Eventually Lockie gets dared to whisper something into my ear that would make me blush. He leans in, his breath hot against my skin, and says: ‘If we didn’t have an audience, that kiss wouldn’t have stopped there.’
My skin feels like it’s on fire.
‘Oh my God, what did you say?’ Honey squeaks. ‘It worked!’
‘I’ll never tell,’ Lockie says.
I don’t think I could if I wanted to.
Finally the game starts wrapping up. I think we’re all drunk, tired, and there’s something about when your stress levels dip, that makes you feel like you’re ready for bed.
When I sneak a glance at Lockie, he’s already looking at me, smiling like he always does, flashing his dimples, but something feels different this time. It feels dangerous but… I don’t know. Real? God, I hope it’s real. Or maybe it’s the rum, the isolation, the threat to our lives. That’s what I try to tell myself, but I know I’m lying.
Because I don’t just fancy him. I like him. And here, on this island, with no escape, and no cameras to keep me in check, I don’t know if it’s a terrible idea or a great one.
28
Rum-tinted glasses go a long way to making everything look just great. If you’re ever going to end up stranded in a potentially life-threatening situation, I highly recommend rum – although I’m sure there are exceptions to the rule, like if you’re the pilot of a crashing plane, or a doctor performing surgery. Maybe it’s not a good idea in any situation but ours.
The best thing to do on a deserted island late at night, when you’re drunk and have a sort of situationship with your colleague, is to stay in camp, sit still and wait for the rescue mission to turn up.
And yet… and yet… I find myself walking through the jungle with Lockie. He’s holding my hand, leading me somewhere – he says he’s got something to show me.
I catch my toe on a tree root or something and stumble forward. He turns around, his reflexes barely affected by the rum, and catches me.
‘So graceful,’ he teases.
‘Shut up,’ I reply, but I’m kinda drunk, so everything is funny.
‘We’re almost there,’ he tells me. ‘Can you stay upright just a little longer?’
‘Where are we even going?’ I ask, ignoring his sarcasm.
I try to peer ahead, but it’s dark and all the trees look like all the other trees.
‘Have you brought me out here to murder me?’ I ask plainly.
‘If I wanted you dead I’d just stop saving you,’ he replies. ‘We’re almost there.’
The jungle is dark and humid at night, and every noise sounds like the thing that’s going to kill me. I trip at least two or three more times before we reach our destination.
Lockie laughs every time.
‘You’re enjoying this,’ I accuse him as I stumble over a rock.
‘I just don’t understand how you’re falling over everything you can find,’ he says with a chuckle.
We finally reach the old production building, where we were earlier. He circles around the back as he drags me behind him.
‘We’re here!’ he announces proudly.
‘Yay!’ I cheer sarcastically.
‘Up you go then,’ he says, clasping his hands together to give me a leg-up.
‘You’re kidding,’ I reply.
‘I never kid,’ he says seriously. ‘Come on, up you pop.’
