Chapter 3 #2
Just as I expected, Cole is pretty pleasant too, jumping into the conversation occasionally with a joke or a polite comment in response to something one of the other four of us said.
He and Marina bond over their shared love of cooking, even agreeing to share some recipes with each other once we’re back home.
More than once, I catch myself staring at his absurdly toned biceps and have to look away, but other than that I’m laughing and joking and telling stories with the rest of them.
I’d say we’re all enjoying each other’s company, which is a good sign this early in the game.
True, nobody brings up the possibility of an alliance, but it’s still pretty early to be worrying about it.
Although I sincerely doubt that the topic hasn’t crossed anyone else’s mind.
Alliances can get you far in the game, and all we have to do is mutually agree to vote the same way and not vote each other out.
With nine people on the tribe, five is a majority, so we could take out the other four and get ourselves that much further in the game.
Besides, everything else being equal, I’d rather be aligned with people I like than with people I don’t.
My line of thinking is interrupted when Rhonda abruptly laughs out of nowhere.
“I’m sorry,” she says, “but I just realized that I’m actually lookin’ forward to sleepin’ in that shelter, even though it looks about ready to collapse.
” She shakes her head, still chuckling. “Y’know, my husband could barely believe it when I told him I was applyin’ to be on the show.
‘You don’t even like campin’ in a tent, Rhonda,’ he said.
‘So how are you gonna sleep on the beach, with sand in your feet and no pillow or nothin’?
’ Well, I guess we’ll find out tonight!”
Marina rolls her eyes. “Men,” she says, with a heavy sigh.
“No offense to you two guys, of course.” She smiles at Cole and me.
“My husband asked me if I was really going to live on rice and coconuts for a month. I told him, ‘We’ve been married for nearly ten years now, mi amor. Don’t you know that Cubans already eat rice every day? ’ That got him good!”
“Oh, that’s nothing on my girlfriend,” Katie adds, grinning. “She told me she’d faint if she saw a single bug, or heaven forbid, a rat. I said it’s a good thing I’m out here and not her, because if that’s how she’d react, she’d probably spend more time unconscious than awake!”
We laugh at the three significant others and their antics. “What about you, Ryan?” Marina asks. “Anyone special in your life?”
“Not really,” I say, shrugging. As though I’d have time for dating and taking care of Arielle. But they don’t need to know about any of that yet, so I just say, “Still waiting for Mr. Right to come along, I guess.”
Marina nods. Fortunately, either they didn’t catch me say Mister or they don’t care.
Not that I really expected anyone to care that I’m gay, but you never know.
Before I came out here, I considered pretending to be straight, but I knew people would find out the truth eventually.
Trust is key in this game, and I’d be shooting myself in the foot if I lied about something so irrelevant this early on.
Besides, everyone reacted pretty well to Katie coming out as trans. If I hadn’t already decided to be open about my sexuality, that would have convinced me. And so far, it seems to have been the right decision.
In any event, the conversation continues without even a hiccup. “And you, Cole?” Marina continues. “Someone waiting for you back home?”
Cole shakes his head. “Nope,” he says. “I dated one of my classmates from culinary school for a while, but we broke up a couple of years ago, and now I guess I’m just waiting for the right person.
” His eyes flick to me so briefly that I’m not sure whether it was just a trick of the light. “Like Ry.”
The rest of the day passes uneventfully, or at least as uneventfully as it can on a desert island with nine strangers trying to build a campsite and twice as many camera crew running around filming every little thing we do.
The only time I’m not on camera is when I go off into the woods alone to relieve myself, not because it’s decent, but because there’s no drama to film when I’m by myself.
Just another reminder that this is entertainment first, last, and everywhere in between.
By the time we’ve finished weaving what feels like an adequate number of palm fronds, the others have gotten a fire started and boiled some water, which I drink down gratefully.
It’s not too hot out here, at least in the shade, but I’ve had nothing to eat or drink since I got on the motorboat hours ago.
Joe also cooks us some rice; none of us is that hungry just yet, but we all agree it’s better to eat something now rather than wait until we’re truly starving.
We finish eating just in time to watch the sun go down over the ocean, lighting up the sky like a Monet painting.
Then we rush to put the finishing touches on the shelter before it gets completely dark, lacing the weaved palm fronds through the roof and putting a few on the floor to make it more comfortable.
We manage to finish the shelter just as the last rays of twilight begin to fade, and all of us take a step back to admire our handiwork in the light of the fire Joe and Jing built.
It’s no five-star hotel, or even a one-star hotel, but it’ll do.
Besides, we can keep working on it over the next few days.
It’s not like we’ll have much else to do, honestly.
As soon as the sun is fully below the horizon, Neema and most of the camera crew pack up their equipment and leave, with only one, a tall, skinny man with dreadlocks who looks to be about my age, staying behind.
He’ll probably be enough until tomorrow morning, considering how worn out we all are from our hard day of work.
It’s not like we need a multitude of cameras just to watch us sleep—or, rather, try to sleep.
As the stars begin to shine, we sit around the fire for a little while, but it’s obvious everyone is exhausted, so we all head off to bed fairly quickly.
I try to struggle through, but eventually I can feel my eyes closing on their own, and so I make the short walk over to the shelter, ready to get what rest I can.
With a sigh, I squeeze in between Rhonda and Joe, putting my pack underneath my head and pretending like it’s a pillow, trying to find a comfortable position.
One day down? I think to myself drowsily, my eyelids heavy as anchors. Only thirty-two to go.