Chapter 80: Cabin 4, Night 7
The air in Cabin 4 was different. It didn’t have the predatory charge of Cabin 3 or the simmering resentment of some others. Instead, it hummed with a strange, exhausted empathy. The first trial had left its mark on all of them, but in this room, the wounds felt more shared than competitive.
Briv was slumped on the lower bunk, his head in his hands. The image of Alya, her angelic face flushed with a laugh he hadn’t elicited, leaning into Thomas’s theatrical whisper, was burned onto the back of his eyelids. It was a mutual breakup, he kept reminding himself. They’d said it was for the best, a chance to grow. But seeing her here, so immediately and effortlessly the center of someone else’s attention, felt like a physical blow to his fragile ego.
“You look like you just watched your dog get run over,” Nicoleta’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and amused. She was unpacking a small bag of toiletries with practiced efficiency, her movements economical and sure. She didn’t look at him, but her presence filled the space. Dressed in a tight black tank top and ripped fishnets, she was a splash of midnight in the sun-bleached cabin.
“Leave him alone, Nicoleta,” Carmen said, her voice softer. She was sitting cross-legged on the top bunk opposite, her long limbs folded awkwardly. Her pale skin seemed almost luminous in the fading evening light filtering through the single window. “It’s hard for everyone. Seeing people you… have history with.”
“History,” Nicoleta snorted, placing a vial of dark nail polish on the small shared dresser with a definitive click. “That’s a polite word for it. I saw your ‘history,’ Briv. Pretty little Alya, playing the sensitive soul with that Thomas creep. It’s a classic move. He pretends to care about her dreams, she feels ‘seen,’ and next thing you know, he’s trying to see her without her clothes on. Predictable.”
Briv flinched. “You don’t know that.”
“I know people,” Nicoleta retorted, finally turning to face him. Her dark eyes were like chips of obsidian, missing nothing. “And I know performers. She’s an actress, right? This whole island is her stage now. You’re just part of the old scenery.”
“That’s a shitty thing to say,” Nicola chimed in from the other lower bunk. She was lying on her stomach, chin propped on her hands, observing the exchange with intelligent, calm eyes. Her blonde hair fanned out over the thin pillow. “Maybe she’s just trying to survive, same as the rest of us. Maybe we all are.”
“Surviving is one thing,” Carmen said, her gaze distant. “It’s the pretending that gets to you. I spent the whole trial laughing at Kim’s jokes, pretending I didn’t see how he was manipulating every woman in a five-meter radius. I felt my face hurting from smiling. It’s exhausting.”
Briv looked up, finally lifting his head from his hands. His face was drawn. “Why do we do this to ourselves? We all signed up for this. For what? A cash prize? A minute of fame?”
“For the story,” Nicoleta said simply, a slow, knowing smile spreading across her lips. “For the moments that aren’t pretend. The raw ones. They’re the only things that are real in a place like this.” She looked around the cabin, her gaze lingering on each of them. “We’re stuck in here. The four of us. No cameras right now. No host. No game, for a few hours. This is more real than anything that happened out there today.”
A heavy silence descended, but it was different from the one that had greeted them. It was contemplative, charged with Nicoleta’s implication. They were all isolated from their pasts, thrown into this pressure cooker. The normal rules were suspended. The need for connection, for a touch that wasn’t part of a strategy, was a palpable, aching thing in the room.
Carmen swung her long legs over the side of the bunk and dropped to the floor with a soft thud. She walked over to Briv and sat beside him, the mattress dipping. She didn’t touch him, just sat there, a solid, quiet presence. “She’s not worth this, Briv. Not the way you’re tearing yourself up.”
“It’s not just her,” he mumbled, running a hand through his already messy hair. “It’s me. I see these other guys—Kofi, Joaquin, fucking Thomas—and they just seem so… sure of themselves. And I feel like I’m playing a part I didn’t rehearse.”
“Everyone is,” Nicola said, rolling onto her side to face them. “That’s the secret. Sean acts sure because he’s angry. Kim acts sure because he’s desperate to be liked. Joaquin… well, Joaquin might actually be sure, but he’s an idiot.” This drew a weak, genuine smile from Briv.
Nicoleta watched the scene unfold, her arms crossed. She was the catalyst, and she knew it. “Talking is just another performance. You’re all still performing for each other. The ‘understanding friend,’ the ‘wounded soul.’” She uncrossed her arms and walked to the center of the small floor space, a conductor before her orchestra. “Stop talking.”
She looked at Carmen, then at Briv. “You feel like shit. She feels lonely.” Her eyes flicked to Nicola. “And you’re curious. So be curious.”
The challenge hung in the air. It was reckless, it was impulsive, and it was the most honest thing any of them had said. The atmosphere shifted, thickening with a new kind of tension. It wasn’t the tension of the game, but the simpler, more ancient tension of proximity and shared vulnerability.
Carmen was the first to move. She turned her body fully towards Briv, her knee brushing against his thigh. She looked into his eyes, searching for something, and then she leaned in. It wasn’t a passionate, desperate kiss. It was slow, questioning. A test. Her lips were soft, and she tasted faintly of the tropical fruit punch they’d been given after the trial. Briv froze for a second, the ghost of Alya screaming in his mind, and then he kissed her back. It was clumsy at first, then deeper, a release of all the pent-up frustration and jealousy. His hand came up to cup her jaw, his thumb stroking the pale skin of her cheek.
Nicola watched, her breath catching. This was real. This was the unscripted moment Nicoleta had promised. She slid off her bunk and stood, feeling uncharacteristically hesitant. Nicoleta caught her eye and gave a slight, imperious nod.
Emboldened, Nicola moved to Carmen’s side. She placed a hand on Carmen’s shoulder. Carmen broke the kiss with Briv, her eyes wide and a little dazed, and looked up at Nicola. There was a silent question, and a silent answer. Nicola bent down, her blonde hair falling like a curtain, and kissed Carmen.
It was different from the kiss with Briv. Softer, more exploratory. Their lips moved together with a tentative sweetness that quickly ignited into something more urgent. Carmen’s hands came up to tangle in Nicola’s hair, pulling her closer.
Briv watched, mesmerized. The sight of the two women kissing, the soft sounds they made, sent a jolt of pure, undiluted heat through him. His self-pity evaporated, replaced by a sharp, focused desire. Nicoleta was right. This was real. This was now.
Nicoleta herself finally moved, a smirk of satisfaction playing on her darkly painted lips. She didn’t go to Briv first. She went to Nicola, placing a hand on the small of her back. Nicola broke away from Carmen, her lips swollen, and turned to face the goth influencer. There was no hesitation in Nicoleta’s kiss. It was dominant, demanding. She claimed Nicola’s mouth with a possessiveness that made the blonde woman gasp, her hands gripping Nicoleta’s hips for balance.
Then Nicoleta turned her head, her dark eyes locking with Briv’s over Nicola’s shoulder. She released Nicola and took the two steps needed to close the distance between her and Briv. She didn’t ask. She simply grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him to his feet, and kissed him.
It was nothing like Carmen’s kiss. It was all teeth and tongue and raw power. She tasted of cigarettes and mint, a dangerous, addictive combination. Her body pressed against his was firm and unyielding. One of her hands tangled in his hair, pulling just hard enough to sting, while the other roamed down his back. He kissed her back with a ferocity he didn’t know he possessed, all his insecurity burning away in the furnace of her confidence.
For a few minutes, the cabin was a whirlwind of shifting pairs and tangled limbs. Carmen leaned in to kiss Briv again, her tongue meeting his as Nicoleta’s hands slid under his shirt. Nicola kissed Carmen’s neck from behind while watching Nicoleta and Briv, her hands on Carmen’s waist. Then Nicola turned and found Briv’s lips, her kiss more passionate and skilled than he’d expected, while Carmen’s mouth found Nicoleta’s, a clash of pale innocence and dark experience.
It was a chaotic, beautiful mess. There were no declarations, no promises. It was a circuit of connection, a temporary balm for their isolated souls. The sounds were soft sighs, sharp intakes of breath, and the rustle of clothing against skin.
The momentum finally slowed, not out of awkwardness, but out of a shared, breathless saturation. They broke apart, one by one, their bodies still close, the air between them thick and warm. Their breathing was ragged, their lips bruised and glistening. Clothes were disheveled, hair was mussed.
No one spoke. Words would have shattered the fragile reality they had built. Briv looked at the three women—Carmen with her gentle eyes now dark with desire, Nicola with her intelligent gaze softened by wonder, and Nicoleta, whose smirk had finally softened into something that looked almost like peace.
He didn’t think about Alya. He didn’t think about Thomas or the game or the cameras that would be on them again in the morning. For the first time since arriving on the island, the noisy, jealous static in his head was gone, replaced by a humming, focused silence. The atmosphere in Cabin 4 was no longer one of shared exhaustion. It was something new, something fragile and electric and entirely their own. They had found a temporary truth in each other, and the night, for now, felt limitless.