Chapter 14
We’re all gathered around the firepit, eating some food, and trying to relax after a chaotic day on the island.
I say trying to relax because, one, it’s hard to relax when you’re being filmed, and two, I’m surprised Lockie and I are still here. The real contestants must not have arrived yet. I just need to be patient.
Ozzy spears a piece of fish with a stick he’s fashioned into a skewer – because of course he has. Everything he does is so intensely manly.
‘Enjoy,’ he says. ‘Help yourselves. And no complaining, because it’s this or nothing.’
‘No complaints here,’ Tony says, talking through a huge mouthful. ‘Swear down, after my old dear’s Sunday roast, best thing I’ve ever had. It’s well fresh.’
‘It’s… edible,’ Camilla adds. She nibbles delicately, like a cute little bunny.
Honey’s sitting cross-legged, swaying slightly as she eats, looking the happiest she’s ever been.
‘It’s kinda salty,’ she says, then beams like that’s a compliment.
I can’t quite figure Honey out. Something about her vibe is just… off.
Lockie wipes his hands on his shorts – there are no serviettes in paradise – and nods at Ozzy.
‘You keep this up, we’ll build you a statue out of sand,’ he jokes.
‘Like I’m like your god?’ Ozzy replies, impressed.
‘Sure,’ Lockie says with a laugh.
‘I’m just doing my best, using what’s here,’ he replies. ‘Fish are practically volunteering to jump in the fire. I am looking for a goddess though…’
I pick at my portion, grateful it’s stopped my stomach from growling in complaint.
The disembodied voice of the island crackles through the speakers all of a sudden.
‘Islanders, there is something in the hatch. The first boy to get there wins a perk.’
There’s a beat of stillness. Then they’re off – well, Lockie and Ozzy are.
You’ve never seen true alpha chaos until you’ve watched two grown men, both part peacock, part toddler, race for a mystery box like it contains the one cure for a disease we all have.
Sand slings everywhere as they run, and they’re neck and neck for the most part.
Tony doesn’t even flinch. Just bats a lazy hand and keeps chewing.
‘I ain’t competing with those two in a race,’ he says. ‘I’d rather keep my dignity.’
‘You’re not going to run like a good boy?’ Camilla asks with a twisted smile.
‘You’d go mad if I called you a good girl,’ he replies.
‘I love being called a good girl,’ Honey adds in an overly sexy tone.
Camilla doesn’t look impressed – Tony does though.
Honey leans forward, watching Lockie and Ozzy go, tipping her head and biting her lip like it’s a Diet Coke break.
‘Oh my God. Look at them. They’re like… antelopes,’ she says. ‘But, like… well fit.’
‘Honestly, it’s embarrassing to watch,’ Camilla adds. ‘Respect to you, Tony, for not bothering.’
I don’t say anything. Mainly because I’m too busy watching them tear across the sand like they’ve been training for this moment all their lives, but also because I’m still very aware that we’re being filmed. I don’t want to be caught saying anything I’ll regret.
They’re neck and neck. Lockie’s longer strides eat up the ground, but Ozzy’s pure power. Every few seconds one pulls ahead, then the other.
Tony starts commentating, like it’s the Grand National.
‘Ozzy takes the lead, Lockie is hot on his heels, then Ozzy again, but Lockie’s right behind him, then Ozzy…’
They’re almost there when Ozzy does something superhuman.
He digs deep, shoulders dropping, stride widening.
He just… powers forward. Like he’s been storing a turbo boost in his calves for exactly this moment.
Lockie tries to match him, but it’s too late.
Ozzy slams a hand down on the hatch, claiming his prize.
‘And it’s Ozzy who wins,’ Tony announces.
Lockie arrives half a second later and bends over, his hands on his knees as he sucks in air like he’s been minutes without it.
Ozzy straightens up, catching his breath first, and pulls out an envelope, holding it up like a trophy. He jogs back, a little smug bounce in his step. Lockie trails after him, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He looks beat.
Ozzy stops by the firepit, holding the envelope proudly.
‘Well,’ he says, grinning, ‘that was invigorating. Bit of light exercise.’
Lockie collapses onto the sand with a dramatic groan.
‘That took at least a year off my life,’ he confesses. Well, there’s no point trying to pretend otherwise when you’re huffing and puffing and your face is kind of purple.
‘Good,’ Tony says, not looking up from his fish. ‘Much as I like you, mate, it means I might win the next one.’
Ozzy makes a show of opening the envelope. Then he clears his throat, adopting a dramatic TV announcer kind of voice.
‘If you’re holding this,’ he starts, pausing for dramatic effect, ‘you’ve won a prize. But first… everyone gets to play a game.’
A mixture of groans and whoops comes from the group.
Ozzy keeps reading.
‘There are cards in the envelope. One at a time, islanders will take a card and complete the challenge written on it – sounds easy enough.’
He pulls out the stack of cards and places them in front of us.
Honey claps like a toddler at a birthday party.
‘Oh my gosh, I love it, I love it.’
We circle the firepit, taking our seats, letting Ozzy hand everyone a card.
Honey goes first. She looks at her card and giggles.
‘Kiss the islander who is your usual type,’ she reads out.
She swivels her head towards Tony. Then Lockie.
Then Ozzy. Pretending to deliberate in real time – but then she looks at Lockie and you can tell her mind is made up.
She stands, totters over to him, and plants a kiss on his lips.
It’s slow – romantic even – with lips parted.
And I’m… I’m jealous? Surely I’m not. I already dodged that bullet.
Lockie gives a little bow.
‘I’m honoured,’ he says with a smile.
I notice him glance at me for a second, then quickly look away.
Next is Tony. He grumbles as he reads it, like it personally offends him.
‘Fuck sake – do a sexy dance for the islander you fancy the most,’ he reads.
He looks at Camilla for a split second. She scowls back at him.
‘Don’t you dare,’ she warns him.
He chooses Honey instead. His ‘dance’ involves two hip thrusts, a dab, and what I think is supposed to be the worm, but he can’t get off the floor so he’s just sort of humping the sand. It’s a dance – it’s not sexy.
Camilla’s turn.
‘Whisper something flirty to the person you think would be the worst kisser,’ she reads.
Poor Tony – her eyes go straight to him. She doesn’t hesitate. She walks over, leans in, and says something in his ear that makes the colour drain from his face. I don’t know if he looks turned on or terrified.
Ozzy goes next.
‘Shake hands with the islander you think would steal your partner,’ he reads.
He glances over at Lockie.
‘Just because you’re competitive, mate,’ he tells him, offering him his hand to shake.
‘Fair enough,’ Lockie replies, taking it in good spirits.
My turn – I’m dreading it.
‘Oh!’ I say, seeing that it’s not that bad. ‘Give a hug to the person who you think will look after everyone. Well, that’s easy… Ozzy?’
‘Aww, you babe,’ he says as he comes to take his hug.
‘Well, you’re pretty much our daddy,’ I tell him, not thinking about the words I’m using.
‘Daddy?’ he jokes. ‘I’ll take it.’
Love finding new and awkward ways to embarrass myself. That better not get clipped and go viral.
Then it’s Lockie’s turn.
He takes a card, flips it over, and reads aloud: ‘Kiss the neck of the girl you could see yourself settling down with.’
‘Oof, that’s a heavy one,’ Honey blurts.
My mouth goes dry.
Honey immediately tosses her hair and angles her body toward him, as if to say she’s ready. Well, she did already kiss him, so she looks like she reckons he’s going to return the favour.
Lockie surveys the group calmly. It feels like it takes him ages to decide.
Then he walks straight to me and every part of me freezes.
He stops in front of where I’m sitting by the fire. He doesn’t say a word. Just reaches down, takes my hand, and gently pulls me to my feet, like this is a rehearsal and I forgot my cue to stand.
I can feel every pair of eyes locked on us. The cameras too. I can imagine Simon bouncing in and out of his seat in the control room, jumping for joy, thinking he’s going to get some action.
Lockie steps closer. So close I can smell sun cream on his skin and, God, he smells good. Kind of like he’s wearing aftershave, but we don’t have anything like that here. It’s just him.
His fingers brush my hair aside, clearing a way to my neck, slowly and gently enough to make my pulse throb in every part of my body. Then his lips touch my neck.
Not a quick peck. Not a jokey tap-and-go. It’s slow. Warm. Deliberate. It goes on…
He lingers, breath teasing my skin, lips grazing in a way that makes my knees want to give way. For a second or two – maybe even longer – I forget the cameras watching us. I forget why we’re here. I forget my name!
I… melt. Fully. Like ice cream in the sun. My hands wrap around his arms, like I’m holding him in place.
And then he stops.
I snap back too. The world around us comes back into view – the fire’s crackle, the camera’s whir, oh, and everyone watching.
I step back, slowly, like I’m stepping away from danger, getting myself to safety. I pull my long hair forwards again, covering the scene of the crime, trying to act like it never happened.
Oh. Acting – that’s it. Lockie is just putting on a show.
He has to be, right? Oh, God, and I enjoyed it.
I melted into his arms, forgot where I was, loved every second of it.
I’ll just have to say I was acting too. No one could torture the truth out of me.
Because the truth is… I was way, way into it.
I don’t think anyone knows what to say now.
The anonymous voice of the island booms out, smug as ever: ‘Islanders, it’s time to couple off. As the winner of today’s race, Ozzy will choose first.’
My heart does this weird hiccup thing. Oh, God. I know this is fake, I know we’re only meant to be here for a short stint, but still, standing in front of people and waiting to see if someone picks you? I’m getting PE flashbacks.
Ozzy stands, brushing sand from his shorts, taking the moment so seriously. He looks around the circle with a blank expression, giving nothing away.
‘Well,’ he says, puffing air from his cheeks, ‘I just think, like, you’ve gotta go with your gut, yeah?
And connection is important. Real connection – and I think I’ve made one.
’ He glances at me for a second, then away.
‘So… the girl I’m choosing is someone I’ve already bonded with, someone who gives as good as she gets, someone I trust.’
My ribcage tightens. Don’t be ridiculous, I tell myself. He’ll pick Honey – who wouldn’t pick Honey? Or Camilla. Christ, even Tony, literally anyone who isn’t a crew member undercover.
‘I pick… Cleo.’
For a second, I don’t move. I don’t breathe. I genuinely think I’ve misheard him.
Me?
Honey’s eyebrows hit her hairline. Camilla looks faintly insulted too.
Ozzy just smiles at me, open and easy, like this is the most normal thing in the world.
I stand, my legs wobbly with surprise, and move to stand by his side.
He puts a warm hand on my back in that casually possessive way that producers love.
Someone in the control room – probably Simon – is probably fizzing with delight.
Almost as much as the champagne will be fizzing.
Even I can tell this is great TV from here.
I might get a slo-mo walking shot out of this, which is equal parts horrifying and hilarious.
And then the voice speaks again.
‘Lockie, your turn.’
I don’t know why I’m holding my breath still.
Lockie scans the girls, eyes unreadable behind the firelight. But then he smiles.
‘The girl I’m choosing is the one I’ve had the most fun with so far – our beds may be shaky, but we’re solid. Honey,’ he announces.
She squeals like she’s just won a holiday and launches herself into his arms. He catches her, shooting me a glance that I try to ignore.
Then Tony, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, sighs.
‘Well, that leaves me and you, Camilla,’ he tells her.
‘Stunning to be chosen last, thanks, guys,’ she says sarcastically.
And… it’s done. The first coupling. Tony and Camilla, Lockie and Honey, and me and… me and Ozzy!
There’s this odd buzzing in my chest – part nerves, part disbelief, part…
pride? Being chosen first shouldn’t matter.
I’m not here to ‘find love’ or win airtime or make a showreel.
I’m here to fill a gap, to play along, and then get out.
But still, I feel a little like I’ve won something – a game I didn’t know I was playing.
Lockie gives me a look across the fire that I can’t quite read. Maybe it’s annoyance. Maybe it’s because he thinks I’m getting too into it. It’s not jealousy… is it? Either way, it makes my insides feel like jelly.
Let me have my moment though. Ozzy chose me. Me! Over two influencers. We’ve been styling it out like Lockie and I are the two normal people they’ve thrown into the Z-list mix, so to be chosen… wow.
Not that I’ll let it go to my head. Not that I care – not really. None of this is real – I’m not here as a contestant, I’m here as a glorified prop. A stage marker until the real deal arrives.
Still… it is kind of an ego boost, right?