‘Let’s just get this done,’ Ozzy tells us. ‘We’re almost there and I want to win.’
My cheeks go hot. I focus hard on the vine, but my fingers keep fumbling the knot. Honey comes over and helps me – between us, we crack it.
‘Love triangle alert,’ she sings at me under her breath.
‘Oh, no, it’s not a triangle,’ I insist.
‘Ooh, a square?’ she says excitedly. ‘Who else is in the mix?’
‘No one,’ I say with a soft laugh.
I pretend not to notice anything is amiss, focusing on tying the vines, but the air feels thicker suddenly. Ozzy’s jaw looks tighter than usual, and when Lockie laughs it just seems to make Ozzy tense up more.
I wonder if the producers are placing bets on how soon someone snaps. That’s what they usually do. They take bets on all sorts. First kisses, who will quit, who will have the first row. It feels like any one of those things could happen any minute.
It’s a relief, when our raft is done, and even more so when we all get on it and it stays afloat.
‘Islanders, all of you must board the raft.’
No prizes for guessing which one of us isn’t on it.
‘Do I really need to?’ Camilla whines. ‘Look – it looks fine.’
‘Then it’s fine to get on it,’ Ozzy says, his patience a little thinner than usual.
‘We’ll make room,’ Lockie tells her. ‘Cleo, move up to me.’
He opens up his arms so I can back into him, almost. Then he wraps them around me.
‘Fine, fine,’ Camilla says. ‘But if I fall in, I will kill you all.’
Not an overreaction at all. And speaking of overreactions…
‘Lockie,’ Ozzy says once we’re back on dry land. ‘Can I pull you for a chat?’
‘Uh-oh,’ Honey whispers to me. ‘Drama tiiime.’
‘Sure, mate,’ Lockie replies.
Lockie flashes me a wink, then follows Ozzy toward the firepit. I try to focus on my conversation with Honey, which is now about whether or not the island has materials for a pillow fight, but I can’t. I’m trying to read their body language.
‘I thought they’d be fighting over me, you know,’ she says, following my gaze. ‘Disappointing, really.’
‘Oh, they are not fighting over me,’ I insist.
‘Please,’ Camilla says with a huff. ‘They’re more likely to be fighting over airtime.’
Charmed.
Ozzy’s body language is pure tension – tight shoulders, arms folded, and he’s clearly ranting. Lockie looks like he’s trying not to laugh, but his foot taps restlessly on the sand.
I can’t hear what’s said, but I can tell the tone. The clipped words, the defensive smirk, the final head shake. Then Lockie turns and walks back over, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who looked like they were having an argument – so presumably he won.
‘What was that about?’ I ask.
‘I’ve just been warned off “his girl”,’ he says with a smirk, wrapping the word ‘girl’ in air quotes. ‘He cited the bro code and everything.’
‘His girl?’ I reply. ‘What, me?’
