me about my win. Dean was in the distance, heading toward me, and I offered him a faint smile as he walked by. “Hi,” I called, just before another production assistant grabbed him.
He turned and gave me a hard look. “We’ll talk later.”
That didn’t bode well. I swallowed and nodded. If this was a show for the cameras, well...he certainly had me convinced.
~*~
While there were many tiny things I really disliked about the rules of Endurance Island, the worst had to be the ‘no talking’ rule on transportation. Since the show was all about filming every aspect of our day in the island setting, talking on the motorboats would interfere with that, so the simplest show rule was “No talking at all” during transport. Which was fine, normally, but as I sat in the helicopter with Dean next to me, our legs touching, it was hard to stick to the rule.
I wanted to find out if he was mad at me. If I’d made the wrong decision.
The helicopter dropped us off at a designated pad on a different island, and a woman was there to greet us and take our backpacks, since we weren’t allowed to bring them on reward. She had the long, wavy hair and round face of the native Islanders, and was dressed in a colorful wrap dress and wore a flowered wreath. “Come,” she gestured at us, her voice barely audible as the helicopter took off again, and I felt (rather than heard) the familiar camera-man moving into place to the side.
The woman led us up a long flagstone path to a small beach house with large windows. The heavily slanted roof and bushy palms surrounding it were supposed to give an air of privacy to the hut itself, but I could see the rest of the hotel in the distance, and it felt weird to be so close to civilization once more. Our escort led us up the stairs to the bungalow and opened the door, then gestured that we should enter. “Your food is waiting for you inside. Please ring the bell if you need anything,” she said, then walked to the edge of the bungalow porch to demonstrate the bell. “I will come and assist you with anything you require. The helicopter will return in the morning to take you back to the beach.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, not looking at my partner. It sounded like it would be just the two of us. An anticipatory tingle skittered over my skin, but that was ridiculous.
Dean thanked her as well, and she moved down the steps and away, leaving us alone in the small island bungalow. Dean glanced at me.
My mouth dried at the expectant look he was giving me. He clearly wanted answers, and the only ones I could think of started with I didn’t want to be separated from you... which just sounded desperate. I pushed past him into the cabin, looking around.
The smell of food hit like a brick, and my mouth began to water immediately. I followed it into the large living room area of the tiny house. The bungalow seemed to be built with a very open layout – one half of the entire house was the living room area, and a long, low table overflowed with food. Two pillows sat on either end of the table, I assumed, for us to sit on.
I dropped my bag in the doorway and went to check the rest of the bungalow. One small room was a bedroom, with two tiny twin beds separated by a wicker nightstand. Two fluffy bathrobes lay nearby, along with two colorful wraps for us to wear when we were done showering. The other room was an immense, almost palatial bathroom that I could have sworn was bigger than the bedroom. Decorated in tropical style, it consisted of a stone floor and massive dual showerheads, separated by a saloon door partition. His and hers showers. Cute.
Dean had drifted in behind me, and was staring at the bathroom with an impressed look on his face. “Pretty nice digs.”
“Yep,” I said, still feeling awkward, and brushed past him, out of the bathroom and into the living room, making a direct line toward the food. A pizza dripping with cheese and pepperoni still had steam rising from it,
He turned and gave me a hard look. “We’ll talk later.”
That didn’t bode well. I swallowed and nodded. If this was a show for the cameras, well...he certainly had me convinced.
~*~
While there were many tiny things I really disliked about the rules of Endurance Island, the worst had to be the ‘no talking’ rule on transportation. Since the show was all about filming every aspect of our day in the island setting, talking on the motorboats would interfere with that, so the simplest show rule was “No talking at all” during transport. Which was fine, normally, but as I sat in the helicopter with Dean next to me, our legs touching, it was hard to stick to the rule.
I wanted to find out if he was mad at me. If I’d made the wrong decision.
The helicopter dropped us off at a designated pad on a different island, and a woman was there to greet us and take our backpacks, since we weren’t allowed to bring them on reward. She had the long, wavy hair and round face of the native Islanders, and was dressed in a colorful wrap dress and wore a flowered wreath. “Come,” she gestured at us, her voice barely audible as the helicopter took off again, and I felt (rather than heard) the familiar camera-man moving into place to the side.
The woman led us up a long flagstone path to a small beach house with large windows. The heavily slanted roof and bushy palms surrounding it were supposed to give an air of privacy to the hut itself, but I could see the rest of the hotel in the distance, and it felt weird to be so close to civilization once more. Our escort led us up the stairs to the bungalow and opened the door, then gestured that we should enter. “Your food is waiting for you inside. Please ring the bell if you need anything,” she said, then walked to the edge of the bungalow porch to demonstrate the bell. “I will come and assist you with anything you require. The helicopter will return in the morning to take you back to the beach.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, not looking at my partner. It sounded like it would be just the two of us. An anticipatory tingle skittered over my skin, but that was ridiculous.
Dean thanked her as well, and she moved down the steps and away, leaving us alone in the small island bungalow. Dean glanced at me.
My mouth dried at the expectant look he was giving me. He clearly wanted answers, and the only ones I could think of started with I didn’t want to be separated from you... which just sounded desperate. I pushed past him into the cabin, looking around.
The smell of food hit like a brick, and my mouth began to water immediately. I followed it into the large living room area of the tiny house. The bungalow seemed to be built with a very open layout – one half of the entire house was the living room area, and a long, low table overflowed with food. Two pillows sat on either end of the table, I assumed, for us to sit on.
I dropped my bag in the doorway and went to check the rest of the bungalow. One small room was a bedroom, with two tiny twin beds separated by a wicker nightstand. Two fluffy bathrobes lay nearby, along with two colorful wraps for us to wear when we were done showering. The other room was an immense, almost palatial bathroom that I could have sworn was bigger than the bedroom. Decorated in tropical style, it consisted of a stone floor and massive dual showerheads, separated by a saloon door partition. His and hers showers. Cute.
Dean had drifted in behind me, and was staring at the bathroom with an impressed look on his face. “Pretty nice digs.”
“Yep,” I said, still feeling awkward, and brushed past him, out of the bathroom and into the living room, making a direct line toward the food. A pizza dripping with cheese and pepperoni still had steam rising from it,
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