Tamsyn had expected a storm. Which was why she’d been entirely surprised when The Sending had gone exactly according to plan. Janelle and Frankie had ended up at the bottom, and after the re-vote, Vivian had bid Janelle goodbye. The camp had seemed quietly relieved. Except, of course, for Frankie, who couldn’t participate in any future reward challenges and was left as vulnerable as a soap bubble in a breeze until the next Sending.
Apparently, many of the other contestants had grown weary of Janelle’s constant complaining about the bugs at camp. This wasOutlast Herin the Australian Outback; of course, there were going to be bugs around.
Once everyone had gotten back to camp last night, Abigail had tended to the fire and said, “I literally only wrote her name down because I was getting sick and tired of scooping up every beetle and cricket and escorting them half a mile away where she couldn’t possibly see them, let alone be reminded of them.” Then she had rolled her eyes. “How did she get that far in Madagascar? Don’t they have hissing cockroaches?”
Tamsyn, on the other hand, hadn’t really noticed Janelle’s bug tantrums. Not really. She’d only gone along with voting her off because it had been best for the Red Gum Rebels and also, because frankly, she’d been too busy nurturing her friendship with Isla. Before The Sending, she’d even braided Isla’s hair like they were twelve-year-olds at summer camp.
The whole thing had been quite distracting. Her fingers had lingered at the nape of Isla’s neck for a second too long, andshe could’ve sworn goosebumps had erupted along Isla’s skin. Not that she had time to check because Isla had basically moved away from her then.
Still, the memory made Tamsyn shiver even though it was a pleasant seventy degrees outside. The wind that had howled earlier this evening had stopped, and the stars were out. Tamsyn could see them glittering across the sky from where she was wedged in between Petra and Barra.
Everyone was asleep. Everyone except for Tamsyn, who, despite being exhausted, was wide awake. She’d offered up her side of the mattress to Aggie, who had complained of a bad back the entire walk back to camp, and frankly, she wished she hadn’t. The ground was terribly hard. No wonder Aggie was suffering from back pain.
Tamsyn rolled onto her side and came face to face with Barra’s open-mouthed snore, which sounded like someone sawing through wood. Then she shifted and turned and tried to get comfortable, but that was not possible.
Tamsyn lay there for another ten seconds, maybe twenty, and stared intently at the dim outline of the shelter roof before giving up and shuffling out of the shelter. She strolled toward the creek, her body finding the path automatically. Once she got to the water, she lowered herself onto the packed dirt and flattened her bare toes against the cool earth. Then she circled her arms around her bent knees and tipped her head back. Out here, the sky didn’t just sparkle; it spilled like diamonds falling out of a treasure chest.
There was a sudden creak.
“It’s just me,” Isla whispered as she plonked herself down beside Tamsyn. She sat close. Too close. Close enough that Tamsyn could feel the warmth of Isla’s shoulder like she was a human space heater. “I saw you sneaking out of the shelter.”
“I wasn’t sneaking,” Tamsyn replied.
“Escaping then,” Isla corrected, smiling.
Even in the thin wash of moonlight, Tamsyn was painfully aware of Isla’s full and soft-looking lips. An image of a ripe plum split open at the seam swooped into her mind so clearly that her stomach flipped. Then she realized a friend was absolutely not supposed to be comparing another friend’s lips to juicy fruit. In fact, a friend probably shouldn’t be looking at her lips at all.
“I miss the teepee,” Tamsyn said, dragging her gaze forward. The creek moved in slow, glassy ribbons under the moonlight. Tamsyn considered dipping her toes, but nothing was tantalizing about wet, dirt-covered feet in the shelter. “I hope Aggie will let me have my side of the mattress back tomorrow night.”
Isla laughed and then, just as quickly, clamped her hand over her mouth. Tamsyn would be surprised to think anyone could hear Isla’s laughter over Barra’s chainsaw snores.
“I don’t know why I thought you’d be good at the whole roughing it thing,” Isla said.
“It’s the cowboy boots,” Tamsyn replied. “They create false expectations.” Then she nudged a small stone loose with the tip of her shoe and watched it tumble toward the water. “I know I shouldn’t complain. I’ve slept on the ground plenty of times. I’m a seasoned ground sleeper.”
Isla frowned, and Tamsyn chuckled softly.
“I’ve done a lot of multi-day hikes,” Tamsyn explained. “The longer, the better. There’s just something about walking all day until your legs feel like they’re not yours anymore and falling asleep the second your head hits your tiny blow-up mattress. Kind of like after a challenge day.”
“So you’ve done the PCT?” Isla asked, stretching her legs straight and folding over them until her fingers hooked easily around her toes. Which surprised Tamsyn. Not the part about Isla’s flexibility. But the part where Isla had just mentioned oneof the greatest ultra-distance hikes in the world. Tamsyn didn’t even realize she was frowning until Isla said, “The Pacific Crest Trail. It’s a 2650-mile hike from—”
“I know what it is,” Tamsyn interrupted, and then nearly asked Isla how she knew what it was, but then stopped herself. Isla was a model, yes, but that didn’t make her two-dimensional. She had layers, many of them by the looks of things. And interests beyond the runway. Though Tamsyn wasn’t going to lie, she’d expected those interests to be matcha tea and reformer Pilates, and an expensive skincare routine she narrated on social media. Not snowpack levels in the Sierra and desert water caches.
“Well, I’ve been dying to hike it for years,” Isla said, completely unaware that Tamsyn had just judged her like the cover of a book. “Northbound. From Mexico to Canada. It usually takes about five months, and that’s if you’re putting in decent mileage every day. I just haven’t managed to get a gap that long in my work schedule.”
“Very few people do,” Tamsyn said. Even as a teacher, it wasn’t exactly achievable. Yes, she technically had the long summer break everyone romanticized, and yes, she probably could hike it in three months if she pushed twenty-five, maybe thirty miles a day. But that wouldn’t be enjoyable at all.
“Maybe we should walk it together,” Isla said. “Two years from now, April 15th, we can meet at the southern terminus at Campo. We can get through the desert before it’s unbearably hot and hit the Sierra after the snow starts melting. Then we’ll go into Oregon by late July, through the Cascades, and reach Washington by early September. Three or so weeks later we’ll get to Manning Park.”
Tamsyn couldn’t believe her ears. Five days ago Isla had flat-out lied about them hooking up and even pretended she didn’t know Tamsyn. And now she was inviting her along fora five-month hike that would require them to spend every day together, sweaty and sunburnt, rationing snacks and arguing over mileage while they filtered questionable water from questionable sources. Which, technically, they were already doing now. But still, five months was a lifetime. So too was two years from now. Maybe this friendship wouldn’t even be a friendship then. Maybe they’d lose touch after the show and Isla would always just be the hookup Tamsyn had, turned friend until the show ended, and—this was hopeful—Tamsyn had won the title ofUltimate Outlast Her.
Tamsyn blinked. “Did you really just invite me along for a hike two years from now?”
Isla’s cheeks went pink. Or at least pink-adjacent in the moonlight.
“No,” Isla said, looking entirely flabbergasted. “Of course not. I was just joking.”
“Joking?” Tamsyn asked, raising an eyebrow.
