Summer's first task of the day: pretend this isn't the worst day of her life.
After the cameras captured their awkward reunion, the crew handed each of them a backpack with "basic survival supplies." Inside, she found: one water bottle, a rusted knife, three protein bars, and what looked suspiciously like half a tent.
"Where's the rest of it?" she asked.
The assistant smiled apologetically. "That's all you get. Teamwork, remember?"
"Teamwork," Summer repeated flatly, glancing at Ethan. "Great. My favorite word."
Ethan shouldered his pack easily. "We should find a spot before sunset."
"We?" she echoed. "I thought this was a solo challenge."
"It's a pair challenge," he said, nodding toward the drone circling above them. "Apparently, we're a team. You and me against the elements."
Summer laughed without humor. "Oh, the elements don't stand a chance."
---
They hiked inland through tangled roots and heavy heat. Mosquitoes hummed around them, and the sound of waves faded into the rustle of palm leaves. The cameras followed, hovering at a polite distance but never far enough.
Summer muttered, "Can't believe I traded a five-star hotel for this."
Ethan glanced at her sideways. "Still afraid of bugs?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Still condescending?"
"Old habits die hard."
"Then maybe they should hurry up and die."
He smiled faintly. Despite himself, he admired her stubbornness. Most celebrities would have complained to production by now. Summer just kept walking, jaw tight, determination radiating off her like heat.
When they reached a small clearing, Ethan dropped his pack. "We can camp here."
Summer wiped sweat from her forehead. "You're the survival expert now?"
"I did a show in Alaska once," he said.
"Oh, excuse me, Bear Grylls."
He smirked. "You're welcome to build your own camp. Somewhere mosquito-free, maybe in your imagination."
She scowled but knelt beside him, spreading the half-tent on the sand. "Fine. But if a crab crawls into my shoes tonight, I'm blaming you."
"Noted."
---
Ethan's POV
As the sun dipped lower, the light turned honey-gold across the beach. Summer's hair caught the glow, and for a moment, he forgot they were surrounded by cameras.
She struggled with the tent poles, mumbling curses under her breath. He finally stepped in, his hands brushing hers as he adjusted the fabric. The brief contact sent an unexpected flicker through him—familiar, unwanted.
She noticed it too; he saw the way her eyes widened, then darted away.
"Don't," she warned softly.
"Don't what?"
"Look at me like that."
He hesitated, then forced a small laugh. "I wasn't looking."
"You were," she said, but her voice lacked conviction.
The tension hung there, fragile and sharp.
A gust of wind snapped the tent upright, breaking the moment.
Summer stepped back, dusting sand off her hands. "There. Our palace."
Ethan glanced at the crooked structure. "Palace might be generous."
She shot him a sideways grin. "It's got personality."
"Like its owner, then."
She blinked, surprised. "Was that a compliment?"
He pretended to check the sky. "Must've been the wind."
She laughed before she could stop herself, a bright, unguarded sound that made something inside him ease. He hadn't heard that laugh in two years.
---
Summer's POV
Night fell quickly. The sky bled into violet, and the ocean reflected the last hints of orange. They sat beside a tiny fire Ethan had somehow coaxed out of damp wood.
For a while, silence stretched between them—not awkward, just… unfamiliar.
She stared at the flames. "So, what's your plan? Survive two weeks, pretend we're friends, then go back to hating each other?"
He poked the fire with a stick. "I don't hate you, Summer."
She looked up, startled by the sincerity in his tone.
He met her gaze, calm and steady. "We broke up. That's not the same thing."
She wanted to argue, but the words wouldn't come.
The waves crashed softly beyond the beach, and the night air grew cooler. Somewhere out there, millions of viewers were probably watching their every move, dissecting every glance. But right now, under the stars, it didn't feel like a show. It felt… real.
Summer sighed and pulled her knees to her chest. "You really think we can make it two weeks without killing each other?"
Ethan smiled faintly. "Depends. Do I get the bigger half of the tent?"
"Absolutely not."
"Then maybe not."
She threw a piece of driftwood at him. He caught it easily, laughing. For the first time since arriving, she felt the tightness in her chest ease.
Maybe this wouldn't be that bad.
Maybe.
But as the camera's red light blinked faintly in the dark, she realized something unsettling—
the real danger wasn't the island.
It was the possibility that, after all this time, she might still care.