Chapter Twenty-Three
Isla had never felt so much FOMO in her life.
Not even the time she’d missed the Versace couture show in Milan.
The one where she’d been booked to walk the closing look in a sculptural silver gown that looked like liquid metal poured over a human body.
She’d been twenty-two, feverish with some violent twenty-four-hour flu.
She had watched the shaky livestream clips from her hotel bed while the biggest opportunity of her career had happened without her.
This was somehow worse.
Because if it hadn’t been for that fall, she was pretty certain she and Tamsyn would’ve been in that final battle for the title of Ultimate Outlast Her.
“Shoot!” Nadine cried, smacking her thigh with her hand. “How did Barra drop that ball? Are her fingers made of butter? What the hell are you doi—”
“Wait,” Petra interrupted, leaning forward in suspense. “She’s got it again.”
“Shoot the fucking ball!”
Production had set up what they’d been calling the Final Circle for the last five seasons.
This time around, it took place on a lush grassy patch beneath a cluster of crooked gum trees, where the last six eliminated contestants watched the final challenge.
A large white screen had been stretched taut between two metal poles, and a projector hummed on a nearby folding table, throwing a bright image across the canvas.
On the projection, Aggie and Josie were battling it out against Dominique and Barra in the final challenge that would determine which pair became the last team standing.
“How on earth are Aggie and Josie leading this thing?” Petra gasped, completely astonished. “I mean, Aggie can’t throw to save her life. I watched her throw a stone into the creek once, and it literally landed at her feet.”
“There’s a million dollars on the line,” Kendall said around a mouthful of trail mix. “Amazing what a little financial motivation can do for your hand-eye coordination.”
Isla couldn’t believe it either. Though she wasn’t nearly as sour as Petra seemed to be.
Yes, a million dollars would’ve been nice.
Extremely nice. Life-altering nice. But Isla had walked away with something else—or more like someone else—and some might say love was the only prize that made life a little richer.
“Honestly, if Aggie and Josie win this, it might be the biggest plot twist of the entire season,” Isla said, shifting slightly where she sat on the blanket.
Her right leg was stretched awkwardly out in front of her, thanks to the walking boot strapped around her foot.
The plastic shell caught the sunlight every time she moved, and she didn’t even want to think about all the sweat currently marinating inside it.
Tamsyn sat beside her with one arm lazily draped over Isla’s shoulders like she worried Isla might fall over if left unattended.
Which, to be fair, wasn’t entirely impossible.
The pain meds made her loopy enough to be a fall risk.
This morning, however, she’d refused to take them.
She needed a clear head for the final challenge.
Unfortunately, that meant the broken fibula throbbed in dull pulses whenever she shifted too quickly.
She winced.
“Are you okay?” Tamsyn asked, looking at her with so much concern written all across her lovely face that Isla’s heart squeezed tight. “Is your leg sore? Maybe we should get some ice. The doctor said we should keep the swelling—”
“I’m fine,” Isla interrupted. “If I start screaming, then you can panic.”
Tamsyn looked unconvinced.
Isla kissed her on the cheek and hoped that might be enough to calm her down. “I’m fine,” she murmured softly against her skin. “I promise.”
“You two are so cute it’s actually disgusting,” Frankie announced from behind them. She flicked something over Isla’s shoulder. Isla glanced down and spotted a peanut land in the grass beside the blanket. She picked it up and tossed it straight back over her shoulder without looking.
A very satisfying “ow” followed. “You got my eye,” Frankie protested.
“Sorry,” Isla said sweetly, though she wasn’t sorry.
She glanced back at Frankie and winked, which had Frankie rolling with laughter.
Together, the six of them—Isla, Tamsyn, Kendall, Frankie, Petra, and Nadine—made up the Final Council.
This season, production had locked the council before the final challenge, which meant the six of them would decide which of the final pair deserved the title.
This would technically be Isla’s second time on the Final Council, and once again she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about the responsibility.
Her gaze drifted back to the screen.
The final challenge was taking place in a wide, slow-moving creek that cut through the valley.
Both teams had moments ago raced waist-deep in the water toward a floating platform tethered in the middle.
Six balls were locked inside the crate at the center of the platform, each secured with knots.
Each pair had to swim out, untie the knots, and retrieve the balls.
Then they had to climb onto a narrow wooden throwing platform and try to land each ball through a suspended metal hoop hanging several feet over the water.
If they missed, the ball would fall into the water, which meant swimming back out to get it before trying again.
On the screen, Barra hurled a ball toward the hoop. It clanged loudly off the metal rim and splashed straight into the water.
Petra and Kendall howled.
Then Frankie said, “Aggie and Josie have landed four balls already. They have two—”
“One for Barra!” Vivian’s voice burst through the speakers as the screen showed the ball dropping cleanly through the hoop. Then another ball. “And one for Dominique.”
“Now they’re neck and neck,” Petra announced, leaning so far forward she would surely tip over. “What a comeback.”
And it was. Everyone agreed. Which only made watching the challenge that much more nerve-wracking. Isla wasn’t going to lie; she hoped above all hope that Barra and Dominique would make it to the final. Call her biased, but Aggie’s attempt at blackmail had been the last straw.
Aggie bent low and squinted at the hoop.
Her ball sailed in a high arc. Too high.
It didn’t even touch the hoop before it splashed into the water.
Isla’s stomach did a tiny flip. And it flipped again when Barra grabbed a ball and swung her arm out.
But it landed short and instead bounced off the front of the rim.
“Shit,” Tamsyn muttered beside Isla. Her arm was no longer slung around Isla’s shoulders.
Instead, Tamsyn had her elbows pressing into her thighs and one hand clamped nervously over her mouth, like she might chew straight through her fingers if the challenge went on for much longer.
“Barra’s only got one ball left,” she muttered against her palm.
“And Dominique’s is in the water. Aggie and Josie each have two balls to throw. ”
Isla could barely watch. Let alone reassure Tamsyn. She couldn’t even fathom moving to press a quick kiss to the corner of Tamsyn’s mouth. In fact, she couldn’t move at all. This was more nerve-wracking than waiting for an email after a casting call.
Then Barra’s arm arced, and the ball flew through the air.
.. swish! It landed straight through the hoop.
Aggie and Josie scrambled to pick up their balls—they had two, one each—from the basket.
Aggie’s face was red with concentration.
But then Dominique was back on the platform.
Wow, how did she get there so fast? She grabbed the ball she’d just rescued from the water, and before Aggie or Josie could even think to get theirs in the air; she tossed hers toward the rim.
Clang. It hit, then teetered, then dropped straight through the hoop.
Silence fell over the grass patch. Even the lizard lurking near Tamsyn’s sandal paused as they waited for Vivian to announce the winners and end the challenge. Then the cameras cut to Vivian holding up an arm in that usual fashion.
“DOMINIQUE AND BARRA WIN!”
THE SENDING HAD NEVER looked this grand before.
Instead of the golden globes and sunlight filtering in through the trees, there were banks of bright studio lights flooding a much larger clearing.
A stone pathway, dusted free from red dirt, snaked through the space.
There were tall black speakers, a log bench where the Final Council sat, and the usual pedestal holding the cups. The two cups were plated with gold.
Dominique and Barra stood across from the Final Council cleaner than they had been in weeks.
Their hair was washed, their faces scrubbed clean, with just a touch of makeup to make them look more like themselves again.
Dominique wore a fitted navy tank with clean utility pants, her long hair loose over her shoulders, and Barra had traded her usual island-worn layers for a crisp ivory button-down with dark cargo pants.
Isla couldn’t help thinking they complemented each other perfectly, but then shot that thought down like a clay pigeon.
When Tamsyn had confided in Isla about Barra’s confession, she’d been shocked to her core.
But also not. It kind of made sense. The way Barra had stared at Dominique like she was the rarest bird ever spotted.
It was honestly a miracle Dominique hadn’t noticed.
“This is our fifth vote cast,” Vivian said, nodding toward Petra, who had just placed a stone in one of the two cups. She took her seat between Nadine and Frankie.
The six of them were sitting on a long log bench. A PA had taken Isla’s crutches because they were apparently an eyesore. So was wearing her boot, but no matter, Isla wore it like a battle scar.
Behind them, just beyond the halo of light, were Barra and Dominique’s friends and family. They all awaited eagerly and restlessly. Isla couldn’t blame them. She’d be nervous too.
“Isla,” Vivian said, nodding to Isla. The host was looking as gorgeous as usual in a midnight black jumpsuit with legs that skimmed the ground, and a plunging neckline softened by layered gold chains.
Her hair was blown out and glossy, and her cheekbones looked as if they had been chiseled from marble.
Earlier Isla had asked Vivian for her stylist’s contact details, which she’d happily given.
Isla had a little plan boiling in her head that would need a stylist, but that was a thought for another day. “It’s your time to vote.”
Isla was just about to click her fingers for her crutches when the same PA from before came sprinting out. He handed them over politely, like he was delivering a trophy.
“Thank you,” Isla said, already sliding her arms into place. Nearly a week into the injury and she was frighteningly competent on crutches. But even so, Tamsyn’s hand instinctively reached out, ready to steady her if needed.
Isla glanced back and winked.
Tamsyn smiled, and Isla’s legs turned to jelly.
Which, admittedly, was not ideal. She still had to hop her way toward the pedestal gleaming ahead.
But thankfully, she made it there without a hitch.
She exhaled and picked up the black stone.
The studio lights were so bright she could barely make out the face beyond.
In front of her, veiled by delicate clothes, rested two cups: one for Barra, one for Dominique.
Isla turned the stone over and over in her palm.
This decision wasn’t easy. Both of them were extraordinary.
Barra, with her barrel laugh that ricocheted across the desert, her dry sense of humor, and the way she belly-flopped into the creek every time.
Dominique, who was far more level-headed, kept them all from dying of boredom by retelling stories of her wild college days.
But Barra’s speech blew everyone out of the water, and Isla would be surprised if she didn’t get all the votes. She certainly got hers. Isla leaned forward and dropped her stone.
Once she got back to the log, Vivian took the final tally, slipped the results into a velvet pouch, and then stepped into the center of the lights.
“Season Five has given us alliances that shocked us, betrayals that broke hearts, challenges that pushed bodies beyond their limits.” She looked at Isla, and then down at her walking boot.
“And players who reminded us what resilience really looks like.” Then she swept her gaze across to Dominique and then to Barra.
“Tonight, one of you will become our Ultimate Outlast Her.”
The clearing went so quiet that Isla could hear someone sniffle in the darkness.
Dominique reached over and squeezed Barra’s hand. Barra immediately captured Dominique’s other one too and tangled their fingers. Then Vivian opened the pouch and drew out the slip of paper. “And the winner of Season Five...” she said, as a slow smile spread across her face. “BARRA!”
The crowd exploded. Barra’s family came storming out of the shadows and tackled her into a hug.
Dominique laughed and yanked her into one too.
Confetti cannons exploded overhead in clouds of pink, gold, and silver that shimmered in the studio lights and rained down over the entire set.
The Final Council scrambled to their feet, and soon every eliminated contestant barreled in, yelling, clapping, and making the space feel like a carnival.
But Isla barely noticed any of it. In that exact moment, Tamsyn had leaned in and helped her off the bench, then she’d cupped Isla’s cheeks so tenderly that the world felt like it had shrunk down to just the two of them.
Confetti spiraled and cameras flashed, but all Isla could concentrate on was the sweet taste of Tamsyn’s lips as she kissed her.
The soft touch of her hands on Isla’s skin sent warmth straight into her chest.
Isla’s knees felt wobbly again.
“I feel like I’ve won,” Tamsyn muttered softly against her lips. “Is that weird? I’m standing here watching Barra win... and I still feel like I’ve won something too.”
Isla shook her head. “It isn’t weird at all. I feel the exact same way.”
“You do?”
“Oh yes,” Isla said, chuckling. “I’ve won the best prize of all... you.”