Chapter 4
I wake up rather early the next day, not feeling anywhere near as rested as I might have hoped.
The bamboo logs we spent so much effort collecting dug into my hips and back the whole night, and I shivered every time the wind picked up more than a gentle breeze.
Plus, someone—I think it was Beck, but I can’t be sure—started snoring ten minutes after I went to bed and kept it up the entire night.
At least that means that someone got some shuteye, but I got two, or maybe three, hours of rest, and that’s probably a generous estimate.
Even as tired as I am, I doubt I’ll be able to fall asleep again, so I sit up and look around.
Most everyone else is still in the shelter, even though the sun is up and the birds are chirping, so I might as well get a head start on chores.
Maybe I can build up the fire and boil some water so everyone will have some ready to drink by the time they get up. Can’t hurt to get some brownie points.
Yet as I slowly extricate myself from the shelter, taking care not to wake any of the others, I see that someone else has already beaten me to it.
Cole sits by the fire, leaning against a log that we put there yesterday for that exact reason.
He’s got the fire going already, and it bathes him in a flickering golden light that contrasts with the shadows of palm fronds from the trees behind him.
He’s looking away from me, towards the open ocean, and he looks so peaceful that for a second I consider just turning around and going back to the shelter before he notices me.
If I talk to him in my sleep-deprived state, I might slip up and let him know that I think he’s a threat.
That might not be a disaster, but it certainly wouldn’t be good for my game.
Then I remember that we’re stuck together on this desert island at least for the next few days, so I’m going to have to talk to him eventually.
Plus, I need to start building relationships with my tribemates if I want to avoid being the first person voted out.
Better to go hang out with him now, so he doesn’t start to think I’m difficult to work with.
Besides, it can’t hurt to get to know him a little, right?
So, I sit next to the fire, close enough to him that we can talk without waking the others, but not so close that we’re touching.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the overnight cameraman perk up and point his camera in our direction, but it barely registers.
Maybe Neema was right, and I’m getting used to being filmed constantly. Now there’s a scary thought.
Cole nods at me as I sit down. He’s already starting to sport some stubble around his chin and cheeks, making him look even more annoyingly cute than he did yesterday. “Morning, Ry,” he says, his voice scratchy. “You’re up early. Couldn’t sleep?”
“You could definitely say that,” I reply, trying and failing to stop a yawn. “How about you?”
“I’m always up this early. Granted, usually I actually, you know, sleep during the night rather than just toss and turn for hours, but I guess it’s just routine by now.”
“Really? I would have guessed that chefs would be more on the nocturnal side. Staying up late to clean up after dinner, and everything.”
“Yeah, you’re not the first one to think that,” he says, giving me a sardonic grin. “The restaurant I work for is known for breakfast and brunch. Usually I’m done before three in the afternoon.”
“Oh. I guess that makes sense.” I shift against the log, trying to find a more comfortable position. “Sounds pretty nice, if I’m being honest.”
“I’m not complaining.” He turns his head and looks at me, his gaze holding mine. “You should come visit once we’re all back home. I’ll make you the best eggs Benedict you’ve ever had in your life.”
“I’d like that.” I honestly don’t know whether or not I mean it.
Cole seems fine so far, and he’s exactly the type of guy I usually go for, but my goal here is to win a million dollars for my sister and me, not to find a new boyfriend, even if I’d get some good food out of it.
Still, I am trying to build a connection here, so I add, “I’m a sucker for a good brunch. ”
“Perfect.” He grins at me, and it takes a conscious effort not to return it. “What about you? You must be used to getting up early to go to court every day, Mr. Fancy Lawyer.”
I let out a laugh before I can stop myself. “I haven’t been in a courtroom since the day I was sworn into the bar. My job is very much a ‘nine-to-five, five days a week in the office’ sort of thing. To be honest, I don’t even wear a suit most days.”
“Wait, really? I thought all lawyers were supposed to get dressed up and take their briefcases to court every single day.”
“Not all of us,” I say wryly. “If I’m in court, it means I’ve messed up pretty badly. That, or I’ve been arrested.”
He chuckles at the last bit. “Okay, okay. I’ll take your word for it.”
We continue to sit together, chatting about the weather and our jobs, both of us apparently deciding that it’s far too early—both in the day and in the game—to discuss important things like strategy or our fellow tribemates.
Truth be told, I’m happy to avoid those subjects.
We’re less than a day in, and if I’m seen strategizing and laying out plans now, when we all barely know each other, people might start to think I’m a threat and send me home first. Far better to stick to small talk for now, and let someone else paint a target on their back.
Plus, if I’m being honest, this feels … nice, in a way I can’t quite put into words.
It’s almost like we’re just two friends who are catching up with each other after a long absence, rather than strangers who just met each other yesterday.
Of course, that’s part of the problem—if Cole can connect with everyone this easily, he’ll be that much harder to vote out.
And yet, there’s a voice in the back of my head telling me nobody’s getting voted out just yet.
So, I continue my little chat with Cole, content to just enjoy the moment while I can.
I just have to remind myself not to enjoy it too much.
We both keep our voices down so as not to wake the others, but it isn’t long before Rhonda joins us, rubbing her eyes and yawning.
That seems to open the floodgates, and soon we’re all sitting around the fire in various stages of wakefulness.
All of us, that is, except Ashley, who’s apparently still sleeping.
We’re all still hungry from last night, so we decide not to wait for Ashley to wake up before we make breakfast: plain white rice boiled in our single pot, just like we had for dinner last night.
While we’re eating, the cameraman who’s been filming us for the past twelve hours radios in, and soon after, we’re joined by more camera crew and Neema.
The latter makes a beeline for us, her shoulders squared.
“Good morning, contestants,” she says, her voice chipper, like she actually slept in a real bed last night.
“Once you’re done eating, we’ll start filming confessionals one at a time.
Meanwhile, the rest of you can go about your day and do your best to pretend like I’m not here.
Understood?” She waits for us all to nod, then claps her hands together.
“Anybody want to volunteer to go first? I promise I won’t bite. ”
The eight of us share a look, and then Jing raises her hand. “I’ll do it if nobody else wants to.”
Neema smiles. “Perfect. In that case, come with me, please. We’ll find a good spot for filming.” Gesturing to one of the cameramen, she and Jing walk down the beach, leaving the remaining camera crew to film us.
Once Neema and Jing are gone, Beck turns to the rest of us.
“I think there are a few things we need to do today.” Apparently, he’s decided to continue gracing us with his leadership.
“One: collect coconuts so we have something to eat besides rice. Two: do whatever we can to make the shelter more comfortable. And three: gather some firewood so we don’t have to worry about our fire going out.
I figured we could split into groups and get everything done in parallel.
Anyone have any objections?” He waits less than a second before nodding, as though we’ve all acquiesced.
“All right! In that case, let’s all get to it.
The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll finish. ”
Beck evidently didn’t feel like assigning us to specific chores today, so after a quick discussion, the seven of us, minus Jing and Ashley, went about our tasks.
Rhonda, Katie, and I all chose to collect coconuts, so we head off down the beach while Joe and Cole head to the forest to look for firewood, and Marina and Beck discuss what can be done about the shelter.
At first, it’s fun, almost like a game. We walk up and down the shore, searching the ground around the palm trees and looking for fallen nuts.
None of us is quite hungry enough yet to try climbing one of the trees so we can harvest the fruits at its crown, but I imagine we might get there someday soon.
Some of the coconuts we find are rotten, but a good number are suitable for eating.
As time passes, however, the sun grows higher in the sky, and it starts to get uncomfortably warm. We also make the mistake of starting with the trees closest to our camp, which means that we need to walk farther and farther away to find trees that we haven’t already harvested.
Thankfully, just when my arms are starting to get tired from endlessly carrying coconuts back and forth, I get a reprieve. “Ryan, it’s your turn to film a confessional,” Neema says. She gestures to the coconuts I’m holding. “Once you get back to camp, put those down and follow me.”