The Contestant. Stephanie Doyle

if she wants to be,” Tommy snapped, more to buck Reuben than to support Talia, she knew.

      Reuben’s eyes didn’t leave her face when he said, “Whatever.” He stood and addressed the group. “Game’s over. I suggest we try to get some sleep.”

      Talia stood, too, and considered pursuing him for an answer as to why he was so adamant that she couldn’t be an accountant. Just because she was on a reality show didn’t mean she didn’t have a serious life with a very serious career waiting for her back home. Exactly what she’d planned from the moment she’d finished her last dive. Her father’s predicament was only postponing it.

      But by the time she made her way to the pseudo-bed, Reuben was already stretched out at the edge of the primitive futon, using his backpack as a headrest. His arms were crossed over his chest, his eyes were closed. He was clearly done talking for the night.

      Everyone else made their way onto the mat, also, people shifting and struggling to get comfortable, using their T-shirts and packs as cushions and blankets. Talia stared down at the small space left to her and considered how bad the sand mites really could be.

      Then Reuben’s eyes opened, peering through the darkness directly at her. He uncrossed his arms and patted the space next to him in a blatant invitation.

      Lying down with bugs or a snake?

      It was definitely a tough call. But she rationalized her decision with the knowledge that she had no fear of snakes. At least one she was pretty sure wouldn’t bite her in front of the group.

      Stepping over his body, Talia settled down between him and Gus and heard what could only be described as a sigh of deep satisfaction. It hadn’t come from Gus.

      Bastard.