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Instead of friends, I had acquaintances from work and in my pack, but those were all surface-level relationships. My mind had been so consumed with keeping people out and suppressing my wolf that I’d inadvertently isolated myself from everyone.
Noticing that I’d fallen deep into my thoughts, Chelsey leaned forward. “Sorry, did I make this weird?” She chuckled. “I can come off as intense sometimes. People say I’m intimidating. Maybe it’s because I say what I think. I don’t have a big filter, I guess.”
I blinked, shaking away the self-analysis. “No, it’s fine. Seriously. I didn’t mind.”
“I do think we can be friends. Do you?”
“Yes, I think so. I like you, Chelsey. Though, we may not be friends for long. Not the way this show works. We could die any day in one of these dumb challenges.”
“True,” Chelsey said. “Very true. Even then, we can at least have each other’s backs until, um, the inevitable happens. Right?”
This woman was going through something as awful as I was. Of all the people in the world, she was the one I should be able to confide in the most. Maybe laying all the dirt out for her would help us becomerealfriends and strengthen this alliance or whatever it was we were building between us.
I glanced over my shoulder at the minibar. There were some snacks left, the rest of the red wine, and an unopened bottle of white wine. I needed something with a little more kick.
Looking back at Chelsey, I raised an eyebrow. “Do you like whisky?”
“Um, I, uh… I don’t know if I’ve ever tried it.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “Well, we need to fucking fix that right now. Come on.” I took her hand and tugged her to the door. I was still just wearing my robe, but I didn’t give a damn.
“Where are we going?”
“You said you wanted to be friends,” I said. “One of the things friends do is get drunk and tell stories. Plus, I can’t call myself a true friend if I let you get off this island without drinking whisky on the rocks. Let’s go.”
Chelsey looked aghast and tugged on me, keeping me from dragging her out the door. “Won’t Von or someone from the show be mad we’re out running around this late?”
I grinned and looked her dead in the eyes. “Maybe. Fuck ’em.”
She stared back at me, shocked at first, but then the worry vanished, replaced with an angry smile. “Yeah,” she said with feeling. “Fuck ’em.”
Laughing, I pulled her out the door and headed for the main dining area. The bar there was stocked with all the good stuff. It would be great to get hammered onThe Reject Project’s dime.
“Where are we going?” Chelsey whispered as we hurried down the stairs.
“Hush. We’re doing something bad, but who cares?”
Off to the side of the dining room area was a bar with emerald-green tile, brass fixtures, and an oiled mahogany bar top. Several shelves of bottles lined the wall behind it.
“Oh, I see,” Chelsey said.
I grabbed a bottle of whisky from the top shelf and poured a glass half full, then put some ice into it from the ice maker under the counter.
“Here you go,” I said, sliding the glass toward her.
She sipped at it, and her eyes bulged. She coughed and swallowed a few times. “That’s… really something.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah. It’s a bit of an acquired taste, but so is pretty much all of this stuff.” I swept a hand to the shelves.
The house was silent. All the staff members must either be in bed or editing footage. Von was probably in his room, fucking and eating someone. I shivered at the thought. Our bracelets weren’t glowing green, so we weren’t being filmed.
“Let’s head back to the room,” I said. “We can talk in peace there. What else do you wanna bring?”
Chelsey glanced at the shelves and shrugged. “Um, I’ve never tried gin before, either. I’m more of a wine and beer person.”
“Gin it is,” I said, tucking a bottle under my arm along with the whisky. “Come on.”
By the time we were back in my room, Chelsey had finished her whisky and was sipping on a gin and tonic.
