Jasmine and I break from the pack, ignoring the loaded frown Cruz shoots me as he continues down the hall with Emma and Callie.
“I’m starving,” Jasmine groans, already kicking off her heels and heading toward the fridge.
I follow suit, my feet aching from the one of many pairs of stilettos Oakley picked out for me during the shopping spree he’d taken me on to prepare for the show. He insisted on it, and paying, so I gave him full rein to pretty much buy for me as he liked. And that he did, dresses that don’t reveal too much but have slits high enough for just a slight tease, and bikinis that cover more than any other girl’s in the house. He’s looking out for me without me asking, and making sure I’m dressed modestly—which he knows will make me the most comfortable.
After a gorging session at the kitchen counter, we begin to shuffle across the house toward our room and spot Dalton and Dana up against the Great Room wall for the world, literally, to watch them paw at each other. Can they not find the rooms? It’s like they’re trying to have sex every way but privately.
“You think that’s love?” I ask in a hushed voice.
“If it was, I’d be married,” Jasmine quips with a snicker before rushing up the stairs toward our door, with me following behind.
“Shhh.” I point to the guy already asleep when we finally creep into our room—Miles, per his nameplate.
“Come lie in my bed for a while so we can girl talk,” Jasmine says. She’s half giggling and still buzzing, as am I.
Instantly agreeing and full-on beaming, I climb in beside her, both of us trying to stifle our giddy noises. She solves the problem with her next question.
“Are you upset about Oakley?”
“What do you mean?”
Even in the dark, the “What the fuck do you think I mean?” look in her expression screams at me. “Did he even speak to you tonight? Get you a drink? Check your pulse?”
“Psh.” I toss a dismissive hand. “You don’t know Oakley. If he has an audience willing to listen to him talk about himself, everyone else disappears. He’s just really into football, and he’s worked so hard. I’m happy he made some new friends to swap stories with.”
She studies me a second longer before looking up at the underside of the top bunk. “But Nadia was all over him. That’s gotta bother you a little.”
Jasmine doesn’t get it. Oakley and I are solid. And I’ve long since learned if you can’t handle women noticing your man is hot, don’t date a hot man.
“He wasn’t all over her, though—that’s what matters. I’m telling ya, he probably didn’t even notice.” I choke on my own lie; it was a bit much, even for my trained outlook. How could he not notice? I saw the way he aimed his fleeting eyes at Nadia, and more than once. He liked her there at his side, fawning all over him in her skimpy dress. But Oakley doesn’t go for girls like that. I mean, he had a chance to dress me any way he liked, and what he likes is a sweet girl with heart. Just like he’s always telling me I am.
That’s when it clicks.
“Oakley’s really smart, too,” I add, unsure whether she’s even still awake. Her head falls my way, confirming she is, so I continue. “He’s playing this game to win, like he always does. Who do you think the first couple voted into the Soul Search will be?”
“Ugh,” she groans, mock gagging. “Dana and Dalton, if we’re lucky. God, they’re sickening.”
“See? Too obvious—they’ll be targeted. Oakley’s simply strategizing.”
“Uh-huh. I hope you’re right, because if not I’ll rip his balls off.” We both laugh too loudly and slap our hands over our mouths. “You’re a sweetheart and deserve a good guy,” she adds when we’re calm.
“Thanks, same goes for you. Which reminds me…are we going to discuss you and Jensen?” I dare to ask.
“Why? I already told you how he is. I’m used to it. Besides telling me I look smokin’, he all but forgot I even existed tonight, as usual.”
She’s right. Jensen was at Oakley’s side, acting no different the entire time. Actually, now that I think about it…Dalton was the only guy who acted as if he knew there were women in the room at all. Not what I was expecting.
“I bet he’s just playing the game too. If we want to win this, we need to downplay our true feelings—find out who we think are everyone else’s supposed soulmates and get them out of the house. In the end, it’ll be me and Oakley and you and Jensen. Wait and see.”
“And if they’re not our soulmates?” she asks.
“You know, no one likes a negative drunk.” I elbow her in her side, grinning, and we both start laughing again.
“Shhh.” Her finger covers her lips, and she sits up. “Listen…do you hear that?”
I do, and if it’s Oakley, I’m gone first thing in the morning...after I unleash Jasmine on him. Wait, why would I even think like that?
“Come on.” She jumps out of bed, grabbing my hand. “That’s not in the Lovin’ Lounge. That’s close.”
“Have we not seen Dana and Dalton go at it enough?” I grouse, tired and almost sure it’s them again.
“It’s not her. Those squeals aren’t annoying enough. Come on, move it.”
She drags me so quickly I struggle to keep up. We peek both ways down the hallway, then tiptoe to the door of...Jupiter. Not Oakley’s room, thank God. With our ears pressed against the wood—as if it’s needed—we bite back our laughter at the muffled play by play.
“Harder, cowboy. Faster! Yeah…just like that.” The moans grow louder, followed by a slap. “Yes, yes! Spank me! More, Court, fuck me deeper,” the mystery girl pants.
“Wyatt, doll. It’s Wyatt in you, and don’t forget it.”
Oh my God, are they switching and she got confused?
“I don’t care, just do it, cowboy. Fuck it….fuck it real good.”
More of the group makes a noisy return home downstairs, so we dash back to our room and I clamor up into my own bunk this time.
“Night,” I hear Jasmine whisper.
“Night.”
Pulling up my blanket, I sense the telltale tingle along my skin from a weighty stare upon me at once. And I suddenly remember the nameplates. How could it only just now be dawning on me? Oh yeah…champagne, that’s how.
Hoping the almost completely dark room shrouds my movements, I turn my head slowly and find myself looking into eyes so blue, they still strike through the shadows.
“Goodnight, Harlow.” And then he rolls over onto his other side.
Cruz heard everything.
I’m not sure what time it is when I feel a large, familiar hand stroking my hair. I don’t need to open my eyes to know it’s my Oakley, his cologne announcing him instantly. I just lie there, cozy and warm under the blanket. Under his touch.
“You and me,” he whispers, more to himself since I’m completely still and feigning sleep. “Sleep well, baby.”
His lips graze the nape of my neck, and then he’s gone. I close my eyes more tightly, count to twenty, then turn to confirm he left the room. Any doubt I had about him being mine is extinguished. I know Oakley, and I know he loves me.
That’s all that matters.
Confessional: Emma McCall
“Hi, I’m Emma, sneaking in my first confessional while my babysitting brother’s sound asleep. I’m so excited to be here! I can’t believe I actually talked Cruz into bringing me. He may think he’s gonna ward off all the guys, but I’ve got plans of my own. I’m here to live it up and hopefully meet a wonderful man, no matter what Cruz says! And he’s so obvious—I know exactly who will distract him perfectly. I just need a little time to see how things play out.
“What’s…oh, they’re giving me a question. They really don’t ever stop watching, do they? It’s the middle of the night! Okay, it says, ‘Anyone special caught your eye yet?’ Wellll, there are several hotties here, so I’m physically attracted to a few, of course. But no stand-out personalities yet, since I haven’t gotten a chance to speak to many of them.
“But you can eliminate Dalton. Screwing at the table on the first night? Totally not my type, at all. Also scratch Jensen. The looks he gives are not flattering—they’re creepy. A definite no. And he better stay up in his bunk. Too close.
“I’ll keep ya posted on the rest. Night!”
Chapter 3
The house is apparently equipped with a thunderous intercom system, which we all unpleasantly learn when Tom’s voice wakes us up at 9:00 a.m. Our directive? Don your choice of attire and be on the beach and ready to roll at eleven o’clock on the dot.
Chaos immediately ensues. Sixteen people, more than half of which are hung over and irritable, fight for showers, a spot in the kitchen, and most importantly, the coffee pot.
I’m sitting at the massive table already showered and dressed, enjoying my grapefruit and avoiding the pandemonium around me, when Oakley saunters over, leans down, and places a kiss on my cheek.
“Morning, beautiful girl.”
“Morning.” I smile halfheartedly, conflicted inside, praying whatever he decides to say next soothes it. He came to me last night—I remember that much—but I still need him to acknowledge he left me hanging during the mixer.
“I’m sorry we didn’t get much time together at the party, but those guys…” He laughs and shakes his head. “They wanted to talk sports, and I got caught up. And you looked like you were having fun with the girls.”
“Uh-huh.” I nod. “They’re great. Don’t worry about it.” This smile is borderline authentic, but there’s just one last thing to clear up. “What about the model? She big on sports?” I ask innocently.
“What model?” He looks truly baffled, but my gaze flashes toward the loud cough coming from Cruz, who’s standing at the counter not ten feet away. Isn’t he quite the eavesdropper? And considering the brows he’s raising at me, he might as well just say out loud, “He’s full of shit, you naïve ditz.”
I glare right back, then return my attention to Oakley. “Nadia—the tall, Russian goddess draped on your arm?”
Oakley crouches down and speaks quietly, bent into me. “She hung on everyone’s arm at some point, babe, which is good. Let them think she and I have some kind of connection. It keeps you and me in this house together. You know who my girl is.” He smiles tenderly and cups my cheek. “But we have to pretend to play the game, or they’ll vote us out right off the bat. We’re the only actual couple here. Understand?”
“Yes.” I grin wholly now—I knew there’d be a logical explanation, and I knew that’d be it. I’m suddenly elated; our connection is reaffirmed, untouched by time and distance. I rise up in my chair to touch my lips to his. “Got it.”
“One more.” He grabs the back of my neck and kisses me fiercely, capturing my breath along with any lingering doubt. “I’m gonna grab a shower and meet you down there,” he says when he steals his mouth away. “You and me, Har. You and me,” he whispers.
Jasmine strolls in, snickering, having caught the tail end of our kiss. “I want that for breakfast.” She sits down beside me, and Callie takes the seat across from me. “Everything good, I take it?”
“Of course,” I reply, beaming.
Jasmine fills a bowl with cereal and grabs the milk.
“You’re still hungry?” Rachel sneers in our direction, with Dana cackling at her side. “Thought after you occupied my room all night, you’d be full—double stuffed, in fact.”
What? Who? I’m lost, as is Jasmine judging by the identical clueless look on her face. But Callie is flaming red, her eyes practically glowing as she whips around in her chair. “Who are you talking to? And Dana, why the hell are you laughing?”
“Who do you think?” Rachel hisses. “We all heard Jasmine’s little threesome in my room last night. I had to sleep on the couch, thanks to her. Slut. Save that shit for the camera, Porn Queen.”
Callie glances back at us as tears well up in Jasmine’s eyes, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish under attack. I’ve got this. I just need a minute to find rational, productive words. I squeeze Jasmine’s knee under the table as I form something in my head.
Cruz’s eyes are boring holes into me, and even though I barely know him, I’m sure I know why, he’s testing me, waiting to see what I’ll do. He knows Jasmine was with me last night, not screwing anyone.
“Rachel.” It comes out half-choked and meek, so I clear my throat and try again.
“Rachel,” I project more loudly, “you’re wrong. Jasmine didn’t step foot in your room last night—she was in ours, and was standing right beside me when we went to figure out what the noise was. You owe Jasmine an apology.”
“Of course you’ll cover for your new friend. We’re not stupid.” She scans the packed kitchen to insinuate the “we” part.
“Hey, don’t get involved in this.” Oakley’s behind me; the commotion must’ve led him back. He bends to my ear and husks, “Come join me in the shower.”
Rachel plants both hands on her hips and continues, pulling my focus back to what’s really important. “Everyone knows Jasmine Cox had a threesome with Court and Wyatt last night!”
“Wow, cowboys. Nice, babe,” Jensen, whom I hadn’t even noticed standing across the way, chimes in.
I officially hate him. Jasmine’s trying to keep it together, her fingers digging into the sides of her chair, but her body starts shaking from Jensen’s callous input.
“Come on, Har.” Oakley tugs my arm at the exact moment Court removes his head from inside the fridge and slams the door shut.
“What shit you spewin’? Think your mouth might be runnin’ ahead of your facts there, sugar,” he schools Rachel, his brow crinkled with scorn. “And whatever did or didn’t happen in our room last night is none of your business.” He looks to his brother, who has his head bowed, watching every drop of coffee fall into the pot.
“It’s MY room!” she screeches.
“Then you shoulda walked your ass in. Doors don’t lock, and you know it. At the very least, you’d know what the hell you were talkin’ about. And maybe you coulda gotten some too. Wyatt? Anything to say there, bro?”
“What Court said—nobody’s business,” he mumbles, but it’s heard. “At least not until the show airs. So drop it, Rachel. And don’t accuse people of shit you’re not sure of for extra airtime.” He seems done, but no—a cocky grin sneaks across his mouth. “And yes, you probably coulda gotten some too.”
Now he’s done. Everyone’s silent, including Rachel. Jasmine’s sniffles are the only sound until I pipe up bravely again.
“You owe her an apology, Rachel.” I stand, thinking it’ll help my intimidation factor—which is nonexistent either way, but it’s worth a try.
“Like hell I’ll apologize,” she seethes, starting to leave the room before she’s stopped by a very reasonable Callie.
“The hell you won’t,” Callie warns, scaring even me. “Two words—‘I’m sorry’—better leave your mouth in the next five seconds, or I’m gonna make you sorry.”
Love Callie.
“Fine,” Rachel huffs, jerking her defiant glower to Jasmine. “Sorry I assumed it was you banging the cowboys. But they didn’t deny it, so whatever. There, everybody happy now?” she shouts, throwing up her arms.
“You okay?” I whisper to Jasmine. She only nods, then grabs my hand to pull me out of the room with her. I don’t even offer Oakley a glance as I try to get in one more evil look at Rachel. But instead, directly in my line of vision, is a wink from Cruz. Why the obvious approval of one broody stranger fills me with pride is even more bewildering than this entire morning.
And who was in the room with Wyatt and Court? Why wouldn’t Rachel assume it was Nadia, the other roommate who was hanging off Oakley’s arm when I left? Unless she knows where Nadia really was.
My mind is playing tricks on me not even a week into this cluster of an adventure.
“Morning, everyone! Welcome to your first mini challenge,” Tom greets us. We’re all gathered on the beach; Oakley
’s on my left. “Before we get started, let me answer for you all at once, no switching rooms.” He marvels at the several groans, one of which is mine. “Now, then, back to what we have planned for you today. Prior to each main challenge—the ones that could potentially send a couple home—we’ll have one of these for an extra chance at earning rewards. Today’s event is called ‘What’s on the Line?’
“There’ll be one male and one female winner, each earning $5,000 for their charities in their individual banks. You may have noticed the vault inside the house and your photos on the wall outside of it. Well, above your picture is a digital display that will show your individual account balance as you earn it by winning the mini challenges. When, or if, you’re booted from the island, any money you’ve accrued is given to your selected charity.”
Everyone around me is getting pumped up, bouncing in place and rolling their necks.
“But it’s the big display in the Great Room you want to keep a close eye on. Any time a pair of soulmates is correctly identified and sent home, $50,000 is banked in the grand kitty. In the end, the two charities of the last couple standing split that entire pot.”
I have to admit, hearing about all that money going to so many amazing causes makes this experience worth it. I’d been surprised it wasn’t just the celebrities who got to pick a charity, which is why my local animal shelter will be receiving at least $5,000…if I can win one of these mini challenges.
“Now, back to the prize for this challenge. You might wonder what’s in it for you. Well,” Tom says, waggling his eyebrows, “there’s a luxury prize for the victors. Today, that’s a five-star dinner of live Maine lobster, with a bottle of Puligny-Montrachet to wash it down.”
I am not a big fan of seafood, have no idea what kind of wine that is, and don’t want to eat a fancy meal with anyone besides Oakley, but I clap along with all the others in good spirit.
“Behind me, you see two large sheets hiding two clotheslines. One line holds eight pairs of underwear belonging to the men; the other, a pair each of the ladies packed. The man who matches the most panties to the correct owners and vice versa will win. Any questions?”
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