Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Could I maintain a friendship with Archer? A real one, where we talked about what was going on in our lives? Could I graciously attend his wedding to another woman someday, and smile and congratulate them?
“I don’t know,” he said. “You’ve never been just a friend to me. But if it’s friendship or nothing, I’d like to try.”
He dipped his hand in the water and brushed it across my brow, cooling me in one way while heating me up in another. I’d been with men since Archer, but he was still the only man whose touch I knew by heart.
“That feels good,” I said softly.
Everything about Archer felt good. Every look, every touch, and every moment spent alone with him in our little slice of primitive paradise. But it couldn’t last. Filming of the show would end and we’d return to our separate lives. He’d play hockey, I’d teach, and hopefully we’d talk from time to time.
“You never answered my question,” he said, his eyes locked on mine as he cupped his hand, filled it with water and poured it over the exposed skin on my shoulders and chest.
“You mean about being friends?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve been my friend since we were sophomores in high school. It may seem strange for friends to go eight years without talking, but I never stopped caring. That’s why I went to your grandpa’s funeral. I’ll always care for you.”
“I never stopped caring, either. I know you think I did, but…” He looked away. “For the rest of my life, if you need anything, I’ll be there.”
“I know.” The words were practically a whisper, because I didn’t trust my voice not to break with emotion.
It no longer felt so weird to have such intimate conversations with Nutter or Linda filming us. Today it was Nutter, and I’d almost forgotten he was there until he sneezed.
“Bless you,” I said, and the moment lightened.
“Are you feeling any better?” Archer asked me.
“Yes. Thanks for my cabana.”
His smile was wry. “It’s not fancy, but it gets the job done.”
I stayed in the water for another thirty minutes or so, eating a little of the rice he’d brought with us, but when I stood up to walk back to camp, a wave of dizziness hit me so hard I dropped to my hands and knees.
“What’s wrong?” Archer asked, kneeling by my side.
“I think I just stood up too fast. I’m okay.”
He stood and bent slightly, picking me up. I squealed as I was swept off my feet and into his arms.
“Archer, I’m fine,” I protested. “You don’t need to carry me.”
The dizziness was back, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I wasn’t fine, and we both knew it. Archer carried me to the shelter and set me down on the bamboo slats.
“I need to fill the canteens,” he said. “I’ll be right back. Don’t try to get up.”
I moved to rest on my side and curled into a ball, not remotely tempted to get up. All I wanted was to try to sleep off whatever illness I had. That was our only hope, because if it didn’t pass by our next challenge, we were sunk.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Day Twenty-Seven—Five teams remaining
Archer
“We can’t do it,” I told Lauren.
I was following my gut, which had never steered me wrong. Linda had brought us a note detailing a competition we had this morning. Every team had to trek three miles through the jungle, each team following a different course. The first four teams to finish would advance. And with Lauren as sick as she was, there was no way we were going to be one of those teams. I didn’t want to risk her health any further when there wasn’t a single good reason to do so.
“It’s shady in there,” she said. “I’ll be okay.”
My mouth dropped open. “It’s still a jungle, Lo. It’s more than a hundred degrees in there, and you have a fever.”
“I’m not quitting.”
“It’s not quitting if you’re medically unable to continue.”
She glared at me. “I can continue. If we aren’t in the top four, then we’re out. I’m not quitting.”
We’d been having this circular conversation for more than ten minutes. It was maddening, because Lauren reminded me of myself. I’d played hockey while injured many times. That was just part of the game. If we weren’t bleeding heavily or unconscious, we kept playing.
This was different, but I’d be damned if I could convince her.
“Look, if you take a bad turn in that fucking jungle, I can’t just call 911,” I said, stepping up my efforts to convince her. “Linda would have to call for help on her satellite phone, and it could take more time for help to arrive than you’d have. It’s not worth risking that for any amount of money.”
“I’m not dying, Archer.” She lowered her brows stubbornly. “I have a stomach bug. I’m not giving up my shot at half a million dollars when we’re this close. Stop treating me like I’m not strong enough.”