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)
When I’d decided to do the show, I’d vowed not to develop feelings for him again—unless those feelings were renewed disgust and resentment. Admittedly, it was hard to feel those things when he looked at me the way he just had.
This was only a reality TV show. I had to keep my head in the game and remember it was only that—a game. And at the end, win or lose, Archer and I would return to our separate lives.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Day Nine—Eleven teams remaining
Lauren
Our camp was primitive, to say the least. We slept on rows of hard bamboo and sat on rotting logs around the fire. But I couldn’t deny that our bare-bones home was in an actual paradise.
I was walking the beach, searching for snails and watching Archer, who was out fishing on his raft.
The translucent turquoise water here took my breath away. Our view of open sky and a nearby island was majestic. I could never afford to vacation at a place like this; the show was my only opportunity to experience it.
I missed mugs of steaming, fresh coffee and deli sandwiches on pillowy white bread like nobody’s business, but this was the trade-off. I slid out of my shorts and walked out into the water in just my swimsuit, little waves lapping at my calves. One of my favorite things here was the feel of wet sand squishing between my toes. Walking out a little further, I squished with every step and then closed my eyes, putting my arms out and my face up to the sun.
It was morning, and the air was already muggy, but the wicked tropical heat hadn’t set in yet. I loved this time of day here, and I dreamed of one day returning with my parents and my sister Layla to show it to them.
I missed my sister terribly. Back home, we only lived about a thirty-minute drive from each other. At least a couple times a week, I spent evenings at her house helping her cook dinner over a glass or two of wine. I loved her husband and my two nephews and was often still there when the boys went to bed for the night.
Remember every last little thing so you can tell me about it when you get home, Layla had said before I left. And try to sneak some fire ants into Archer’s shorts while he’s sleeping.
My sister wasn’t a fan of Archer. She’d seen how hard our breakup was on me. I wondered what she would think of present-day Archer. Like me, she’d probably begrudgingly admit he’d gotten even hotter. And she’d probably say he was EU—emotionally unavailable.
One of the burning questions I wished I had the guts to ask Archer was what his life was like now. He didn’t have a girlfriend, so was he that stereotypical athlete who swiped right and hooked up with a different woman every night?
“Lo!”
Archer called out to me from his raft. I put a hand over my forehead to shield my eyes from the sun as I looked over at him. He was proudly holding up a huge, flopping fish, grinning and flexing with his free arm.
I smiled, about to congratulate him on the catch when I felt a sudden burning sensation on my ankle. Instinct made me pull my foot out of the water and when I looked down I saw the culprit—a jellyfish.
Cringing, I pursed my lips and tried not to let out the cry of pain I would have if I’d been alone.
I failed, unleashing a string of expletives that probably scared away every fish in the vicinity.
God, it hurt. It was like getting stung by ten bees all at once. I ran from the water to the safety of the sand, where I immediately flopped down and examined the sting.
Red and inflamed, it was several inches long. What the hell had we learned in our training about jellyfish stings? I couldn’t remember a thing.
An approaching splashing sound distracted me and I looked over. Archer was swimming my way, his arm looped through a towing line he had hooked to his raft.
“You okay?” he asked, breathing hard as he stood and ran the rest of the way, pulling the raft up onto the sand.
“Jellyfish sting.” I showed him the angry looking red line near my ankle.
“Shit, Lo.” He dropped to his knees in the sand, water dripping from the ends of his hair and droplets clinging to the lines of his defined chest. “What should I do? I don’t have any first aid supplies.”
“It hurts like hell,” I said, cringing.
“There has to be something I can do. Should I pee on it?”
He jumped to his feet and reached for the waist of his shorts, and I put up a hand to stop him.
My laugh was half-amused, half-crazed. My ankle burned like I’d just been branded, and the thought of Archer whipping out his dick and peeing on it was almost too much.