Tyler
I wake up to the sound of people giggling below my balcony at two in the morning. My room is in a more private part of the resort where there are no cameras installed, at least by Les' production company. The pool under my balcony is more of a private pool although Camilla did manage to sneak in that one night while I was doing my laps. Apparently, someone else has snuck in again.
I pick up the resort phone to call Security but one of the voices make me pause and I return the receiver back on its cradle.
How can I forget that giggle?
I get up from my bed and peer outside the window, making sure they can't see me. Daniela and Marilyn are sitting on the edge of the jacuzzi dangling their legs into the water. I see Daniela's wheelchair parked behind her, next to a bottle of wine. Marilyn must have climbed the metal gate and opened it from the inside to let Daniela in.
Thank you, Marilyn.
I suddenly can't stop grinning, the mere thought of seeing Daniela again chasing any sleep away.
* * *
"Oh, crap!" Marilyn quickly lifts her legs out of the water the moment she spots me behind the gate.
"No, please stay," I say as I enter the pool area, shutting the gate behind me. "It's okay. Really."
"Are you sure?" Daniela asks as Marilyn returns her feet into the water. She'd have had a harder time to get herself out of the water and I'm glad she doesn't look panicked at all. Marilyn looks like she got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. But then, she's the type who would have probably just laughed it off, too, just as she's chuckling now.
"Of course. Is it alright if I joined you?"
As I approach, I can see Daniela is wearing a t-shirt and a pair of Capri leggings. Her skinny calves dangle, under the water.
"Of course." Marilyn reaches for the bottle of wine and lifts it to the light to check how much is left. "We'd offer you some wine, but we don't have a spare glass."
"I'm good." I'm actually a beer man, and right now, I'm also a happy man. It sure is nice to see Daniela again and I can't help but stare at her. She's beautiful.
"Since you're here, will the camera people be here soon?" Daniela asks, her eyes narrowing.
"Not unless they've set up cameras in this area against my wishes, then no, they won't. This area's private and off-limits to them," I say as I sit across from them. "How are you? I hope you didn't get too sunburnt."
"I'm doing great. Aloe vera to the rescue," Daniela replies, grinning.
Marilyn stretches her arms above her head a bit too dramatically. "Boy, am I sleepy. I really need to get back to bed." She turns to look at me. "Why don't you guys hang out a while? Holler if you need me to get you back to your room."
"I can help her," I say as Daniela shakes her head.
"He doesn't need to—"
"I'd love to," I say as Marilyn winks at me, lifting her feet from the jacuzzi and getting up.
"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Marilyn says as Daniela grabs her arm. There's a look of panic on Daniela's face but Marilyn hugs her. "You guys have barely been able to talk to each other without someone else monopolizing Prince Charming's time over here, so why not now?"
Marilyn peers into Daniela's face, as if there's some unspoken agreement between them. I don't really care. Marilyn's right anyway. Daniela and I have barely spent any time alone.
"Are you sure?" Daniela asks, looking worried.
"Girl, like I've never been so sure in my life," Marilyn laughs and turns to look at me. "Take care of my girl here, alright? And walk her back to her suite like a gentleman, or I'll come back and smack you."
"Marilyn!" Daniela protests as Marilyn skips out of the pool area with a laugh and steps out of the gate. Silence fills the air as the sound of her flip flops echoes behind her.
"Can I sit next to you?" I ask a few minutes later, and Daniela nods. I don't know why I'm suddenly feeling like a shy schoolboy, but I do. My hands feel clammy, and my heart is beating fast.
"Since you're here, I'd like to thank you for showing me a great time the last two days," she says.
I squeeze her hand. "Me, too, and I want you to stay longer."
There, I said it.
"You know that's not going to happen, Tyler," she says and I frown, wondering if she truly believes I'd send her home so soon. "I'd love to, but I have work. It's not like the school district would give me so many days off at such short notice."
"You must have blocked a few weeks off when you entered—"
"My sister entered my name; I didn't," she says, and shrugs. "And now the fairy tale is over and I don't mind being sent home tomorrow."
"Don't say that."
"It's the truth. The Wild Card contest was just a way to boost ratings. There's no way any prince in his right mind would pick some girl who just happens to wander, or in my case, wheel into the set and say, she's the one."
"I'm no prince."
"And I'm no princess either, not even if Les were to slip a pea under my mattress, which I know he won't," she says, chuckling before her expression turns serious. "But I'm not the one you're looking for, Tyler, not for the show."
"No, not for the show," I find myself murmuring as I bring my hand to her face, stroking her cheek. I don't want to talk about Les or the contest, or the fact that she's right—she is going home tomorrow for the votes for Camille and Bianca still dominate some virtual scoreboard somewhere online and I only have so much influence. But then, do I really want to subject Daniela to the scrutiny that'll come during the show's finale? And not only that, but the press afterward?
As much as I did this to raise awareness for my friend's non-profit and to stoke my own ego, having ten women vying for my affection on television showed me that all that glitters isn't exactly gold. But reality TV or not, I don't want the most glittery thing on the island. I want the real thing—like friendship, laughter, and trust.
I want something real, like Daniela Simmons.
"I promise you, Daniela, I—"
She rests her finger on my lips. "No promises. Let's just enjoy the evening."
"Can I kiss you then?" The question surprises me as it tumbles from my mouth but I mean every word.
Daniela smiles and nods. "Yes."
I cradle her face in my hands before lowering my face towards hers, the feel of her lips against mine making every butterfly in my stomach flutter wildly. I've wanted to do this since yesterday, when we held onto that Flyfish for dear life, laughing till we cried. And I almost did, leaning towards her as I helped her from the inflatable and back onto the boat. But it would have been too fleeting and so I pulled away.
But I'm not pulling away now, not when my lips touch hers and electricity shoots right through me, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. It's a sensation that I've never felt before. My heart thunders inside my chest as I savor the feel of her soft lips, my tongue slipping between her teeth to steal a taste of her. She tastes sweet, and like wine, she's just as intoxicating.
Her hands rest on my chest, and I wonder if she can feel the thundering of my heart. I'd kiss her forever if I could, whisk her away and ease the spasms in her legs while I'm at it. Suddenly, she pulls away, and this time, she looks around.
"Did you hear that?" she asks, her eyes wide. Other than a few guests in the main area still talking, I hear nothing. I'm too sluggish to sense anything else.
"Hear what?"
"A camera shutter. Like the sound you hear when you take a picture with your phone. I heard one go off, just now," she says, lifting her legs, one at a time from the water. Though they don't have much muscle tone, they're beautiful, just like her. "The last thing I want is for you to get in trouble—"
"I won't get in trouble, Daniela. We're both consenting adults."
"Yes, but I signed a contract, remember? Part of that contract says no contact with you unless it's arranged by the production, and this...this kiss is certainly not approved by the production," she says. "Can you help me get back into my chair, please? I need to get back to my suite."
Her request snaps me back to reality, and I scramble to my feet. I lift her from the floor and set her down in her chair. That's when I hear it—the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter a few floors above me.
There shouldn't be enough light for anyone to have taken a clear picture of us, but it's enough to send us the message that we're not alone.
Not anymore.
***
After a restless night, I hurry to Daniela's room and find her door wide open. She's not inside and neither is her wheelchair or her things. Instead, I see Les standing on the balcony, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
"I figured you'd come by and look for her," he says confidently. "You two have broken enough rules as it is."
"We haven't broken any rules, Les, and you know it," I say, doing my best to control my temper. "Where is she?"
"She's headed back home," he replies. "She's out of the show... not that she was going to be in it, to begin with."
Of course. He's going to edit her completely out of the show, probably make some excuse saying there'd been a disqualification and so the Wild Card was scrapped. All it would take would be some legal jargon and the show would go on without her. Then I remember the sound of the camera shutter last night, the sense that someone was watching us.
"It was you last night," I say, shaking my head in disbelief. "You took pictures of us, and now you think you can just take her away like that?"
"No, it wasn't me. It was your assistant, Sean, whose job is to make sure you abide by the rules like everyone else for the duration of the show."
"So where is she?" I should just leave now and get into my helicopter and head to the airport. Maybe I can still catch her.
"She got disqualified because of a technicality," Les replies. "And it's a valid one at that."
"What technicality? That she's in a wheelchair?" I ball my hands into fists, too shocked to say anything else. Behind me, Sean walks through the door and freezes when he sees my face, my expression livid.
"Her sister, Tiffany, filled out the application form, and she's only sixteen. The rules for the Wild Card contest were explicit," Les says. "No misrepresentation, and no one under 18 entering the contest. But that's exactly what happened. Two strikes, and she's out."
I almost curse out loud but the camera crew arrives just in time to save me from any more drama, and behind them, Bianca, Camille, and Presley, looking shocked when Sean tells them that Daniela has been sent home.
"Does that mean we're back to being four contestants again?" Bianca asks as I head toward the door.
"Three," Les replies as I stop and turn to look at the women. One of them is missing.
"Where's Marilyn?"
Les rolls his eyes. "Who cares? The bitch insulted me when I came in here to give Miss Simmons the bad news and so I had to disqualify her. She and Miss Simmons left the island together."