seen you do that today. At all. And I'm wondering if I pushed it a bit too far with this whole adventure and now...I broke some sort of trust barrier you had with me."

"I...I was willing to do this whole boat ride thing with you," he responded, likewise leaning back and landing on a cooler. "I don't think I would've done that if I didn't trust you, especially given my fear of the ocean."

"I know you trusted me enough to get on the boat," Abby quietly said. "I'm asking if you're willing to not pretend with me."

"Pretend what?"

"That you're fine when you're not," Abby set an item down on the conveyor belt. "You always do that, you make everyone else feel fine but silently carry the burden yourself. I'd seen you do it back home whenever Becca was in a particularly bad mood...and I've seen you do it a lot more now that you're surrounded by all of these women from your life."

Turner knew exactly what she meant. Abby had always been better at reading him than she let on, but usually hid it behind layers of teasing and sarcasm, similar to him. Hearing her say it this plainly and openly, without the smirk or the safety net of a joke, it was much heavier than any conversation she'd had with him.

“I’m not pretending,” he said after a second. “I’m just…trying not to overthink everything for five minutes.”

Abby looked at him like she didn’t quite believe his words. “You’re allowed to overthink stuff with me. I’m not gonna break if you admit you’re nervous, you know.”

“I know,” he replied quietly. “I just don’t want this to turn into another thing I ruin by worrying too much.”

That made her pause. The cashier began scanning items one by one, the little beeps filling the silence between them. Abby reached forward and nudged the divider bar a little closer to the edge, like she needed something to fiddle with to make her hands comfortable.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” she said. “You just take too much responsibility for stuff that isn’t actually yours to fix.”

"Kathryn told me that once," he said, looking at the front door of the store. "She said I worry too much about making every detail of my work right, that I was too scared to take the plunge and make a risky judgment."

Abby tilted her head. "Wow, even Kathryn's telling you to be less rigid. Maybe she's right though, maybe you shouldn't worry about every detail being right. Especially those out of your control. You can always share the burden, there are more than enough people here who care deeply about you and want to be a part of that."

"That's not how responsibility works."

"No, it's not," Abby admitted, before wrapping an arm around his waist and looking up at him with those brown eyes of hers. "But it is how relationships work."

After the cashier finished scanning all of their items and announced the total...which neither of them had to pay because of the perks Turner had on the show...they started making their way out of the store. Abby grabbed onto his hand again as they walked, swinging it playfully between the two of them. She didn't let go even after they stepped through the automatic doors and felt the sunlight beating down on the two of them.

"Do you have a blanket or something we can eat on?" Turner asked.

Abby's face faltered for a second, before scanning her surroundings and finding a display of beach towels on the side of the street. "Of course! Right here!"

"You're impossible," Turner shook his head.

"You know you love me," she grinned, before grabbing a towel and slinging it over her shoulder. "Alright, let's find a spot."

"There's a really good hill kind of near the hotel," Turner suggested, recalling a place he and Sara had gone stargazing before.

"Sounds good to me," Abby assented, as her eyes sparkled. "Lead the way, Mr. Explorer."

As they set off down the stone path again, Abby looped her arm around his, making sure to stay close to him and gain that physical connection she so desperately craved. Everything felt so real, even if the environment around them seemed to be screaming otherwise.

“So, what’s our game plan once we get there?” Turner asked, balancing a basket full of bread, cheeses, meats, and a surprisingly heavy stack of canned drinks. “Eat, nap, watch the sunset, escape from hypothetical seagulls?”

“Hypothetical seagulls?” Abby repeated, one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, seagulls. They always attack the good cheese first.” He nudged her lightly with his shoulder. “I’m trying to mentally prepare.”

"Well, I think you've gotta protect me from those seagulls," she laughed, elbowing him slightly in the ribs. "Even if shouldering the mental load isn't your duty, this certainly falls under your umbrella."

Turner grinned despite himself. “Yeah? How exactly would I do that?”

“Hmm…” she tapped her chin dramatically, then smirked. “Use that beautiful brain or yours, obviously. Or your brawn. Preferably both. You know, be the hero type.”

The hill came into view eventually—gentle, sweeping, and crowned with a perfect patch of grass bathed in sunlight. Turner set the basket down and Abby dropped the towel, shaking it out before spreading it on the grass.

“This is perfect,” she breathed, flopping down onto the blanket dramatically. “Look at us, surrounded by nothing but open space and sunlight. And sandwiches. That's very important.”

Turner chuckled, kneeling beside her. He started unpacking the basket while she arranged plates and utensils with a meticulous care that somehow made everything feel both casual and intimate. He caught her glancing at him every so often, her smile always lingering just a bit too long.

“So…” Abby started, twirling the package of bread to untie it, “Do you trust me enough to tell me honestly if this is too cheesy, too perfect, or too much of a ‘reality show fantasy’?”

“Honestly?” Turner asked, unpacking one of the packages of deli meat. “It’s kind of perfect. I mean, this is exactly the kind of thing I didn’t know I needed to get my mind off of things.”

She sat back on her heels, clearly pleased. “Good. Because I would’ve given you so much shit if you didn't say that. And you know me, I don’t half-ass these things.”

Turner laughed softly, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. “I know. That’s what makes this fun. And terrifying. Like I could get used to this.”

Her grin widened, mischievous but softer than before. “That’s the plan.” She nudged him playfully. “Now, help me prepare some of this fruit. These strawberries aren’t going to slice themselves.”

Turner shook his head, still smiling, as he got to work beside her. Everything about the hill, the sun, and Abby’s presence felt unreal in the best possible way. For a few moments, all the doubts, all the meta-awareness of the show, and all the questions about his sister all melted away. Abby, perfectly molded to his tastes, teasing him in the ways she knew he loved, was sitting right there. And Turner realized, with a strange mix of awe and comfort, that he didn’t need answers to everything to enjoy this.

As the sun moved lazily across the sky and the two of them ate their sandwiches, Turner looked at Abby and thought, "Yeah…this could be perfect."