I like the Wild Card. She’s a welcome surprise to the tedium of reality TV, where nothing is real and where all everyone does is perform for the camera. Sometimes I can’t tell what’s real or not although with Daniela, what you see is what you get. It’s almost like she agreed to come here not to snag herself a billionaire but to have fun.
And she really is quite a woman, willing to try anything new and seeming to be without any fear. It scared me at first, getting her into the water after we kayaked around the Bay yesterday and started using the Seabob units. While there’s no steep learning curve to use one, I’d never thought of the danger for anyone who had no use of their lower body. What if she went too close to the coral and scraped her legs? What if she went too fast and lost her grip? Sure, she told me she swam laps each week but I still couldn’t help but worry. But Daniela proved me wrong when it took her only five minutes to figure out the controls and start zipping over the waves right next to me. And since the Seabob has a safety system that won’t let you go too deep underwater, I couldn’t help but feel so stupidly happy seeing the joy in her eyes as she saw fish, two turtles and even an octopus.
The Flyfish was the biggest surprise. Who knew such a tiny woman had the loudest shriek that could pierce my eardrums? But it happened only once—and for good reason—for I’d have mooned the entire Bay if not for her noticing that the ties to my swim trunks were loose just as the ride started. No wonder she was laughing so hard, and I hope that near mishap will remain our secret.
I’m not ashamed to admit it: I like Daniela Simmons, and I don’t even care if it’s only been the third day since we first met, but I want to get to know her more. I need to. She makes me happy just by being herself. She doesn’t even need any makeup because she’s already beautiful, inside and out. And after our zip-lining adventure today where I found myself grinning from ear to ear whenever she’s nearby, I don’t want to let her go… not when I’m just starting to get to know her.
But I also have a contract to fulfill.
Hours later, I wake up to the sound of people giggling below my balcony. It’s two in the morning and there are people in a private area of the resort—my private area.
I pick up the resort phone to call Security but something makes me stop, and I return the receiver back on its cradle. I’d recognize that giggle anywhere by now. It’s Daniela, though I can’t place who she’s with.
I get up from my bed and peer outside the window, making sure they can’t see me. Daniela and Marilyn are both 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.
I can’t help but smile. Thank you, Marilyn. I owe you one.
“No, stay,” I tell them when they see me enter the pool area, and Marilyn lifts her feet out of the water. “It’s okay. Really.”
“Are you sure?” Daniela asks as Marilyn returns her feet into the water. “We weren’t planning on staying long. I just needed to calm my legs.”
I get down on my haunches and instinctively dip my hand in the water, making sure it’s not too hot. “What about your legs?”
“I just get these spasms sometimes,” Daniela says, rubbing the tops of her thighs as I sit across from them and dip my own feet in the water. “They’re gone now though.”
“I brought something to keep you guys warm if you need them.” I hand them two of my sweatshirts that I managed to grab on my way out, not wanting any of them to get chilled. As they slip them on, they look dwarfed in them but I can’t stop myself from looking at Daniela. I feel like a college boy again, happy to see his crush wear his jersey.
Marilyn reaches lifts the bottle of wine 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 say, shaking my head and she sets the bottle back to the ground. I’m actually a beer man, but right now, I’m also a happy man to see Daniela again.
“Will the camera people be here soon, since you’re out of bed?” Daniela asks, her eyes narrowing.
“Unless they’ve set up cameras in this area against my wishes, no, they won’t. It’s just the three of us.”
“How did you know we were here?” Marilyn asks.
I point to one of the balconies two floors above us. “My suite is right up there.”
They giggle, exchanging glances with each other before Marilyn speaks first. “Oh, my God, we’re so sorry to wake you up! We had no idea your suite was up there. We thought it was one of the conference rooms or something.”
“It looks like it, but it’s where my family stays whenever we’re here. It’s designed to be away from the rest of the resort for that reason.”
“And this pool area?” Daniela asks. “Is this part of the private area, too?”
I nod. “Yes. Technically, you’re both trespassing, but I’m glad you did.”
As I sit across from them, I can’t help but look at Daniela. “How are you?” I ask. “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?”
Daniela shakes her head. “He doesn’t need to—“
“I’d love to,” I reply as Marilyn pulls her feet from the water and gets 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?”
“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, reaching back to smack Marilyn’s leg playfully but she’s too quick. Marilyn skips out of the pool area with a laugh and disappears into the building.
I’m glad that they’ve become friends, though I hate letting Marilyn go tomorrow evening. That would leave Daniela without a friend since I noticed how the three other women stick together like glue, giving Daniela looks that could curdle milk. But there are only so many things within my control and Daniela being friends with the other women is not one of them.
“May I sit next to you?” I ask and Daniela nods. I don’t know why I’m suddenly feeling like a shy schoolboy, but I am. My hands feel clammy, and my heart is beating fast. I wish I had a beer to calm me down, or maybe something stronger, like whiskey.
“Since you’re here, I’d like to thank you for showing me a great time the last two days, even when you didn’t have to,” she says.
“Oh, I wanted to. It was my pleasure,” I say, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “I want you to stay longer.”
There, I finally 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, because I won’t feel a thing,” 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. Even love.
I want something real, like Daniela Simmons.
“I promise you, Daniela, I—”
“No promises,” she says as she rests her finger on my lips. “Let’s just enjoy the evening.”
“Can I kiss you?”
“Me?” She looks at me incredulously.
“Yes, you.”
“Can I ask you something before we do anything else?”
I nod. “Of course. Anything.”
“Did you have… you know, sex with Camille?” She frowns. “Wait! Or was it Bianca?”
I shake my head, chuckling. “You must mean Camille. But no, I didn’t have sex with her.”
“Forget it,” she says, and I see her face turn a bright shade of red. “It’s none of my business what you do. Really.”
“Even it isn’t, I want to set the record straight with you. I didn’t.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Okay, what?” I haven’t forgotten my request for a kiss. In fact, I haven’t worked this hard to get a kiss from a woman, or feel myself feel nervous.
“Yes, you can kiss me,” she whispers as I cradle her face in my hands and lower my face toward hers. I’ve wanted to kiss Daniela since yesterday, when we held onto that Flyfish for dear life, laughing till we cried. And I almost did, leaning toward her as I helped her from the inflatable and back onto the boat. But it would have appeared too impulsive, a moment made especially for TV and ratings, 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, if not more.
There’s something about her that I can’t explain. She makes my heart thunder inside my chest, and even my stomach clenches at the sight of her. And being this close to her… it’s such a strange feeling. But it’s a feeling I want more of.
Her hands rest on my chest, and I wonder if she can feel the loud beating of my heart. I’d kiss her forever if I could and whisk her away and ease the spasms in her legs while I’m at it. But Daniela suddenly pulls away and looks around.
“What’s wrong?”
“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 and folding them to her side. 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. 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 is definitely not approved by the production. Les already dislikes me as it is,” she says, frowning as she looks behind her. “I need to get back in my chair. I need to get back to my suite.”
Her request snaps me back to reality, and I scramble to my feet. “Let me help you.”
Despite her objections, I lift her from the floor and set her down in her chair. I take one of the towels they’ve set next to the bottle and give it to her.
“Let me accompany you to your suite.”
“No, please don’t. I’ll make my way back,” she says, covering her legs with the towel though I help her, and when I touch her legs, they’re cold. She spins the wheelchair away from me. “I need to go. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Daniela, I’m still escorting you back to your room—”
Suddenly, I hear it, and I freeze. She was right. I curse under my breath and look up as the sound comes again. It’s 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. And as I sense movement on the suite next to mine, where I remember Sean is staying, I realize that we probably never were.
When I wake up the next morning, eager to see Daniela again and offer to take her to Soufriere, the world’s only “drive-in” volcano, I find her door wide open. Inside, Les is standing on the balcony, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
“I figured you’d come by and look for her. You two have broken enough rules as it is,” he says before turning to face me.
Though I see that she’s at least slept on her bed, there’s nothing else in the room. “Where is she?”
“She’s headed back home.”
“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 just like that?”
“No, it wasn’t me, Tyler. It was your assistant, Sean. His job is to make sure you abide by the rules just as much as everyone else for the duration of the shoot.”
“So where is she?” I ask, my anger building. I should just leave now and get into my helicopter and head to the airport. Maybe I can still catch up with her.
“She got disqualified because of a technicality.”
“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.
“Oh, my God! What happened here?” Sean asks, pretending to look shocked though he’s far from convincing.
“Daniela got disqualified from the show. Her sister, Tiffany, filled out the application form, and she’s only sixteen,” Les says.
“So?”
“The rules for the Wild Card drawing were explicit,” Les replies smugly. “No misrepresentation, and no one under eighteen entering the contest. And that’s exactly what happened.”
“I can’t believe this,” I mutter, raking my fingers through my hair.
“No, I can’t believe you’re willing to let everything go for one woman after only three days of knowing her!” Les exclaims. “I would have thought you’d have more sense, Tyler. You’ve got an amazing line-up to choose from right here, and even the viewers can see just who your perfect match is! Why can’t you?”
“Because it’s not real, Les. Nothing in this show is real. You and your damn edit button manipulate our words to suit your show’s ratings,” I retort. “So what if I’ve only known Daniela for three days? What I do know is I want to get to know her better.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen in this show, Tyler, not when the viewers have voted that it’s between Bianca and Camille. And don’t forget that you agreed to do this so if you forfeit for any reason other than some natural calamity or death, you’ll lose more than your Prince Charming reputation,” Les says as the camera crew arrives in time to save me from saying anything I would have regretted.
But he’s right; I did sign the damn contract to be the man of the hour, and if there’s one thing I am, I am a man of my word even if all I want to do right now is go after Daniela and bring her back to the resort.
Behind the camera crew that begin to fill up the room, Bianca, Camille, and Presley follow, 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, hoping to retreat into my office and make some calls.
“Three,” Les replies, and I stop as I reach the door.
I turn to face him. “Where’s Marilyn?”
Les rolls his eyes. “Who cares? She insulted me, and so I had to disqualify her. She and Miss Simmons have been trouble from the moment they got togeher.”
“What does that mean?”
Les looks at me smugly and I hate that I already know what he’s about to say. “They both got kicked out of the show… together.”