Chapter Six
Tamsyn was acutely aware of everything: the twisted shadows of the red gums looked silver in the waning moonlight, the prickly spinifex brushed against her ankles, the invisible spider webs stretched between branches, the yawning holes in the dirt, and the snakes she hoped were asleep.
Before coming on Outlast Her, Tamsyn had never once considered where the contestants ended up doing their business.
She’d always imagined a makeshift bathroom, perhaps a shack of sorts housing a simple porcelain toilet and basin that the production team had erected somewhere unseen.
Never a shower, now that would be unrealistic.
Instead, she’d discovered Moon Pit. A surprisingly large, designated clearing, hidden behind two large banks of rock and obscured by scrub and large gum trees, where everyone deposited their contributions.
Tamsyn’s first visit to Moon Pit had been uneventful, to say the least. Daytime was oddly reassuring. She could pick a patch of dirt far from any ant mounds or snakes playing hide and seek and manage the entire ordeal of going to the bathroom in the wilderness with a tiny semblance of dignity.
Night, however, was an entirely different story. Her nervous system couldn’t tell the difference between a quick mission to relieve herself and being chased by a man down an alley in a ski mask with a knife glinting in his hand.
Tamsyn was honestly scared to death.
She sucked in a breath, stepped over a rock with her Adidas Aqua slides, and found a spot that was flat and safe. Then she pulled down her pants.
Crack!
Tamsyn’s heart dropped straight through her stomach to her toes. Tony had mentioned kangaroos living in these ranges, but he’d also said they weren’t likely to encounter humans. Which now felt like a deeply unhelpful thing to say. Either they did, or they didn’t. ‘Not likely’ still meant possible.
Another crack.
She yanked up her pants so fast that the elastic bit into her hip.
Then she turned and headed back toward the camp.
Although, honestly, she was no longer sure which direction the camp was.
Tamsyn felt completely turned around. She was just about to call for help in the darkness when a shadow emerged between two gum trees.
It stretched long across the dust and looked human.
Though Tamsyn wasn’t entirely convinced.
She’d seen enough TikTok videos of kangaroos to know they could stand upright.
And when balancing on their thick tails, they loomed well over six feet.
But then a voice said, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Isla stepped into the sliver of moonlight cutting through the trees like a spotlight. “What are you doing here?”
Tamsyn didn’t answer. The adrenaline drained out of her in one quick swoosh, and all she could manage was a pathetic-sounding laugh.
Just a second ago she’d mentally prepared to outrun a kangaroo.
It couldn’t be harder than the sprint to the finish of the Mont Blanc marathon, which involved a significant climb to Planpraz.
But then again, those things could hop close to forty miles an hour.
Not that it mattered now. Isla wasn’t a kangaroo.
“Same thing as you are, I’m assuming,” Tamsyn said when Isla had moved closer.
Close enough that Tamsyn could take in the three daisies printed across her sweatshirt, her full lips, her slender nose, those bright eyes glinting in the moonlight.
Eyes that sat just far enough away to give her that one-of-a-kind look.
“I’m using Moon Pit for what it was created for. ”
Isla huffed and turned to move away. But before she could, Tamsyn lurched forward and grabbed her wrist before she spun her back. Isla protested and yanked her arm out of Tamsyn’s grip. But that was as far as she got. If she wanted to get away, she could. Tamsyn would let her.
But she didn’t. She stood right in front of Tamsyn and scowled. “You’re really loving this, aren’t you?”
“Loving what?” Tamsyn asked, confused. There were several things she loved at the moment, one of which was the extreme Australian heat, which made her skin tingle like it was being lightly toasted.
Another was the thrill of waiting for mail that could mean another challenge.
And the secret scheming she could see brewing in everyone’s eyes.
She was also loving this moment with the two of them alone under the stars.
Apparently, Isla was irritated that Tamsyn couldn’t read her mind. Isla sucked in an exasperated breath and said, “Catching me on my lie.”
“Ahhh... you mean when you pretended you didn’t know me?” Tamsyn asked. “Even though we spent a very lovely ten minutes, or maybe longer, in your sister’s powder room with that awful peony wallpaper.”
Isla’s nostrils flared. Her shoulders bunched up all the way to her ears, and she looked like she was about to run away, which frankly was the last thing Tamsyn wanted.
Now that there were two of them, Moon Pit felt exponentially less dangerous.
And also because, well, Tamsyn liked being near Isla despite the whole lying thing.
“I’m just kidding,” she said quickly. “I’ve moved on.
I no longer hold a grudge against you.” She never did.
She rarely ever held grudges. It took valuable mental energy away from things that mattered, like living her life to the fullest.
Isla didn’t say anything. She just flicked her gaze down and studied something on the ground.
Tamsyn hoped it wasn’t a weevil. She wasn’t scared of many things, but hideous-looking insects were another story entirely.
Last year she’d gone shark cage diving at San Francisco’s Farallon Islands and according to her Garmin, her heart rate had barely spiked when the beady black eyes of a great white slid past the cage.
Amazing that technically she was more scared of a small bug than of a shark.
“You know you’re allowed to admit that you regret giving up your side in the teepee to Barra,” Tamsyn said, filling the silence.
“I didn’t give it up to Barra,” Isla corrected, her voice snappy enough for Tamsyn to smile. She liked her women feisty. Always had. “She won it fair and square.”
This was true. Aggie had managed to conjure up fire like it was magic by using nothing more than dry kindling and a bow drill she’d fashioned from scraps she’d scavenged around camp.
She had gathered dry twigs for the spindle, a flat stone for the hearth, and a shoelace as the cord.
And then Isla had announced that she was giving up her side of the luxury bed they’d fairly won in the reward challenge. Whoever wanted it could have it.
Which was her first mistake. The entire camp had erupted in, “I want it!” “The Legends should have first pick.” “Is there something wrong with Tamsyn? Is that why you’re giving up your space in the teepee?”
Even Tamsyn had wondered if there was something wrong with her. It turned out her mere existence was enough for Isla to want out of the teepee. Which was hurtful, yes, but not surprising. Isla had spent the rest of their first day at camp ignoring her completely.
Tamsyn cleared the faint lump in her throat.
She wasn’t sure why the lump was there to begin with, other than the fact that she’d just noticed Isla’s nipples perking against the thin cotton of her sweatshirt.
She tried, but failed, not to look and instead let her gaze settle on a constellation of stars over Isla’s shoulder.
The night sky in the Flinders Ranges was spectacular.
The Milky Way stretched in a pale ribbon overhead, dusted with distant nebulae that looked like someone had smeared chalk across black paper.
“Why did you do it?” Tamsyn said, flicking her gaze back to Isla’s face. The question was stuck in a never-ending loop in her head. She would’ve asked Isla sooner, but there were only so many times Tamsyn was willing to walk up to someone just to be ignored.
“Why did I do what?” Isla asked, meeting Tamsyn’s eye. “Give up my part of the reward, or pretend I didn’t remember you?”
“Both,” Tamsyn replied.
Isla bit at her lip, which even in the moonlight looked rosy. She then folded her arms over her chest and rubbed at her biceps as if it were cold outside. It wasn’t. The air was pleasantly warm, with no breeze to carry all the heat from the day away. “I don’t know,” Isla said, softer than before.
“Did you think you could get away with it?”
Isla seemed to consider this too. That faraway look slipped into her eyes again.
The same look Tamsyn had noticed on her face months ago from across that all-beige living room.
Tamsyn had eavesdropped. Isla had been standing there with an empty wineglass in her hand, seemingly half-listening to a woman recount a particularly difficult Pilates class.
She’d then watched Isla politely excuse herself, head to the bar for a drink, and get intercepted by some guy in penny loafers.
Eventually, Isla had escaped to the kitchen.
Which had been the perfect opportunity for Tamsyn to introduce herself.
Isla had been alone. And Tamsyn, two Tom Collins deep, had felt satisfyingly uninhibited.
Never in a million years had she expected herself to be bold enough to kiss Isla.
Let alone lead her to the powder room in a stranger’s house.
“No,” Isla said, shaking her head. “I didn’t.
” She paused, then shrugged her shoulders.
“I guess I was just shocked to see you. I felt overwhelmed. I wasn’t sure how to handle the situation.
I didn’t want things to be so awkward that it would ruin my game before it even started.
And maybe I was a little afraid that you forgot who I was. ”
“I could never forget you,” Tamsyn whispered. It was the whole truth.
Isla opened her mouth, but then closed it again.
Was Tamsyn just imagining it, or was that same current from that night humming faintly between them again?
They were alone. The Milky Way was stretched overhead in a hazy ribbon of light.
There was something romantic about it all.
Which was why Tamsyn considered leaning in and closing the gap between their mouths.
Would that be insane? Or was it inevitable?
She’d spent entirely too much time thinking about Isla.
About what had transpired in that powder room.
About the way Isla had moaned into the small room.
Tamsyn had daydreamed about that night for months.
Even Instagram had been torturous. Tamsyn had spent several nights wondering if she should send Isla a friend request, only to back out.
First, it felt desperate. Second, there was the possibility that Isla wouldn’t accept.
Tamsyn’s heart could handle jumping out of a plane, but it couldn’t handle that level of rejection.
Tamsyn didn’t even realize she was leaning forward, head angling toward Isla to kiss her until Isla stepped back and gasped, “Are you seriously trying to kiss me?”
Tamsyn snapped her head away so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. Her cheeks filled with heat and color, and honestly, she would’ve welcomed a kangaroo charging through Moon Pit like a wrecking ball. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, quietly, and completely embarrassed. “I read the moment wrong.”
“You think?” Isla said, looking flabbergasted.
As she should. Tamsyn was such an idiot. They’d just roughly patched things up. This was not the right moment. What was she thinking?
“Well, in my defense, it worked the first time,” Tamsyn said, looking down at her feet. She couldn’t bring herself to catch Isla’s gaze.
“Well, it’s not going to work again,” Isla said, snappy as ever.
“Got it,” Tamsyn said, finally forcing herself to look up. Her father always used to say that if you’re going to spill a drink, you may as well raise the glass and call it a toast. Dignity was a choice. This felt like that kind of moment.
But when she did, she paused. Isla was smiling. Not fully. Just the smallest lift at the corners of her gorgeous mouth—a mouth she could be kissing right now if things had gone the other way—but before Tamsyn could properly register it, Isla turned on her heel and left.
When she got to a scrubby-looking bush about knee-high, she stopped and pointed toward a thick patch of spinifex. “I saw Barra do something questionable over there earlier. Best to avoid it.” Then she walked off into the darkness before Tamsyn could even say thank you.
Not that Tamsyn minded. She was still thinking about that almost smile.