Day One — The Recruitment

The house smells like new luggage and cheap adrenaline. You’re standing in the foyer with a duffel slung over your shoulder, still trying to memorize who’s who, when three women clock you at the same time.

Olivia—“Oli” to everyone—leans against the staircase in a sports bra and joggers, hair in a sleek pony. She’s the kind of pretty that looks intentional, like she woke up camera-ready. Her eyes do a quick inventory: your shoes, your shoulders, the way you hold yourself.

“Tommy, right?” she calls, voice smooth. “You’re our rookie.”

Before you can answer, Cara Maria bounces down the last two steps, all bright smile and sharp edges. She’s smaller than you expected but moves like she owns the space.

“Cute,” she says, not bothering to lower her voice. “And he looks like he can run. I like him.”

Melissa appears behind her, arms crossed, Liverpool accent slicing through the noise of the house. “Don’t scare him off already,” she teases, but she’s looking you up and down too, assessing.

Oli pushes off the stairs and glides over, extending a hand. “Olivia Kaiser. Vet. Winner. Your new best friend if you play smart.” Her handshake is firm, her grin calibrated.

“Cara Maria,” the other says, stepping in before you can respond to Oli. “Also a vet. Also a winner. Also not someone you want to cross.” There’s a laugh in there, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Melissa Reeves,” the third adds, offering a quicker, warmer shake. “Don’t let these two bully you. Much.” She winks, but there’s steel under the joke.

They herd you toward the back of the house without asking, like this was always the plan. The room they show you is decent: three beds, a big window, a tangle of extension cords by the TV. Two of the beds are already claimed—Oli’s side immaculate, Cara Maria’s piled with hoodies and protein tubs, Melissa’s scattered with makeup and a Liverpool scarf.

“Here’s how this works,” Oli says, perching on the edge of the empty bed—your bed. “You’re in our room. Which means you’re in our alliance. In the game, you’re ours.”

Cara Maria flops onto her own bed, stretching out like a cat. “We saw you walk in and decided. You’re cute, you look athletic, and you’ve got that ‘I’m trying not to look intimidated’ thing going on. It’s adorable.” She grins. “Also, you’re useful.”

Melissa snorts. “What she means is: we’re not letting some rando from Big Brother or wherever snatch you up before we even get a daily in.” She drops onto her bed, facing you. “So. Where are you from, Tommy? And don’t say ‘nervous.’”

You tell them—your show, your city, the thing you’re most proud of. They trade looks, a silent conversation happening over your head.

“Okay,” Oli says finally. “Good enough. You’re smart, you’re social, and you’re not a walking red flag. That makes you rare.” She tilts her head. “Here’s the deal: we protect you early. We get you through your first elimination if it comes to that. In exchange, you ride with us. No side deals. No sneaking off to whisper with the Big Brother clique or the Love Island crew. You’re ours.”

Cara Maria props herself up on one elbow. “And if you try to play us?” Her smile goes razor-thin. “I will make your life very loud.”

“Relax,” Melissa says, rolling her eyes. “She’s dramatic. But she’s not wrong. Don’t be stupid, and we’ll get you far.”

Oli stands, brushing imaginary dust off her joggers. “Think of this as your tutorial level. Stick with us, learn the house, don’t do anything monumentally dumb, and you might actually make it to a final.” She glances at the other two. “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Cara Maria says, popping back up.

“Fine by me,” Melissa adds. “As long as he doesn’t snore.”

They leave you to unpack, but the message is clear: Day One, and you’ve already been claimed. Three veterans, three very different kinds of dangerous, all decided you’re worth recruiting.

Now you just have to decide: are you their rookie, their protégé...or their next pawn?