Page 87 of Taking the Heat

Henry ignored him and walked back to me. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m good. Don’t touch me or we’ll get a strike!’ Henry’s hand froze in the air.

‘Of course. Silly me.’ He sounded so very calm for a man who’d just raced a jet ski flat out around an island and punched a guy in the face.

‘You didn’t have to do that, by the way.’ I pointed to Dante, who was mewling like a wounded ferret. ‘He’s not worth any trouble you get in.’

‘But you are.’

I smiled. ‘That was pretty fun to watch though.’

‘I’m glad you think so.’

Beaming gratefully at Henry, I realised something: while I would always treasure him as a friend, there were no romantic feelings there. He was my English brother from another mother, and I loved that he’d look out for me and defend me, but neither of us were pretending that there was any pull between us. It was liberating.

The rest of the competitors made it back to the beach, and we all cheered for each other as people crossed the finish line. Chris, Pauline and Dante’s partner, Rafaela, were last. They’d been picked up by the little white boat and ferried back to shore, while the broken jet skis were hauled away.

I ran to meet Chris. ‘Hey.’

His crystal blue eyes were calm under his dark fringe, plastered to his forehead. I restrained the urge to brush it away as he said, ‘Hey, you won?’

‘Thanks to you.’ There was a long pause; so much was unsaid between us, and it wasn’t the right time. ‘I should say sorry to Pauline. She must have been pissed you crashed the jet ski to save me.’

‘Actually, she was the one who saw it happening. She jumped off onto the iceberg and yelled at me to help.’

‘Oh … good.’

‘Tara—’

‘Will our winners please join me on the stage? Henry and Tara! Get up here, you speedsters!’

Groaning at Miles’ poor timing, I shrugged at Chris. ‘Can we talk later?’

He nodded. ‘Call me whenever you’re ready.’

***

I didn’t get the chance. As soon as the cameras stopped rolling, Chris, Henry, Dante and I were all dragged off to have our statements taken separately about the incident that had nearly cost me my life. Strangely, I didn’t feel that traumatised, which is probably a reflection on how dangerous this whole experience has been. A concussion, a cyclone, an almost sexual assault—hell, what’s a measly jet-ski mow-down?

The questioning took hours, but the producers assured me that they would be investigating immediately, and Dante would be speaking with the Fijian authorities in the next few days. Mysteriously, no one seems to have witnessed Henry punching Dante, and it wasn’t caught on camera, so Henry won’t be charged. At least there’s some karma in the universe.

By the time they released me, it was late evening. I ordered mashed potatoes from room service and fell asleep in a carby haze.

***

Transcript of Tara M’s video diary: Day 20

Back on the water today, I felt much more comfortable on the deck of a fancy yacht. Compared to straddling a tiny jet ski, it was as if we were cruising on an aircraft carrier.

‘What do you think, bro?’ yelled Nik over the sound of the rushing air.

Clinging to the rail, I answered, ‘It’s really pretty!’ I was happy to have my last date with Nik; he’s a fun guy, plus I love Kiwis. The distraction was just what I needed. Miles had told Henry and me that we would receive our envelopes tomorrow, the morning of the last full day on the island—just before our last chance to enter the fantasy cabin. The wait was killing me.

Nik leaned his enormous arms on the rail. His eyes twinkled. ‘Did you see anything interesting yet?’

‘Just water. And some seaweed.’ I gazed out to the horizon and something caught my eye. ‘Nik! Did you see that?’

‘What?’

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