“I could never forget you,” Tamsyn whispered. It was the whole truth.
Isla opened her mouth, but then closed it again.
Was Tamsyn just imagining it, or was that same current from that night humming faintly between them again? They were alone. The Milky Way was stretched overhead in a hazy ribbon of light. There was something romantic about it all. Which was why Tamsyn considered leaning in and closing the gap between their mouths. Would that be insane? Or was it inevitable?
She’d spent entirely too much time thinking about Isla. About what had transpired in that powder room. About the way Isla had moaned into the small room. Tamsyn had daydreamed about that night for months. Even Instagram had been torturous. Tamsyn had spent several nights wondering if she should send Isla a friend request, only to back out. First, it felt desperate. Second, there was the possibility that Isla wouldn’t accept. Tamsyn’s heart could handle jumping out of a plane, but it couldn’t handle that level of rejection.
Tamsyn didn’t even realize she was leaning forward, head angling toward Isla to kiss her until Isla stepped back and gasped, “Are you seriously trying to kiss me?”
Tamsyn snapped her head away so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. Her cheeks filled with heat and color, and honestly, she would’ve welcomed a kangaroo charging throughMoon Pit like a wrecking ball. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, quietly, and completely embarrassed. “I read the moment wrong.”
“You think?” Isla said, looking flabbergasted.
As she should. Tamsyn was such an idiot. They’d just roughly patched things up. This was not the right moment. What was she thinking?
“Well, in my defense, it worked the first time,” Tamsyn said, looking down at her feet. She couldn’t bring herself to catch Isla’s gaze.
“Well, it’s not going to work again,” Isla said, snappy as ever.
“Got it,” Tamsyn said, finally forcing herself to look up. Her father always used to say that if you’re going to spill a drink, you may as well raise the glass and call it a toast. Dignity was a choice. This felt like that kind of moment.
But when she did, she paused. Isla was smiling. Not fully. Just the smallest lift at the corners of her gorgeous mouth—a mouth she could be kissing right now if things had gone the other way—but before Tamsyn could properly register it, Isla turned on her heel and left.
When she got to a scrubby-looking bush about knee-high, she stopped and pointed toward a thick patch of spinifex. “I saw Barra do something questionable over there earlier. Best to avoid it.” Then she walked off into the darkness before Tamsyn could even say thank you.
Not that Tamsyn minded. She was still thinking about that almost smile.
Chapter Seven
Isla had promised herself she would play this season differently. Because it was different.
Season One had been sunlight ricocheting off jade water, palm trees swaying in the breeze, and rock pools acting like tiny mirrors reflecting the blue sky. Everywhere Isla had looked was paradise. But as gorgeous as the surroundings were, she’d been entirely obsessed with winning. It wasn’t really about the title or even the million-dollar prize, though that would’ve been nice. Mostly, she wanted to one-up Mallory, who had made partner at Whitmore & Carrington the week before Isla was scheduled to fly out to the Philippines. Her parents, grandparents, Aunt Lindy, and Uncle Jax had all beamed over Mallory’s promotion, calling it the greatest prestige the family had ever seen. Isla had, of course, reminded everyone that a beauty editorial she’d shot in Paris had been printed inVogue. But no one had cared. Her mother had said, “We don’t read magazines anymore. Everything these days is online, dear.”
To which Isla had replied, “You literally still getTimemagazine delivered every two weeks.”
And her dad had added, “Your sister studied law for seven years at Harvard University. That’s real work. You walk around in nice clothes and look at a camera.”
Isla had offered a tight and overly polite smile at the time and pretended they hadn’t staked her heart with a butter knife. Then she’d promised herself she would do anything and everything to win. All she could think about was holding up the title ofUltimate Outlast Herlike a trophy in front of herfamily, who seemed to make it their mission to undervalue her accomplishments. And she had plenty of accomplishments.
But this season was different.
With the dusty spinifex scraping her shins, the twisted red gums, sun-baked rocks, and ochre mountain ranges, all Isla cared about was redemption. The chance to prove to others she hadn’t deserved to go home the last time. And more importantly, if not the most important, the chance to prove to herself that she didn’t need to measure her worth against Mallory. Mallory could shove her partner status and family approval up her ass. In fact, they could all fuck themselves. Isla Stone was playing for herself this time.
“We’ve got mail,” Kendall called, jogging into camp with Abigail by her side. She brandished a worn leather pouch in the air and stopped when she reached the smoldering fire pit.
Everyone automatically huddled around her.
Isla spotted Tamsyn standing behind Petra. Her braids were held together by a bandana, with a few rogue strands collapsed onto her shoulders. She wore a faded raspberry pink T-shirt with the Canadian Rocky Mountains printed on the front. Her gaze was on Kendall’s hands and not on Isla. Why would it be? It wasn’t like Tamsyn had tried to kiss her last night. Oh wait. She had. Tamsyn hadn’t just leaned in; she’d puckered her lips. Isla’s chest had felt ablaze in that moment. But thankfully she’d shut it down before Tamsyn could close the gap. Before their lips could meet. Before Isla could lean into that kiss, as she had six months ago when she allowed Tamsyn to press her gorgeous face between her bare legs in one colossal, regrettable mistake.
Isla had then headed back to camp, slipped in between Kendall, who whistled and snored, and Frankie, who slept on her back like a corpse at a wake. She’d closed her eyes and welcomed sleep, but all she’d really welcomed were vivid images of Tamsyn’s face between her thighs.
“What does it say?” Janelle asked, dragging Isla’s attention back to the present.
Kendall cleared her throat and opened the mail. “Outlast Hercontestants, you are two days in. The dust has settled, but the game has not. Today, teamwork will determine who earns comfort and who returns empty-handed.”
“That has to mean food,” Barra said, fluffing the collar of her Hawaiian shirt that looked like it belonged on the fat-bellied body of a seventy-year-old man on a cruise ship. “I’ve been dreaming of an ice-cold beer.” She made a moaning noise that sent a chill up Isla’s spine. “And an Angus beef burger with aged cheddar and tomato relish. Leave the ketchup and lettuce.”
“It’s only been two days,” Nadine said, frowning. She was short and petite and wore a fuchsia pink sports bra with matching bicycle tights. Her body looked like the poster child for a Pilates studio—thin but politely muscled. “You can’t seriously be starving.”
