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I hate him. I hate him so much. I hate his breathy laugh. I hate his gangling arms. I hate his too big ears. I hate his toothy smile. I hate his brazenness. I hate the audacity, the gaul and the fucking balls on him to even be here. I can’t stand him. I can feel when he’s near, there’s a buzz in the air that's so particular. He has a hanging presence, like I’m being haunted when I know that I’m truly being hunted. He tells me he’s a fan, but I can sense something under his awkward, bumbling words. Some sort of desire. Like a snake ready to strike. I hate the way he watches us, with a sort of awe. With a calculation. I hate that I truly know nothing about him. I hate that I want to.
I can sense a betrayal in him. I feel like he would, in fact, I know he would. He did to his number one ally what Maria did to me. On Survivor, people always placate themselves by saying that it’s “just a game.” Just a game? Just? Is one million dollars just? Is having recognition and fame for the rest of your life just? Having your name on millions of people’s lips around the world is just? I don’t think it is. Maria felt like a best friend to me. Living in these conditions, spending 24/7 with these people, you come out knowing them better than those you’ve known for years. If my best friend was sitting in front of me, and I handed someone else one million fucking dollars because they “technically” played a better “game”, they would never forgive me. So yes, it really is that dramatic.
The "talent show" is happening. Rizo is doing a Mickey Mouse impression, an arm slung around Rick Devens' back. Everyone is amused, because of course they are. Before we came out here, I thought we had all decided that he was enemy number one. An annoying kid with no respect for what this show is about. Someone just trying to get famous. Everyone is so quickly charmed by him, they are drawn into his orbit with one dopey smile. It’s so fucking easy for him. He doesn’t have to try, and what are supposed to be some of the smartest strategists on this show are so endeared to him that they seem to be forgetting what a danger he is. That’s his fucking method. Who needs to be smart or strong or strategic when you can just be naturally loved. It’s so goddamn annoying.
I laugh along. I play the part. I wish it were more of a difficult part to play. Jonathan and I play fight on the ground. I react when he pretends to hit me. I hear Rizo laugh in the background. I can see his smile in my prefiere, genuine, that fucker. And he wins the talent show. Because of course he does.
I can’t be actually upset about this, I know this is ridiculous, but I can’t help it. I think I’m more irritated that he’s making me feel this, that he’s making me angry, that he’s distracting me from what’s important by having to tamp down my emotions to save face.
Later in the day, Dee and Devens sit off on the beach staring at the gleaming waves. I keep a note of it, that they’re alone together, talking, maybe not about the game but my paranoia is already rampant more than a week into this. There’s nothing I can do about it now. Jonathan is deep in the waters, attempting to catch fish with I guess his bare hands. Whatever he needs to do to pass the time, I guess. The rest of us sit around the fire, picking at food and making passing comments as we dig our hands into the sand, rough wood digging into my ass and smoke getting into my eyes. The cameras aren’t on us, but there are producers milling about, waiting idly in case one of us does something interesting. I try to listen to the conversation without visible disdain on my face.
“I actually never got sick of the coconut. I don't know what it is. I might be the only guy who can really just survive on coconut,” Rizo says gleefully to Cirie, Kamilia and me, taking a bite of the aforementioned fruit. Fucking asshole.
“Baby, I don't know where all this energy comes from but I’m gonna need you to fork some over,” says Cirie between bites. Kamilia and Rizo laugh so I laugh too. Because I’m totally normal.
“You can have it,” he says, mouth full, wiping the juice dripping down from his chin with mirth. Christ.
“I could never stand it by itself. Just tastes like shampoo,” Kamilia says, making a face as she tries to force more down.
“Y’all say there’s really nothing else to eat on this beach?” asks Cirie.
“Crabs, if you can catch them. Not much edible fauna to speak of though,” I reply, obligatorily adding to the conversation.
“Jonathan sure seems to be trying,” says Kamilia, peeking her head up slightly to watch Jonathan's feet pop into the air briefly as he dives down.
“Trying something,” Cirie says dismissively.
We chuckle lightly and fall into a beat of silence, listening to the waves beat the shore at nauseam. It is of course quickly interrupted.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been on this beach in particular. Maybe there’s something we could find. Another fruit tree or something,” Rizo says excitedly.
“Not a bad idea,” Kamilia says casually, but takes no move to stand, continuing to eat her shampoo. Rizo, plan being set in motion, stands quickly and slings his water bottle onto his shoulder, then looks directly at me.
“You wanna come, Charlie?” he asks.
I want to say “No, Rizo. I very much so do not want to come with you. In fact there’s almost anything I’d like to do other than spend time alone with you,” but I don’t in the presence of Cirie and Kamilia, who are paying us very little mind. Instead, through gritted teeth, I respond-
“Sure,” as I take his outstretched hand and let him pull me to stand.
We’re walking somewhat aimlessly through the woods, the day is growing long and everytime we pass through a patch of sun I can feel its threatening burn. The cameras followed up briefly to catch B-roll, but quickly realized that we were primarily walking in silence and let us continue on our lonesome. Occasionally, Rizo will pick at a plant in the ground or poke at a tree's leaves, like he has any idea what he’s looking for at all. I think he might be trying to fuck with me at this point. I don’t know why I’m putting up with it.
“What is it you think you’re going to find exactly?” I ask.
“I don’t know, something. Maybe some tubers,” he says, lazily poking at the ground with a stick.
“And if we were to stumble across a mystical patch of radishes would you even know what you were looking at?” I ask, trying and failing to not sound caustistic. It doesn't affect him, he shrugs non-committedly, a calm expression on his face.
“I’d know onions,” he says.
“Right, well you can enjoy your imaginary white onion and coconut stew. I’m sweating my balls off,” I say, turning to walk off the beaten path we’ve found ourselves on and back towards camp.
“Hey,” he says, grabbing my arm, stopping my motion, “I’m a red onion guy.”
I roll my eyes heavily, taking only a second to feel the heat of his skin on mine before shaking him off.
“Of course you are,” I say, trying again to walk away. I here his feet shuffle to keep up behind me.
“Okay, okay. Just- can I ask you something?” he asks, touching me again. I move from his grasp once more. This has got to be good.
“I guess I can’t stop you,” I say, eyebrow cocked, arms crossed, exasperation leaking off of me.
“What is your problem with me?” he asks, barely containing the most shit eating grin I’ve ever seen on another person.
I gape at him for a moment, a tropical bird squawks above us. The thick leaves of the overbrush create strange shadows on his annoying face. My problem? Like it shouldn’t be fucking obvious. I take a short breath in, calculating my words carefully.
“Are you being serious right now, Rizo?” I ask, knowing the answer is almost definitively, no.
“Yeah man, I get the vibe that I’ve pissed you off somehow. And I know I haven’t said your name, so if anyone told you that, they’re lying. You keep looking at me like I kicked your dog,” he says, some of the facade falling as he speaks.
“No, I don’t think you have. But I think you will,” I say, looking at him measuredly.
“I don’t have any intention to,” he says, confusion coloring his features.
“Is that what you said to Sophie too?” I ask, and the smile completely falls from his face, his brow furrowing.
“Sophie? What are you talking about?” he asks.
“Your number one ally Rizo, the one that made it to the end and you didn’t vote for? How the hell am I supposed to trust you?” I ask. He takes a second, his face curling into a different type of smile, something a little crueler.
“Are you joking? First of all, Savannah was my friend too. Not that that matters now, but it’s true. She played a better game. That's the end of it. She won. My vote wouldn’t have made a difference anyways. You weren’t even there. You didn’t even see it,” he says, incredulously.
“That- that shouldn’t matter. It’s the principle of the thing. When was the last time you talked to Sophie?” I ask, throwing his own question back at him. I’m getting heated now, pointing towards his chest with aggression I wish I had the wherewithal to contain.
“Dude, like right before I came here. We hang out like all the time,” he says too cooly, raising his hand in defiance to the question.
I feel the anger fuzzing my thoughts, the air around me like a live wire. I feel myself flush red, he’s trying to make an idiot out of me. If I were talking to anyone else, I’d be worried that I’m tanking my game, but Rizo can’t actually have any influence in this game right?
“Well, I just can’t trust you,” I say, flustered. He looks at me strangely.
“Alright then, Charlie. But just so you know, I’d still love to work with you,” he says in a way that feels genuine but I can’t believe. He maintains eye contact with me for a long beat, boring into the back of my head. I look askance with a vengeance. This conversation is getting to be too much.
“Fine then,” I say shortly. “Let’s just go back. We’re getting suspicious.”
“Sure, if that’s what you call it,” I hear him mutter behind me as I walk ahead of him. I ignore him. He follows.
We walk in silence for a few minutes. It is supremely awkward. I can’t stand how straight forward he’s acting about this. His loud, lumbering steps behind me scratch into my ears like twisting styrofoam. I feel the heat of him. The squeak of his voice. The curve and his nose and the sharpness of his jaw. As we shamble on, there’s a gnawing part of me that thinks I may have overreacted. That I’m being shallow, perhaps petty. I think this for just a moment until he decides to speak again.
“Fuck it,” he says before stopping in his tracks. He waits for me to turn around and look at him.
“What?” I ask, exhausted at this point, wanting to return to the rest of the group and forget this happened.
“You know what Charlie, I was so excited to meet you. I know we all bring baggage into this game, that’s kind of the whole point of having us back. I guess I just didn’t expect you to be such a bitch about it,” he says, without abandon and with a levity that sends me over the edge.
In an instant, any calm that has returned into my body has left, leaving me cold, empty and with only instinct to guide me. There is a whirring in my ears and my expression falls. I don’t think.
I close the gap between us with three fast paces. I punch him directly in the nose.
He stumbles back, bumping into a nearby tree, bracing his hands against the smooth bark. Blood begins to drip from his nose, staining his pale skin. His eyes are wide with shock for a split second. He’s crouched down, legs bent but gaze up, looking ready to pounce. In that second, my heart falls to my stomach. I may have not only ruined my Survivor career, but my entire public reputation. All of the blood in my body rushes to my fist, now stained red, my hand shakes. All in an instant, I realize what an asshole I’ve been. I’ve never been this person, and I can’t begin to know why Rizo of all people has brought this out of me.
I go pale, and just stare at him. We hold eye contact for a torturous moment. A million fears swirl through my mind, most pressing being if I’ve broken his nose. I wait for him to run. I wait for him to yell. I wait for him to punch me back. He does none of that. Instead, when the shock wears off, he wipes the blood on the back of his hand, he straightens himself, and sends me the most disbelieving and mischievous grin.
He lunges at me, and apparently my self preservation has gone the way of my sanity because I simply go limp. He grabs me by my collar and pulls me back into him, his back hitting the tree. The tall grass tickles our ankles. I wait for pain, but am infinitely more surprised when his broken nose is pressed into my cheek as he kisses me.
I freeze for a moment, not at all being able to intellectualize what’s happening. Maybe that’s my issue. My eyes flutter closed half a second behind his. His lips move against mine, and though I am stiff for a second, my body moves before my brain has any say in the matter.
I let out an embarrassing noise when I catch up to what’s going on. I kiss him back, for some unknown reason. One of my hands moves to his waist, fisting the material of his shirt, pulling his body flush to mine. The other slides into his hair, finding purchase in something to hold onto. He shoves his tongue against my lips and gasps as my mouth opens for him. It’s messy, and aggressive. Our teeth knock and pull at each other's lips. We breathe into each other's mouths and hold each other tight enough to bruise. His hand finds my ass and pulls me into him. I fail to stifle a moan, our bodies slot into each other and move accordingly. Our tongues knock together. My body weight is almost fully pinning him to the tree as our lips move wet against each other.
It seems to last forever, making out with my sworn enemy, but it ends almost as quickly as it began as we pull away from each other for breath. My eyebrows have shot up as high as they can go, my mouth is slack like a fish. Our chests move up and down against each other as we pant for breath. We gaze at each other, eyes moving quickly around our faces, flickering. He’s still got a hand on my collar, on my ass. I’m still gripping his hip firm, my hand falls from his hair limply to his shoulder. He smiles wide and tooth filled, roguish, because of course he does. He brings his hand from my collar and pats me lightly on the cheek twice.
“Yeah, this is gonna be fun,” he says waggishly.
He lets go of me suddenly and slips from my grasp. I stand still and speechless as he continues to walk down the path as if nothing has happened, not even looking back. I watch him for a moment, slack jawed and sputtering. The birds chirp and the bugs buzz around me and the forest remains just as it was before, but it feels so, so different. I wake from my haze and stumble to catch up with him. He moves quickly back towards camp, concerningly so. I stay a half step behind him, eyes wide and pointed downward, trying to make sense of what just happened. Every glimpse I catch of his face is smiling softly and unaffected, somehow.
We’re about to enter camp, to become visible to cameras and teammates alike. I want to say something, to ask one million things, but no words can leave my mouth. I am truly dazed, and I guess resigning to the fact that my fate is in his hands. On the precipice, just as we can hear the other's voices again, he turns to look at me, finally.
“Let me do the talking,” he says with a confidence. I look back at him dumbly.
“You- you’re bleeding,” is all I can manage to choke out. He grins, and pokes his tongue from his mouth to swipe away some blood that has fallen to his lip. Kill me now.
“Yeah, thanks for that,” he says. I send him a look that must be so tortured, and he laughs. “Don’t worry. You’re just gonna have to trust me now, unless you want any of this spreading around camp.”
I exhale shakily, almost a laugh, and nod. He gives me a sideways smirk, pats me on the head, honest to god winks at me, and saunters into camp ahead of me. I follow.
It’s a whole drama when we return. Rizo spins a fantastical story of seeing an apple high up in a tree, reaching for it, and smashing his face on the way down. People look to me for confirmation, and I give what must seem like strange, confirming one word answers. They seem to be satisfied regardless. Everyone crowds us in concern but are quickly quelled by Rizo’s unbothered affect.
“I don’t think apples are native to Fiji,” says Cirie with amusement, as she examines him.
“I saw one! I swear!” Rizo responds, so quick on his feet, ready to act up a storm at a moment's notice. This sends ripples of disbelieving laughs through the crowd. Exactly the reaction he wants.
The producers are loving this, catching every ridiculous line on camera. The medical team gives him a quick once over, confirming that his nose is in fact broken, but that it should have no effect on his ability to continue in the game. Sat on a log, the doctor evens his face between his hands, takes his nose, and snaps it back into place with a crack. The noise flattens my blood and sends rolls of guilt up my spine making me feel sick. He curses, but recovers quickly, quipping to the crowd, asking if he’s still pretty, knowing damn well that he is.
They cover his nose with a small bandage and deem him essentially fine. This doesn’t stop the bile rising in my mouth as I watch him sit slightly bruised and bloody, being doted upon by our teammates. I try to keep my face normal as I watch on, it bends with concern and guilt and a secret third thing. It’s somehow made worse knowing that he’s having the time of his life right now. I can’t keep my eyes off of him, he’s magnanimous. Goddammit.
“You’ve got blood on your face,” says Devens, who appears next to me suddenly, shocking me out of my trance, making me jump.
“Jesus,” I say as an exhale, placing a hand on my chest, looking around, making sure I’m not missing any more of my surroundings. But it’s just Rick, looking at me with a knowing smile that scares me. He hands me a rag.
“Where?” I ask in a whisper, turning my head away from the cameras. He points lightly to his cheek. I wipe it away sheepish and frantic.
“I don’t know what the hell happened out there but I doubt it has anything to do with an apple,” he says, grinning sideways but looking ahead with me at the scene playing out in front of us.
“Shut up,” I say too fast and with no fervour. He laughs and delivers a friendly punch to my side.
“Save it for the reunion then,” he says. He walks off to join the group, leaving me on the periferie.
I watch Rizo as he sits with our group around the fire, as he bends the air around him, making others laugh and pulling them into his orbit. My thoughts travel through my head like comets, ever present but too fast to get the details, simply causing a haze in the sky. I feel like I’ve just been born, like I’ve traveled through time by how much has changed over the course of the last hour. He catches me watching him, meeting my gaze. He smiles warmly through the chatter gathering around him. I take a deep breath and roll my eyes. I smile back.