Chapter 22
Following a day of rock climbing, we join the crew at a fire-dancing show.
It’s another event Jamie organized for team bonding, and a cool way to enjoy more of what Fiji offers, not that I’d admit it to Jamie.
The Brody situation isn’t entirely her fault, but I can’t forgive her actions. At least not yet.
Nate and I sit on a beach towel, sipping blended tamarind and pineapple margaritas.
The arrangement is intimate despite the rest of the audience and Corbin’s camera panning over to us.
With no mics to catch our every word, we’ve been chatting about everything but the breakup. Still, it lurks behind every word.
Jamie set up her towel on the far side of our group, putting it nowhere near Nate.
I only catch her glancing over at “Brody” twice, so it seems like whatever Nate said to her made it clear nothing would happen between them.
She knows she doesn’t have a shot, yet yearns for one anyway. I can’t pretend I don’t understand.
The warm night air wraps around us as the rhythmic beat of the drums pulses through the ground.
The scent of the ocean mingles with the smoky aroma of the torches flickering in the breeze as the fire dancers begin their performance, twirling and spinning their bodies in perfect harmony with the flames.
I glance at Nate, feeling the heat of his body close to mine. How had I once been so wrong about him? I used to think he took nothing seriously, but the truth is he cares more deeply than I could’ve imagined. About me, his brother, his writing. Life.
A joke plays out on the sandy stage, and Nate’s laughter—smooth and welcoming—blends with the music, making my heart flutter. I shouldn’t be feeling anything for him, but there is a spark all the same. It’s undeniable, but I’m doing my damndest to try.
The dancers' flames blaze as they move faster to the beat, leaving glowing trails in their wake. I finish the remains of my margarita and lick salt from the rim, feeling alive in a way I haven’t in a long time.
It’s not just Nate I’m falling for in Fiji; it’s me. A version of myself who isn’t always sitting on the sidelines like I’ve been doing since Sarah’s death. I’m someone who can feel deeply, take risks, and embrace all life offers. Who can be enough for the right person.
So even when the dancers’ fire goes out and they announce intermission, I still feel heat.
As audience members move toward the restrooms and concession stands, Jamie appears next to us. I half expect her to mention the breakup (though she couldn’t possibly know about it) or at least try to hit on “Brody,” but she takes another route.
“Hey, Abigail. Can we talk for a minute?” Her arms twist behind her back as if she doesn’t know what to do with her hands. “In private?”
“Sure.” I glance at Nate, who shrugs. I follow Jamie to a section of unoccupied beach where we don’t have to shout to be heard over other audience members.
She clears her throat. “I want to apologize for…well, Brody told me you saw us the other night and?—”
I hold a hand up to interrupt her and then cross my arms when she stops mid-sentence.
Brody and I may have broken up, and I’d already forgiven Nate for what transpired that night, but it doesn’t give Jamie an automatic pass for her behavior.
She was, after all, the one who made moves on Nate.
“Are you apologizing for kissing my boyfriend or for getting caught?”
Jamie’s eyes widen, and her words come out in a rush. “For doing it in the first place! I was totally out of line.”
“Yes, you were.” My arms loosen but remain crossed. She already knows the kiss was wrong, and even though Brody and I are over, I need to know the rest of the story. The parts he didn’t tell me. “Why’d you do it? What’s the deal with you and Brody?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
I open my mouth to protest, of course he did, but I want to hear your side, but she talks again right away.
“Makes sense, I suppose. Brody and I dated for a bit during season two. So, about a year ago. Dating probably isn’t the right word. We were rather casual, as relationships with Brody often are. No offense! I mean, before you.”
“I get it. He used to be a playboy.” Or a fuckboy, as Corina wouldn’t hesitate to put it. “But he’s not anymore.” At least not with me—as far as I know.
“I know he’s not. I can see it in the way he looks at you.
The way he seems to come to life around you.
The entire time we were hooking up, I kept hoping things would turn into something more.
Like with one more night, I could change him.
Naturally, that didn’t work. He pulled away, started messing around with someone else when he got back home, and here we are. ”
I feel for Jamie. I know what it’s like to want to change someone, to want to be enough for someone else, and always falling short of expectations. But her take doesn’t explain this trip.
“If it ended with season two, why are you still going after him?” Now that he has an actual girlfriend, or used to, at least.
“I guess I thought if he was open to serious relationships, he might want one with me. Like he just had his own stuff to figure out, and then history or the show or the universe was going to bring him back to me when he was finally ready. Stupid, huh?”
She sniffs, and my arms drop along with my heart. “Jamie?—”
She waves for me to stop, then runs a finger under her eyes as if catching tears. “I know he’s with you. I can’t keep chasing after him, hoping his feelings will change. He’s taken.”
“Yes, and you should be with someone who doesn’t make you chase them or second-guess your value. You deserve better.”
We all do.
Jamie pulls back at my words, and I’m just as surprised.
“Even after what I did to you?”
“You didn’t do it to me; you did it despite me. Am I thrilled about it? No. But do I get it?” I think back to all the times I had felt like a second choice to Sarah. A lesser option; a backup plan at best, like with Alex Chompin. “More than I’d care to admit.”
She stares at me, then seems to find the words for what she wants to say next.
“If it makes it any better, never once has he looked at me the way I’ve seen him look at you on this trip. He’s a different person around you.”
My stomach flips even though she isn’t actually suggesting Fiji-Brody isn’t Brody-Brody.
Jamie pops a shoulder as if what she’s saying isn’t ripping her heart out. “Brody cut things off right away this time around and said he only has feelings for you.”
“He said that?” My heart flutters, though it has no business doing so.
“Of course. It was stupid of me to impede. He’s on a dream shoot with his girlfriend! But I fell so hard and fast for him, and part of me always wondered how that was possible if we weren’t meant to be. Ridiculous, huh?”
“No, not ridiculous.” Brody and I may have fallen together more slowly, building a relationship on our shared interest in his brand, but what Jamie’s describing sounds all too familiar.
“I had to try getting him back in case he was the one. I couldn’t just let him go.”
I reach over and give her arm a squeeze of support, which is weird for us both given how this trip has gone.
But I understand her pain, and her rejection didn’t come from Brody, who I’m certain would never have drawn a boundary as clear as Nate had.
Brody’s singleness would become public after Fiji, so Jamie could shoot her shot again next season.
If there is a season after this.
“I should go,” Jamie says, wiping her eyes again. “My makeup is all over the place, and you and Brody don’t need me hovering all night.”
“Don’t leave on our account.”
“I should save face while I still can. Please don’t think less of me or the show because of this.”
There she goes, prioritizing the show like Brody. “It’s strange to admit, but I think more highly of you after tonight.”
There’s a brief light behind her brown eyes, followed by a gloss suggesting a fresh batch of tears forming. She gives me a hurried, tight-lipped smile and heads back toward the resort.
“What was that about?” Nate asks when I perch on the towel next to him, drawing my knees up like his. “Did Jamie leave?”
“She told me her side of the story and is ready to call it a night.”
“The story of her and Brody?”
I nod. “You too, by default.”
“Ah.”
“She said you cut things off right away and told her you only have feelings for me.” The last part is softer, as if I’m afraid he wasn’t just playing his part.
Or, worse yet, that he was.
Nate’s body tenses against mine. “I did.”
I push my luck. “She said Brody has never looked at her the way he’s looked at me on this trip.
” I shift closer to Nate on the towel. We aren’t touching, but I can practically feel the buzz of energy coming off him, feeding mine.
“Like you’re an entirely different person around me.
Maybe you’re not as good at acting as you thought? ”
Nate inhales sharply. On an exhale, he says, “I’m really not.”
His leg falls against mine, heat radiating where our knees touch. When he looks at me, I can see the unspoken things between us—all the questions, the confusion, the hope.
The sound of drums starting up competes with the rapid thumping of my heart as Nate reaches for my hand. There’s no mistaking this as a gesture for the show or superb acting because no one else can see as clearly as I can what’s happening, even when the dancers light their torches.
He intertwines our fingers, giving my hand a squeeze as if to say he’s right where I am and nothing else matters.
I take a deep breath and squeeze back because I’m right here, too.
But when dancing with fire, it’s only a matter of time before someone gets burned.