At one point Isla’s legs had sunk so suddenly that the mud had swallowed her right sneaker with a greedy slurp. Then she’d spent valuable time wrestling her sneaker out from the sludge while Tamsyn had shouted, “LEAVE IT! LEAVE IT!” There was no way in hell Isla was going to leave her lovely Nike Pegasus to fossilize in a swamp. Then she’d only have her VEJA sneakers left, and they weren’t nearly as comfortable as her Nikes for challenges.
In the end, Petra and Nadine had won the reward. The reward was a hot-air balloon flight over Wilpena Pound, followed by a private lunch at Rawnsley Park Station where they would feast on grilled lamb skewers, charred corn with lime butter, pumpkin risotto, and a panna cotta for dessert.
Isla’s mouth had watered.
Then Vivian had announced they could pick two other pairs to join them. Isla had felt a brush of hope across her shoulders. But then they’d chosen Dominique and Barra and Aggie and Josie. And that hope turned into a blunt stab in her back.
Petra hadn’t even glanced her way before choosing. She didn’t even give her a flicker of acknowledgement. Nadine either. Which meant the two of them were either very comfortable with their Red Gum Rebel alliance, or they were venturing elsewhere for the next Sending votes.
“I’m going to soak myself in the creek,” Kendall said as soon as they’d arrived back at camp. She peeled her mud-stiff shirt over her head and winced when some wet mud stuck to her forehead.
“Me too,” Frankie said, flicking a scrap off her nose. Though frankly, she had a lot more to worry about than some speck on her face. Her entire body was smeared with mud, coated from neck to ankle as if she’d paid good money for one of those luxury mineral spa treatments. Except this version had dried into a tight, cracking shell. When she bent her elbow, a fissure split down her forearm. And she wasn’t the only one who had face-planted into the trench. Tamsyn had gone down hard, palms first, then cheek, sliding a good few inches forward before she’d scrambled back up again.
“I’ll meet you in the creek in a minute,” Isla said. She only had muddy legs. “I want to drop my bag off and call dibs on a sleeping spot for tonight. I know it won’t make much of a difference, but I can’t sleep next to Barra again. She’s like a hammer drill in my ear.”
Tamsyn laughed, which then softened into a smile as their eyes met.
Isla felt a tug beneath her belly button. She remembered their kiss last night and how it had turned rocket-fuel hot withtheir hands swiping at each other’s bodies. But then a tree limb had cracked, and they’d both jerked back so fast, Isla’s foot had nearly caught on a spinifex. They’d retreated back to camp after that.
There was a splash.
Their eye contact broke just as Kendall launched herself backward into the deepest part of the creek. She resurfaced a few seconds later and slicked her hair back like a mermaid.
Isla chuckled and shook her head. The winners may have a hot-air balloon ride and a scrumptious-sounding feast to look forward to, but at least they had the creek.
Feeling less pissed off at Petra and Nadine, she headed toward the shelter. Once she got there, she dropped her pack to the ground and was just about to rip her top off and hang it on the branch of a nearby tree when she noticed something. It was definitely something that didn’t belong and something that hadn’t been there earlier.
Half-buried at the edge of the shelter, wedged awkwardly beneath a scatter of peeling bark and curled gum leaves, was a round white shape. It was something smooth and ceramic.
Isla stilled and then blinked. For a second, she wondered if the heat was finally turning her loopy. But in a game like this, there was very little time to pause and reflect. So, she snapped her head back to where the others were still splashing in the creek, and when she was certain no one was looking, she dropped to her knees and crawled into the shelter. Seconds later, she was nudging away flakes of bark and grit with her fingertips. “Wait,” she muttered under her breath. “Is that...”
No fricken way. It was a cookie jar. A typical grandma’s cookie jar, round bellied with a faded blue flower painted along the rim. Isla’s pulse went into full feral mode. She lifted the lid the tiniest fraction, and immediately the sweet, buttery aroma of chocolate chip cookies hit her nose.
Isla moaned.
Then, without thinking—there wasn’t a single thought in her head apart from biting into a thick chunk of goodness—she pulled out what could be described as the perfect cookie. It was golden brown, thick, slightly uneven, with glossy dark chocolate chunks that looked like they’d just oozed from the oven.
Again, she snapped her head back toward the creek. As far as she could tell, no one had noticed her yet. Which was fantastic, really, because Isla had no intention of sharing. None. Zilch. Nada. Well, she would tell Tamsyn about it later. Maybe they could sneak off to the clearing near Moon Pit tonight and feast on the cookies. Her mouth watered at the thought. But could she really wait until tonight to taste one?
No. Of course she couldn’t.
She snuck out a cookie and shoved the entire thing into her mouth. It was warm and chewy, the melting chocolate chunks sliding across her tongue, the edges perfectly crisp to crack against her teeth. She closed her eyes and moaned softly, just for a quick second, and then snapped the lid back on before stuffing the jar under her backpack. Her heart was racing as she tucked it under her jacket so no one would see it.
“What are you doing?”
Isla yelped so violently she nearly hit her head on the shelter pole. “What the hell!”
Her heart ricocheted into her throat. She whipped around while one hand strangled the drawstrings of her bag and the other tried to flatten the very obvious, very incriminating lump that was the cookie jar. For one catastrophic split second, she imagined Frankie or Kendall catching her. How utterly embarrassing that would be, especially with thousands of viewers watching. The camera crew was just a few feet away, lenses trained on her.
Thankfully, it was just Tamsyn.
She stood at the edge of the shelter with remnants of red earth clinging to her hairline. Creek water beaded along her chest and got caught in the hollow of her throat. Her sports bra dripped water down her stomach.
Isla exhaled so hard that her entire body wobbled. “It’s just you,” she muttered, pressing her hand to her sternum like she wanted to keep her heart from escaping her chest cavity. “I almost thought it was Kendall. She never makes a sound when she walks up to someone.”
“What’s going on?” Tamsyn asked, her eyes dropping to the bag. “I thought you were meeting us in the creek?” She frowned and leaned forward. “Are those crumbs on your lips?”
Isla quickly swiped the back of her hand across her lips. “Yes,” she said, because she had no reason to lie to Tamsyn, nor did she want to. Not after last night. Not only were they team members—her ride or die—but they were something else too. They were something more than just friends, though Isla wasn’t quite sure what term to use to describe that something. Friends with benefits? Situationship?
