Chapter Twenty-One #2
“I am pushing,” Isla snapped back a little too viciously.
Tamsyn was clearly unaware that Isla had painstakingly scrubbed those shoes yesterday at the creek.
Or worse. She didn’t care. And suddenly she couldn’t stop the thought from creeping in.
Maybe Tamsyn would breeze past the little things that felt huge to Isla.
Like forgetting she hated cilantro in her salad, or not noticing when she’d had a bad day and needed five minutes of quiet.
The wheel rolled half a turn before sinking again.
Isla groaned and leaned her shoulder against the rim. Then her knee. “This thing weighs as much as a Prius,” she muttered and heaved against the weight.
Tamsyn laughed. It was lovely and airy, and Isla suddenly felt guilty for thinking that Tamsyn wouldn’t care about her feelings. Of course, she would. Tamsyn was extremely considerate. “Together,” she said. “One. Two. Three.”
They shoved together, and the wheel lurched forward.
Then another shove. And another. By the time the wheel finally thudded against the wooden marker, Isla was panting as if she’d sprinted a marathon.
But she also felt a flicker of hope. The more Isla thought about it, the more obvious it became.
.. Tamsyn and Isla could make real life work.
“Dead hang,” Tamsyn said, hanging back until Isla stepped beside her. More proof that Tamsyn was considerate. “You go first. Take your time, and I’ll be right behind you.”
Isla nodded, feeling a burst of something hot in her chest. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say it was indigestion from yesterday’s muffins.
But it wasn’t. It was hot and fluttery. It was electric and dizzying.
It was exactly what Isla expected falling in love to feel like.
When Tamsyn helped her up to the first rungs—she didn’t need to, Isla was perfectly capable of leaping the distance—Isla knew for certain.
She loved Tamsyn. She loved her enough to move to Santa Monica if she needed to.
She was resigning from modeling anyway. And living on the other side of the country from Mallory sounded absolutely delightful.
She could see it clearly: her toothbrush lined up neatly next to Tamsyn’s; her coffee mug sitting in the sink while Tamsyn’s half-full cup waited beside it with a little note tucked onto the fridge reminding her to grab almond milk.
When Isla swung to the second rung, she barely even felt the burn in her arms.
In fact, she managed to swing to the end like Tarzan.
“That was impressive,” Tamsyn said when she landed next to Isla on the other side.
Isla was too scared to speak. She was quite sure that she’d blurt out that she was falling in love with Tamsyn, so she settled on a wink instead.
Thankfully, there was no time for chatting.
They both broke into a run and headed to the fourth stage, the lift build.
Which required way more effort than Isla expected.
The crates were heavy and made from rough-hewn wood that scraped at her palms. The sun was blisteringly hot.
Sweat kept dripping into her eyes, and for a second, she thought she might topple back under the weight of the crate.
“Together,” Tamsyn said for the umpteenth time as they stacked yet another crate into what was beginning to look like quite the staircase.
If there were any time to admire their work, she would’ve done it.
But there wasn’t. At one point Tamsyn was perched on top of the halfway-built steps, hauling a crate backward while Isla jammed her shoulder beneath it, pushing with every ounce of strength she had.
Finally, the crate settled into place. Then the next one and the next one until a fine-looking staircase formed, leading to the top.
Isla scrambled onto the platform first. She nearly collapsed from sheer exhaustion.
Her legs were like jelly and her arms were like spaghetti.
Yet she’d never felt so alive, so giddy, so ridiculously, dizzyingly happy.
She loved Tamsyn. She was in love with Tamsyn.
And love conquered all. Wasn’t love the sole reason everything outside of the game would automatically work out?
Yes!
Out of the corner of her eye, Isla spotted Barra and Dominique on the platform. They were neck and neck. There was no way she was letting them snatch glamping night out from under her and Tamsyn. No way.
Which was why Isla sprinted down the ramp.
Her right foot skidded on a slick smear of mud, and then her heel slid sideways.
She twisted to compensate and planted her left foot just as a gasp ripped from her throat.
For a brief, shining second, she thought she had it.
But then her left ankle rolled with a sickening little snap that felt like fire.
And just like that, there was no stopping gravity.
Her arms flailed. Her legs too. And for a split second, she was flying through the air.
.. until she wasn’t. Her temple clipped the wooden frame.
She could feel it smash against her face, but at the same time, she couldn’t feel a thing.
Like it wasn’t her face, it was someone else’s.
Like she wasn’t the one who was falling, like it was an entirely different person.
But then the world flashed white, and somewhere far away, as far away as the mountains, as far away as New York, Isla heard Tamsyn shout her name. “Isla!”
And then... nothing.