Page 7 of Unfinished Desire
Tamsyn couldn’t be happier. So happy that once Vivian had shown them off and pointed in the direction of their awaiting camp, Tamsyn had walked to Isla’s side and whispered in her ear, “I know you remember me. And I don’t know why you’re acting like you don’t. It was six months ago. That isn’t even a long time, and unless you do that sort of thing often, and something tells me you don’t, there’s no way you can forget an inter—”
“Shh,” Isla interrupted, raising her hand as if she was going to cover Tamsyn’s mouth and muffle her words, which Tamsyn kind of wished she’d do because maybe that would at least jog a memory. A memory of Isla moaning so loudly that Tamsyn had to reach her hand up to Isla’s mouth to keep her voice from slipping out of the room. “Can you please just keep your voice down?”
“I’m not going to keep quiet. Not until you admit that you know who I am and that you remember what we did.” Tamsyn said.
“Fine,” Isla spluttered, looking everywhere but at Tamsyn. Which Tamsyn took as a major symptom of guilt. “I remember who you are. I remember everything about that night, all right? Is that what you want to hear?”
But Tamsyn didn’t get the chance to say yes, and also ask why the hell she thought she could lie about it, because suddenly Petra and Nadine were bumping shoulders with them.
“If you let us crash in that teepee, at some point, we’ll vote with you,” Petra said, winking. For the first time since spotting Isla, Tamsyn remembered why they were here at all... to become theUltimate Outlast Her.
“We’ll think about it.”
Chapter Five
Isla woke up feeling exhausted. Her eyelids were slow and heavy, as if they’d gained weight overnight. Her body was stiff and over-aware. And despite the thick duvet, the soft mattress and pillows so plump her head sank into them like wet sand, she hadn’t been able to get a decent night’s sleep. At all. It wasn’t comfort that was the problem, but rather the proximity to Tamsyn that had kept her awake most of the night.
Every time Tamsyn shifted, stirred, or even breathed, Isla had felt a nudge against her ribs. A nudge that had turned into a full-body spasm when Tamsyn had stretched across the mattress sometime in the early hours and flung an arm unconsciously over Isla’s waist. Isla had clamped her mouth with her hand because, seriously, her first response was to yell. And only when she had been sure she wasn’t going to make a peep, she pinched the duvet between two fingers and slid herself sideways until Tamsyn’s arm had slipped free and dropped back onto the mattress. Isla had also considered sleeping outside on the dirt. Although red dust and scorpions weren’t exactly high on her list of things she wanted on her body. So instead, she’d lain there, at the very edge of the mattress. Awake, counting Tamsyn’s breaths.
Isla yawned and stared at the dull beige glow of the teepee ceiling. Then she glanced sideways. Tamsyn was still sleeping. Her black braids were spread across the pillow.
Without making a sound, Isla slipped out of the teepee and headed straight for the creek at the edge of the camp. The sky was a pale blue, the ground dusty and rust-colored and scatteredwith flat shale that shifted if you stepped wrong. Clumps of spinifex dotted the clearing like little explosions of green. A few river red gums leaned over the creek, their pale trunks peeling in long ribbons that curled onto the ground. One massive ghost gum stood just off the center of the camp, and further back were scraggly white cypress pines.
Isla wasn’t much of a camper, and Season One ofOutlast Herfelt more like Tom Hanks lost on a beautiful island, but this, she decided, would do. With the rest of the contestants still asleep, the creek murmuring quietly, and the ranges glowing red, Isla could understand why people romanticized survival shows. There was something peaceful about them.
“What are you doing?” said a voice nearby.
Isla snapped her head toward the creek to see Petra already in the water. Isla couldn’t tell whether she was sitting or standing chest-deep in the water. “Morning,” she said.
“Morning,” Petra echoed and scooped water onto her already sunburnt shoulders.
Isla walked to the water’s edge and crouched down. “I guess this will be my new morning skin routine,” she said, dipping her hands in and bringing cool water to her face. She dabbed her cheeks and forehead. “How did you sleep?”
Petra shrugged. “Not bad,” she said, then stared over Isla’s shoulder toward the makeshift shelter everyone had rushed to construct yesterday before the sun went down. It was a low lean-to wedged between two river gum trees. Dominique had lined the ground with flattened cardboard-like sheets of eucalyptus bark and a scattering of leaves that looked comfortable only in theory. “Though, to be honest, I think it’s worse sleeping on hard ground the second time around. Everything hurt less the first time.”
Isla nodded. The first night on that island in the Philippines had felt euphoric. A spider could’ve crawled over her face, andshe would’ve been fine. She’d even pinched herself ten times before she finally believed it wasn’t a dream. Only after a week of rice and beans and hard bamboo had she felt the deep, bone-level exhaustion settle in.
“How was sleeping in luxury?” Petra asked, tilting her head toward the teepee which sat just a few feet away from the main shelter. The flaps were still closed. Tamsyn was still asleep.
“Good,” Isla lied and considered offering her spot in the bed to Petra for tonight, but as easy as that sounded, it wasn’t. In a game likeOutlast Her, every single decision came with a consequence. “Fine. Tamsyn snores.” It was a stretch. Tamsyn breathed loudly at best. But lying felt better than reliving the nightmare of last night. Tamsyn had tried to cuddle her. The audacity.
“So do Barra and Aggie,” Petra said, half laughing, half fake-crying. “Why do you think I’m out here? I’ve been up since before dawn. Barra sounds like a train.” She said it so loudly that Isla was surprised her voice hadn’t jostled anyone awake.
Isla snuck a glance back, but nope. Everyone was still asleep. Tamsyn included.
Petra waded a little deeper into the creek and then let herself sink under. Isla watched the surface ripple and then smooth where she had been. Isla counted a second, then two, before Petra popped back up. “So refreshing,” she said, slicking her hair away from her face.
It did look refreshing. Enough for Isla to briefly consider slipping out of her pale-yellow matching pajama set with daisies embroidered onto the hem and dipping in the water. It was still early, yet the dry morning heat was already settling in. Unfortunately, Isla was only wearing bikini bottoms, and despite Petra being brave enough to swim without a top, Isla didn’t feel like getting caught skinny-dipping by the camera crew. Her breasts had been on display enough times during her career asa model. So, she backed up a few steps and sat on dry ground. Fine, rust-colored dust clung instantly to her damp ankles and turned the water droplets into tiny streaks of mud.
The Flinders Ranges were beautiful, but honestly, Isla preferred soft sand to whatever red stuff this was. Sand at least pretended to be comfortable and didn’t stick to absolutely everything.
“What’s up with you and cowboy boots?” Petra asked, flinging her wet black hair into a bun above her head. She did it so quickly, so masterfully, Isla had barely blinked before Petra leaned back and floated. “I heard your little conversation yesterday.”
“Our conversation?” Isla asked, frowning. “What did you hear?” It didn’t actually matter what Petra had heard; it mattered what Isla was going to do about it. At some point, everyone was going to find out that Isla and Tamsyn had slept together, and that Isla had pretended it hadn’t happened, and worse, that she’d acted like she didn’t even know Tamsyn.
“Something about a night together.” Petra arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow, which Isla suspected had been laminated, only because Isla had hers done a week before she flew out to Australia, and she recognized the feathered, brushed-up shape. “Did you two hook up?”
Isla felt her cheeks heat up. She also felt a prickly sensation crawling up the back of her neck, not too different from the one that usually appeared right before a runway show. Petra’s question made her nervous. If Isla were honest and admitted to sleeping with Tamsyn, what would that mean for her game? If she confessed her mistake of pretending she didn’t know Tamsyn, would Petra think she was too devious to be in an alliance with, or would she find the whole thing amusing? But Isla didn’t have time to comb through her thoughts because suddenly, a noise sounded behind them. There wasan agonizingly long yawn that Isla knew belonged to Tamsyn without even looking back.
