‘Thank you. You have … erm, a very good forehead. Nicely shaped.’ Polite but not too flirty. Solid middle ground as far as compliments go.
‘Who’s your ideal man? What do you look for?’ he says, raking a hand through his thick, dark hair and blinking slowly at me with deep, brown, come-to-bed eyes.
‘Good question. Before I came here, I didn’t really have a type on paper,’ I say. Carlton is manspreading and running his hands lazily up and down his thighs. He’s gazing at me as though I’m telling the world’s most interesting story. ‘But now I’m here, I’ve realised that I value kindness. I love a man who is thoughtful and creative.’ A picture of Cam’s lovely face springs into my mind. ‘I love soft, light brown hair with a natural curl. He has to have eyes that you can lose yourself in for days, and that tell a story, you know?’ My gaze wanders off to the middle distance. ‘Eyes that swirl with the worldly colours of blue and green, and flecks of gold like the sunrise. And when he smiles, it lights you up from within, because you were the one to put it there.’
My heart flutters with the warm breeze. I can feel a smile spreading right across my face.
‘Don’t you mean dark brown hair and dark brown eyes?’ he says, leaning in with a grin.
‘No. Not at all.’ I’m lost in a daze. A delicious dreamy daze.
Carlton frowns at me but I am saved by my phone pinging. I look down at the text. It says, ‘Do not react. Meet me in the PANTRY.’
‘Sorry, Carlton. You’re a lovely guy, but I have to go. Catch you later.’
I half-run, half-walk to the outside kitchen, trying to hide my excitement. Cam must need to see me pretty badly to risk it during the day. It must have been what I said. He must know I’m talking about him. My stomach is a hive of butterflies as I smile casually to the smattering of islanders wandering around. Compared to what you see on TV, it’s really quite boring when we’re not all at the firepit or doing a challenge.
I feel so nervous. I hope I’m not rushing Cam into something he isn’t comfortable with. The kissing and heavy petting have been escalated because of our situation – me, forever in varying provocative states of undress, and him, forever in charge with swoonworthy capability. And of course, my feelings may well have been exacerbated by the forbidden sexual chemistry.
I wander into the PANTRY in time to see the fake wall creak open. It opens tantalisingly slowly. My heart is literally in my mouth.
I shake my hair out and adopt a relaxed but flattering pose, hand on hip, shoulder slightly dropped. I am aghast to see a woman’s bony, long fingers with blood red nails beckon me through.
A cold sensation sweeps over me as I slide through the gap. This is not going to be good.
‘We need to check your microphone. Apparently, it is faulty,’ Porscha is screwing her eyes at me. ‘I have checked the logs, and it appears there are times when it doesn’t pick up sound.’
Keep calm. Deep breaths. I tell myself that this is no different to being in front of the headteacher when he says he is going to observe a lesson as a matter of routine protocol, when what he means is he has heard rumours that you have lost control of the classroom.
I take the pack off and hand it over. Porscha immediately inspects it before handing it back. ‘If you ever disable this pack yourself, or do something that we can’t see on camera, then you are out. Do you understand me?’
I look to the floor wishing I could stand up to her but she’s a very intimidating authority figure with rhino-hide and a very bitter aura.
‘Who do you really fancy? What game are you playing?’
My head snaps up. ‘Sorry?’
‘Your top three she demands. Carlton, Giovanni and which other one?’
‘Which other ones are there?’ I say, trying not to sound too facetious and at the same time give the impression that I haven’t been fed all of the information beforehand. ‘I mean, it’s hardly like we’ve had a chance to get to know them in any great depth.’
‘Does it matter?’ she says sharply. ‘They’re all boneheads. Just start getting to know them and pick one,’ she says, wagging a finger at me. ‘I’m watching you like a hawk.’
Chapter 22
Two minutes later, I’m back in the outdoor kitchen pretending that nothing happened. I might have known Porscha would be up to something. She has told me that I will be doing a hashtag secret steal along with Amber. We are not to tell the others. We will be stealing two men tonight and leaving the others 'vulnerable'. She has more or less told me that, as a result, I will be sleeping back in the big bedroom with my new partner, or else. And reading between the lines, she wants to turn everyone against me.
I see Amber marching towards me with a distraught look on her face. ‘Can I grab you for a quick chat,’ she says.
We walk across the fake grass, past the pool, the giant bean bags and over to a nook with a sign hanging above it, ‘Cosy Cuddles’.
‘We should tell them!’ Amber blurts out. ‘I mean no. We shouldn’t. Should we? I have no idea. What should we do? Tell them or not tell them?’
‘When Porscha says "vulnerable" what does she mean exactly?’
‘Like they could get dumped from the island or not dumped or dumped then brought back in as a Mi Casa Su Casa, or maybe as a bombshell, or maybe brought back in on a later series. Or dumped and never, ever heard of again, like social media lepers.’
That’s no help. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t mention it to any of them, so that they don’t worry. It’s not as if we actually fancy any of the guys anyway, so it hardly matters.’
