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@LosttoLust: @TeaganTrain F*$& the net . . . I’ll play the tree!
@BeamMeUpTeagan: Hopefully, she gets back up there . . .
@Deathtothesystem: She’s a drama queen!
Early morning sunlight streams through the small cracks in the straw . . . or whatever this place is made of.
I left the makeshift windows open last night, opting to use the mosquito net. The entire place needed airing out, or there was no chance of me getting any shut-eye.
It’s not overly warm, thankfully, but I’m used to the air conditioner in my apartment, so sleep didn’t come very easily for a host of reasons, including the fear of being murdered out here.
Too many nights were spent watching true crime documentaries, and now I have an overactive imagination. Every sound had me clutching the threadbare sheets and pulling them up to my chin. At this rate, I might never sleep.
As I stretch my hands over my head, I realize just how much I tossed and turned in the little sleep I did manage, because my neck is stiff and my back aches. A typical casualty of traveling. Stifling a yawn, I move to get out of bed.
My bare feet hit the warm and sticky wood floors as I force myself to get moving. I need to search for coffee, stat.
The hut isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. It has running water, a bathroom that flushes, and electricity. It works. The greatest flaw? No coffee machine.
I hope the huts the actors are staying in have more amenities. Otherwise, the list of grievances I’m sure to hear about today might bury me. It won’t even be Teagan doing the complaining. Her mother, Theresa, is the worst kind of momager. She’s horrible to deal with on a normal basis. This experience is sure to bring out the worst in her.
Walking to the bathroom, I turn on the faucet. It sputters alive. Well, I guess not the best plumbing, but again, it works.
I’ll take it.
Slashing water on my face, I make quick work of ridding myself of the remaining dregs of sleep and the grime I accumulated overnight.
My morning routine is simple. I get by with the basics: teeth brushed, bladder emptied, and dressed to attack the day.
Once I throw on a pair of black leggings and a T-shirt, I make my way outside and follow the path to where everyone gathered yesterday.
I’m not exactly sure that’s where I’m supposed to be going, but seeing as I’ve been given little to no information and have yet to connect with Teagan, I’ll stick to what I do know.
I follow the small empty passageway through the trees. It winds around almost like a maze, and I’m officially lost. I didn’t see that as a possibility, considering the island looked small from the water. With no other option, I keep walking and eventually stumble upon another clearing.
This is much larger than the one from last night.
It’s large enough to build a decent-sized hotel in this spot, and it makes me wonder about the island. Who owns it, and why haven’t they considered building it up? It’s a beautiful space.
In the center of the clearing, craft services have set up a food buffet, and my stomach rumbles in response.
I let out a long-drawn-out exhale, grateful for small indulgences.
The smell of coffee permeates the air, and my body shivers with delight. I’m practically running to the table when I hear my name called out.
Dammit.
I turn to look over my shoulder, and from the edge of a different path than the one I traversed, Teagan is waving her hands frantically at me.
“You’re really here.” She’s practically screaming, and several heads turn to see what the ruckus is about.
Despite my desperation for coffee, I make my way toward her.
“I told you I’d come.”
She pulls me into a hug, squeezing harder than I’d think possible from a girl so tiny.
Pulling back, she stares into my eyes, smiling wide. “And I told you it wasn’t necessary.”
“Well, your mother disagreed.”
She practically growls at the mention of her mom, which wouldn’t be the first time she’s shown her lack of interest in having the woman around.
“You should have let me handle Theresa.”
I place a hand on her shoulder, squeezing in reassurance. I don’t want her to think that I’m inconvenienced. I am, but that’s not something she needs to worry about. I’m here now, and I came to help.
“It’s okay, Teagan. I understand why she was so frantic.” I glance around the area, realizing, not for the first time, how unconventional of a set this is.
“She’s dramatic. I’m fine.”
My head tilts as I take her in. She looks tired and pale. Not the picture of health and vitality someone so young and on top of the world should appear.
“She’s concerned you’re going to throw in the towel.”
“No . . . she’s concerned about losing money.”
