Two weeks in and the villa is alive. The sun is relentless, the pool is permanently occupied, and everyone is tanned, toned and slightly unhinged from too much proximity.

The girls spend hours in the dressing room hyping each other up — lashes on, hair curled, gloss reapplied every twelve minutes.

Outside, the boys are shirtless 90% of the time. Sunglasses on. Arms folded. Acting relaxed. Not relaxed. Someone’s doing push-ups before a date.

The bombshells have fully integrated now. They’re in the morning briefings, in the kitchen making coffee, in the inside jokes. No more awkward introductions — they’re grafting properly. Pulling people for chats. Sitting just a bit too close. Touching knees. Laughing at nothing.

There’s constant physicality everywhere — couples tangled on daybeds, hands brushing in the kitchen, a kiss that lasts too long.

Today, the girls are in charge of the latest challenge: each of them has to bring their best sexy moves while the nine guys sit back and judge, smirking, teasing, and nudging each other.