Chapter 20 #2
He fixes me an intense look. ‘I like that you’re so sweet and innocent, yet so capable and…
insanely hot.’ He looks me appreciatively up and down while I yank self-consciously at my skirt and shirt to eke out a few extra inches of coverage.
‘It’s like you have no idea how sexy you are.
I’d be up for stealing a chat when you come out of the Hut. ’
I’m a bit caught off guard. ‘Okay, yeah. Sure.’
He saunters off, so confident, so sure of himself. How do people do that?
* * *
As soon as I’ve finished clarifying my position on all things challenge related, I make my way to the dressing room.
One look in the mirror and it is all I can do to not shriek in horror at my reflection.
What a state! Hair all over the place in two raggedy bunches.
Make-up literally smeared down my face. My nose looks sunburnt and shiny.
My outfit has dried all crinkly due to the constant dunking in the water.
Binky and Kassy race in. They are wearing bikinis and look fabulous. ‘Where have you been? Quick, get changed. They are scrapping the challenge. We’re going to film making mocktails, instead.’
‘In our couples!’ yells Kassy. Then she looks to me, alarmed. ‘What’s my one called again?’
Because of my encyclopaedic study of the contestants, thanks to Cam, my knowledge of them is extensive. ‘Marcel. Twenty-four. Likes all sport, camping and cooking vegan meals. He loves his grandmother very much because she raised him, and they have five dogs and seven cats.’
Kassy looks a bit deflated.
‘But he has been single for over a year, since his fiancée ran off with his dad, which triggered him to start his own business and now he is well on his way to making his first million dollars.’
She perks right up. ‘I am definitely pulling him for a chat.’
‘Do mine! Do mine,’ squeals Binky.
‘Brad. From Australia. He likes bush trekking, extreme sports and sewing. He has four brothers and two sisters. He is twenty-one years old and, after a dry spell of two years, he now feels ready to settle down with the girl of his dreams. Binky, you are his exact type.’
This proves a popular move.
‘Let’s do Libby’s makeover,’ Binky yells. ‘Amber! Get in here! Kassy, you do wardrobe, I’ll do hair.’
* * *
Ten minutes later, my hair is up in a messy bun, my face is natural and vibrant thanks to Amber’s clever make-up, and I am wearing a gorgeous bikini and matching sarong picked by Kassy from the free clothes rack our sponsor has provided.
It fits me perfectly. It’s colourful and eye-catching without being too revealing.
We walk to the outdoor kitchen together, linking arms as though we have been friends for decades.
Mimi is already there draping herself over Carlton while glancing at Giovanni every few seconds.
The benches have been laid out with every kind of fruit and the shelves on the back wall are groaning under the weight of dozens of bottles of brightly coloured juices. Brad’s phone pings. It’s his first time. He looks like he has won the lottery.
‘I got a tixt!’ he bellows, and we all squeal excitedly. ‘Oislanders. It is time to git fruity. Bist mocktail and bist name wins!’ he screeches. Everyone is leaping up and down.
‘Wins what? Does it say?’ I ask.
‘Who cares?’ yells Mimi, jumping into Carlton’s arms. ‘It’s all about the winning!’
Carlton flicks his eyes my way as though to apologise.
‘Hey, Libby,’ Giovanni intercepts. He has noticed Carlton looking in my direction. ‘You look nice.’
‘So do you,’ I say out of politeness. He is wearing swimming trunks that would fit a very small child, possibly under the age of four.
He has doused himself in so much oil that the first thing he picks up slips easily through his fingers, and even though I instinctively try to catch it, it crashes noisily to the floor.
We have broken a glass fruit bowl and there are chunks of chopped pineapple everywhere.
A voice comes crackling out through the speakers.
‘Cut! Jesus Christ, Libby. Why must everything you touch turn to shit?’
Giovanni gives me a panicked look. ‘Oh my God. I’ll tell Porscha it was me.’ He looks positively terrified. ‘She’ll probably dump me from the island on the next recoupling.’
‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘She thinks it was me. I’ll take one for the team. I’m not a massive fan of pineapple anyway.’ Fudge. I’ve mentioned the code word. But I’ll have to worry about that later. ‘Let’s just crack on with the task. Name the mocktail first or do you want to decide the ingredients?’
Giovanni sighs with relief and gives me a look of wonder. ‘You are such a lovely person.’
I shrug. ‘All teachers are. It’s in our nature. What can I say?’
‘Your time starts now.’
We spend a riotous forty minutes coming up with all manner of names for our mocktails.
Fruit is flying everywhere. I look along the row to see all the couples taking it very seriously, except us.
Packets of sherbet, boiled sweets and brightly coloured sugar-coated jellies are being hurled into blenders.
People are racing back and forth to the juice bar as an invisible clock ticks loudly over the speakers.
The pressure is on, and I can see Giovanni getting nervous.
I put slices of kiwi on my eyes and two sticks of celery up my nose and whip my head round to ask Giovanni, ‘Is this what they mean by getting fruity?’
Taken by surprise, Giovanni bursts out laughing and accidentally leans on the button for the blender he is loading. It sends liquid flying out to splat everyone around us. I find this hilarious, and I bend over wheezing with laughter. We are drenched.
In response, he scoops up some of the mush from the bench and dumps it on my head. I then do the same but wipe it over his face. ‘At least it tastes nice,’ he says as we crease up laughing.
‘Oh, my God,’ I say, licking my fingers. ‘How much sugar did you put in this thing? It’s so sweet it makes me want to punch a wild boar in the face.’
Giovanni is snorting with laughter. ‘Yeah. I’m gonna go outside and thump a rhino right now!’
‘Wrong terrain. Wrong continent,’ I say, my mind instinctively wondering if Cam is getting my reference. ‘Try sub-Saharan Africa.’
Amidst the mayhem, Carlton catches my eye and gives me a shy smile. But he stands looking at me for too long. Mimi puts a hand to his cheek and turns his face away. She then turns back to roll her eyes at me.
I look back at Giovanni who is wiping his face clean while also being distracted by Mimi and her cavorting unnecessarily with Carlton.
‘Pay attention, Giovanni. Let’s concentrate on the task at hand. So, names for our mocktail. Which one is your favourite?’
He is chugging the rest of the sugary drink down like an addict. ‘Which ones did we have?’
‘We have narrowed it down to…’ I take a deep breath and try to swallow the embarrassment.
My sister, Tyrone, my friends, my distant relatives, my work colleagues will all be watching this.
‘Bols Deep, Bend Over Shirley and Up the Bum… I mean, Rum. Up the Rum.’ I shake my head in disbelief. ‘Which do you prefer?’
I know which one I don’t prefer but it seems this joke is going to run and run.
Giovanni is obviously remembering the previous challenge and it sets him off giggling again. He takes a moment to mull the choices over before grinning suggestively.
‘Up the Rum. It has nice imagery, plus it will always remind me of you.’
And away he goes. He can barely stand up straight. He grabs on to the bench to steady himself. When his laughter subsides, he wipes his eyes with the back of his hands and looks at me with an intense expression.
‘Oh, man. No other girl has made me laugh the way you do. You’re hysterical.’
‘Why thank you. That’s just what every woman wants to hear. That she is hysterical.’
He starts chuckling again. ‘Honestly. The more I get to know you, the more I think I’m falling head over heels in love with you.’
It’s as though everyone suddenly stops what they are doing to look in our direction.
Silence. Plenty and plenty of silence.
Giovanni, suddenly self-conscious, is pulling himself together and waiting desperately for me to respond.
‘Cut! Set up for the blind taste test and points round, then we’ll announce the winners.’