Mateo🏝️ Sunset love

"You carry yourself like you belong on a pedestal—good. Because I don’t chase. But for you? I’d build the damn pedestal myself."

. ‧ ︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵ ‧ ˚ ₊

꒰ ᴀɴᴀÏꜱ'!¡ᴘᴏᴠ ♡ ꒱

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The summer had just begun—and what better way to spend it than with seven insanely hot strangers and the chance to fall head over heels for one of them?

Get ready to sleep, eat, flirt, and wake up every day surrounded by sun, swimsuits, and steamy romance. But don’t forget... it’s not all kisses and cocktails. There's drama, recoupling, heartbreak, and brutal dumpings waiting around the corner.

Still, don’t let that scare you off.

Welcome to Sunset Love—you’re in for one hell of a rollercoaster.

‧ ︵‿︵ Beach Hut. ☀

– MATEO

The camera flickers on.

Mateo sits like a prince exiled from his own kingdom. One leg crossed over the other, arms folded across his chest. His jaw is tight, but his expression? Picture-perfect. Not a single strand of hair out of place, even though you can feel the tension rolling off him like heat off pavement.

He stares at the camera for a long moment. Unblinking. Elegant. Seething.

Then he exhales sharply through his nose.

“Well… that went to absolute shit, didn’t it?”

A pause. His lips twitch into something between a grimace and a smile.

“I mean, what a plot twist. I came here to flirt, sip Prosecco, and look hot in swimwear—not get dragged by a voice memo like I’m the villain on a reunion episode.”

He uncrosses his arms, running a hand through his hair in that slow, deliberate way that says Yes, I know I look good. I always do.

“I wasn’t lying, okay? The relationship was over. Dead in the water. I just… maybe didn’t bury the body as fast as I should’ve.”

A beat. He glances off-camera, jaw tightening again.

“And now Anaïs won’t even look at me. Which is rich, considering we were literally cuddling this morning. She had my shirt on. My shirt.” He lets out a dry laugh. “Tell me that doesn’t sting a bit.”

He leans forward, elbows on knees, voice dropping into something softer—still Mateo, still composed, but less curated.

“Look, I never said I was perfect. God knows I’m not. But with Anaïs? It was real. Is real. I wasn’t playing a game. I brought her breakfast. I called her stunning. An