Page 2 of Surviving Love
Jack turned at that moment and met my gaze. I didn’t think it was my imagination he smirked, which just made me dislike him even more. But instead of showing that, I faked a smile and nodded. He hesitated, and then he returned the nod.
That’s right, asshole. Underestimate me. I’ll stab you in the back when the time is right, and you won’t even see it coming.
“Awww, maybe you two can be buddies after all.” Harold snorted.
“Doubt it,” I muttered after pulling my gaze from Jack’s. “More likely you and I can work on voting him out first.”
“A big macho guy like that won’t go down without a fight.”
“He’s a type; all talk and no follow-through. I’m not worried.”
Raising his brows, Harold said, “Remind me not to piss you off. You hold grudges.”
“I don’t like arrogant people.”
“Me neither.” Harold ran his gaze over the rest of the group. “If we end up on the same tribe, I’ll have your back if you have mine.” His voice was low and his expression blank. He didn’t look at me as he spoke.
I wasn’t sure if I could trust him. Scratch that—I knew I shouldn’t trust him. It was way too soon to know what anyone was like yet. But I also knew it wouldn’t hurt to let him think I trusted him. Being Harold’s buddy could come in handy. Survival in this game equaled alliances, and the quicker I connected with other players, the better odds I had of staying in the game.
“I’m definitely open to being pals,” I said softly.
“Good.”
The boat jostled us around as it bounced over the rough water. I glanced up at the sky, noticing dark clouds hanging in the distance. It smelled like rain—not surprising, seeing as it rained eight months of the year on average in the Philippines. We didn’t get a ton of rain in Southern California, but I’d make do. After all, the point of this game was to adapt and overcome. I knew what I was getting myself into, and I welcomed it. I welcomed challenging myself and seeing exactly what I was made of.
When we were still about a half mile from the pristine shoreline, the engines of the ship stopped suddenly. One of the TV cameras pushed closer to my face as if trying to capture my reaction. This was it. It was go time. My heart rate picked up as the long boat bobbed on the water, and Shep Johnson, the host ofDevious Island, appeared from below deck. His smile was blazingly white and his charisma palpable as he stood on deck.
One of the assistant producers, a young blonde girl named Holly, shouted, “Let’s give a warm welcome to our illustrious host, Shep Johnson!”
We all started clapping and stood to shake his hand.
Shep’s smile widened as he rubbed his hands together and yelled, “Okay, players. Who’s ready to start the game?”
The contestants cheered with enthusiasm, and the cameras circled us.
“I’ve been ready since we left the dock,” one player yelled, grinning.
“That’s the spirit.” Shep nodded, scanning the rest of us. “Anybody here think they made a mistake by signing up?”
Everyone, including me, shouted no, but Jack glanced at me with a smirk. What was that look for? Did he think I was going to wimp out or something? I glared at Jack, but he just shook his head and looked away.
Shep must have noticed our little interaction because he pounced. “You’re Mason, right?” Shep’s gaze was keen as he sized me up.
“Yes,” I said with what I hoped might pass for confidence.
“Did you notice Jack looked at you when I mentioned coming on the show by mistake?” Shep asked.
Heat slid up my neck to my face. “I’m not here by mistake.”
“No?” Shep nudged. “Jack sure seems to think so.”
“I couldn’t care less what he thinks.”
Jack made a chuffing sound.
Shep chuckled. “Hear that, Jack? Mason doesn’t care what you think.”
“That goes both ways,” Jack rasped.
