Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
“No. I wouldn’t have agreed to do the show if I was in a relationship.”
That surprised me. “Why not?”
She shrugged. “You never know how shocking they’re going to try to make these shows. How they’re going to edit things. They could be trying for an angle that we’re still into each other. I know, it’s ridiculous, eight years later.”
According to the boner in my shorts, it wasn’t ridiculous at all, but I grunted in pretend agreement.
“If I had a partner, I wouldn’t want him doing this,” she said.
“Yeah, I guess I’d feel the same way.”
Lauren laughed lightly. “From the women I got to know at the resort before the show started, there are a lot of hard feelings on all the teams. The producers will have a hard time editing things to make it look like any of these ex-couples are into each other.”
Her words stung. Apparently, I was the only one feeling anything. She planned to keep me cast as the villain in our story, even though there was something important she didn’t know.
And she never would.
CHAPTER SIX
Day Seven—Fourteen teams remaining
Lauren
Three days after our treasure-hunting expedition, I woke up later than usual, according to the height of the sun, anyway. Alone in the shelter and feeling groggy, I stood and rubbed my eyes, just wanting to curl up and go back to sleep.
This was apparently the day hunger and exhaustion were hitting me. I’d been told it would happen, but I hadn’t expected it to be so intense. My limbs were heavy and I was fantasizing about bacon and eggs…again.
As I left the shelter, a light rain fell on my face and arms. I grabbed a canteen and retreated back to the shelter, where I sat alone with my fatigue until Archer walked back into camp, Linda following him with a camera on her shoulder.
“No luck with fishing this morning, but we’ll still have meat,” Archer said, holding up a snake that was at least four feet long.
“Holy shit, that thing better be dead,” I said, instinctively scooting against the back of the shelter.
“Notice how it’s not moving?” he asked dryly.
I narrowed my eyes, his words about still having meat sinking in.
“Wait, are you planning to eat that thing?”
He nodded. “Tastes like chicken. We have to have protein and carbs for the competition today.”
Tears welled in my eyes, but I couldn’t comprehend why. Was it the exhaustion, the hunger, or the reptile on our breakfast menu?
Honestly, it was all of the above, and also homesickness. But I wouldn’t wallow. I took a couple deep breaths and pulled myself together.
“Want me to cook the rice?” I asked, emerging from the shelter.
“That’d be great. We’ve got an hour until we need to leave, and I have to skin and clean this thing.”
I deliberately didn’t look at the snake as Archer cleaned it. Instead, I watched him. The dark scruff on his cheeks was definitely working for me. His muscled chest and arms had tanned in the past week, and his black shorts hung a little lower on his hips. He had a single tattoo on his chest—a replica of the Purple Heart his grandpa had been awarded when wounded as a POW in Vietnam.
Archer had spent the past couple of days building a raft, weaving rope out of grass. I’d gathered snails, which were my least favorite thing to eat here, and spent a lot of time walking the beach.
It had only been a week, and I was already feeling the effects of poor sleep and little food. None of us knew how long it would take to be the last team standing, but it could easily be a month or more.
After starting the rice, I refilled the canteens and took a quick dip in the ocean to pee and rinse off the sweat. I’d never take toilets for granted again.
Back at camp, I added a few spices to the rice, and once the food was ready, Archer and I ate in silence. I was fantasizing about pancakes and sausage with extra syrup when he interrupted.
“You okay? You’re quiet today.”
“Just nervous about this competition.”
It was the truth, but that wasn’t why I was so quiet. I’d had a lot of time in the past couple days to think about my relationship with Archer, and questions I’d stopped thinking about years ago had bubbled back to the surface. I didn’t trust myself not to blurt them out, so I opted for silence.
There was one question in particular nagging at me—had he ever regretted our breakup? I’d started college at the University of Iowa not long after we broke up and he moved away, and it had taken a couple of years for me to not think of him often. While studying at the library or at off-campus parties, I’d wondered if I was where I was supposed to be. I could have been with Archer, attending school in Minnesota and cheering him on while watching his home games with the Mammoths.