Chapter 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.’
It goes against every survival instinct I have but I step into his palms and let him boost me up toward the terrace above us. I scramble over, then lean back and help to pull him up – not that he needs my help.
Lockie lands beside me, less graceful than he probably intended, and we both burst out laughing.
‘Nine out of ten,’ I tell him. ‘The dismount let you down.’
‘Surely I get bonus points for lifting you up in one piece,’ he replies.
I roll onto my hands and knees and stand up. This building gets reconfigured each year, so we could be anywhere. Hopefully it’s the room where they keep the biscuits.
‘Oh my God.’ I twirl on the spot. ‘We’re on the private terrace. The luxury suite terrace.’
He nods, proud of himself.
‘Ta-da!’
‘If the cameras were still rolling, this would be the part where we get a dramatic close-up and romantic music,’ I point out.
He smiles softly as he approaches me.
‘Music or not, it’s pretty romantic,’ he says. ‘Plus, we don’t need music and a montage to dance.’
Before I can reply, he takes my hand and pulls me gently into the middle of the terrace. His other hand finds my waist.
‘Really?’ I laugh in disbelief.
‘Just dance with me,’ he replies.
So I do. We sway, slowly, my arms around his neck, his hands on my hips.
The breeze blows through my hair, keeping me cool, and honestly, I don’t think the moment could get any more perfect…
until Lockie starts singing ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ by Elvis Presley – our song – although his impression is terrible.
I snort, bury my face in his shoulder, helpless with laughter.
‘No one would ever get clearance to air that,’ I point out.
‘Thank you – thank you very much,’ he jokes.
He’s singing louder now – well, it’s not like anyone is going to hear, is it? Somewhere between him dipping me and the fits of giggles, I feel myself melting into his arms. I literally cannot help falling for this man; the song is hypnotising me.
‘So, can we get inside?’ I ask, remembering why we’re here. ‘Do they have supplies? A radio?’
‘We can’t actually get inside,’ he says. ‘However… they must have been in the middle of setting up, because there is one thing that they must have accidentally left outside…’
‘Oh?’
Lockie pushes the box towards me.
I plonk down next to it. Lockie joins me, to watch the unboxing.
‘Is it life-saving supplies?’ I ask.
‘Erm, not exactly life-saving,’ he replies. ‘More like… morale-boosting.’
I peep inside and start laughing. It’s the box we opened back in London. The adults-only box of promotional stuff sent to us to promote on the show.
I pull out the giant dildo and cradle it to my chest.
‘My emotional support dildo,’ I coo.
‘See, there’s that smile,’ he says with a laugh. ‘That thing will outlive us all.’
‘Aww, I hope so,’ I joke.
I dig a little deeper in the box.
‘Ooh, coconut-flavoured lubricant,’ I say, reading the bottle. ‘Why does it have to be coconut? We have loads of coconuts here. Why couldn’t it be pizza flavour?’
‘I don’t think there’s much – if any – call for pizza-flavoured lube,’ he replies.
‘Erm, did you not just hear me request it?’ I remind him.
We both stare at the bottle.
‘Are you thinking about trying it?’ I ask him.
He looks at me, his eyes wide.
‘Oh, God, not… sorry – I mean tasting it,’ I babble.
‘I will if you will,’ he replies.
We unscrew the cap and both dab the tiniest bit onto our fingers. Oh, it doesn’t smell good at all.
‘To island life,’ I say, raising my finger like it’s a glass of champagne.
‘To island life,’ he replies.
We clink our fingers then suck them and…
‘Oh, God,’ I blurt.
‘Not nice,’ he says. ‘Not nice at all.’
‘Yeah, I’ll stick to real coconuts, I think,’ I say, putting the bottle back in the box.
‘Maybe pizza flavour really would have been better,’ he replies.
We lie back on the deck, close enough that our arms are touching, and look up at the stars. There are a hundred things I could say – most of them stupid, some of them brave. Things I don’t have the coconuts to say.
He sighs.
‘I’m glad we got stuck together, you know,’ he says softly.
I glance at him. He looks like he means it.
‘Yeah,’ I admit. ‘Me too – I would have preferred it to be on the luxury yacht, but I’ll take what I can get.’
Lockie just laughs.
A beat passes. Then another.
‘You know,’ I whisper, ‘if this were televised, this would be the part where you kiss me.’
‘Is that so?’ he replies.
‘Yep,’ I say, rolling onto my side, propping myself up on my arm.
Maybe I’m drunk. Maybe it’s because we feel doomed. Maybe it’s because we kissed in the game, but suddenly all I can think about is kissing him again. Just… because. Because why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t we just do what feels right when the world has gone to shit?
I inch a little closer, ever so slowly, giving him the chance to meet me in the middle.
But instead of closing the gap, he just keeps looking up at the stars. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t do anything except keep staring upward.
I laugh, like maybe he’s doing a bit, but… nope. Nothing.
Okay then.
Maybe I imagined it. Maybe the kiss in the game was just a kiss in the game, and it would have been the same for him whether it was me, Honey, Camilla – or even Ozzy.
I flop back onto my back and glare at the sky too. What’s so special up there, that’s better than a kiss with me, eh? What question is he looking for the answer for?
I’ve got one of my own – an answer, that is. I now know for sure that I will never, ever, ever understand this man.