The Consequence of Revenge

And I didn’t.

I rubbed my chest. I admired everything about her and even though I had a lot of money and what people would probably assume was a lot to offer, I didn’t feel good enough for her. At all.

We only had eleven days left . . . so we were close to halfway. But rather than feel relieved, I was panicked because in eleven days I wasn’t going to be seeing her daily.

Rex cleared his throat. “Max? I asked you a question.”

My confessionals were every morning at seven. I hated freaking seven a.m. I glared at the camera. “Care to repeat it?”

“Sure.” I wasn’t his biggest fan, and I’m pretty sure he regretted casting me after my very first confessional, where I asked him how to get a spray tan on Love Island.

“Eight girls left . . .” Rex gleamed. “Falling for any of them?”

I cleared my throat and looked down. “A few. Then again, I fell for that goat that hung out by my hut too, so who knows.”

His teeth clenched so hard I was surprised a crown didn’t come flying out of his mouth and smack me in the face.

“Max.” Rex chuckled. “Here on the show we’re firm believers in allowing family to help us . . . make those tough decisions in life. Wouldn’t you agree it’s helpful having friends and family around?”

My eyes narrowed. “Yes?”

“We thought so. And so did they!”

Wait, what?

I heard shouting.

And when I turned around I experienced a full-on panic attack as Jason, Milo, and Colt stepped off of a boat and ran down the dock toward me.

“Son of a bitch,” I mumbled.

“Surprise!” Reid said from beside me.

I glared.

Little G poked his head out of my pocket; I shoved him back in, nobody needed to see what was about to take place. Because if I knew my friends, they weren’t going to make these last eleven days easy. They wanted to win their damn bets, and they wanted me to finally get my head out of my ass, by any means possible. I was pretty confident they didn’t really think any sort of law applied to them, and the thought of prison clearly wasn’t a deterrent if our past circumstances were any indication.

Milo had been sending me job applications via e-mail for the past month.

Jason had been worse, actually setting me up on a job interview, which I’d thought was a date. Let’s just say I didn’t get the job, especially since I told the lady interviewing me that I liked the way her dress hugged her hips. How the hell was I supposed to know I was interviewing to be the new HR manager for a hotel chain?

My friends were ruthless.

Which meant only one thing.

Becca was going to see the real Max, all right, because they brought out the worst in me, and she would either run screaming in the other direction or find me endearing.

My money?

Was on the screaming.

“Max!” Jason was the first to reach me. He held out his arms, and I seriously contemplated gut-punching him but hugged him instead and may or may not have wrapped my leg around his waist and grabbed his ass.

“Hate you,” I whispered in his ear.

“Love me.” He jerked away from me and laughed. “Besides, Reid’s been saying you’ve . . . found . . . someone.”

“Oh.” I nodded. “Little G, he’s cool.” I pulled him out of my pocket and showed everyone.

“He has no tail,” Milo pointed out, clearly unaware that Little G had recently suffered a trauma to his little body via Hades chasing him. She tilted her head in my direction. “You look awful happy for being so against doing the show.”

Ignoring her, I shoved the little guy back in my pocket. “Don’t be so insensitive, Milo! God, not all animals can have tails! All right? Just drop it!”

“You a little tense?” Colt smirked.

“I’m totally and completely in control.” I managed a very tight shrug.

And then Becca walked by.

And my heart did that irritating little flip thing where it starts beating really fast. Even Little G started squirming in my pocket.

“That her?” Milo whispered to Reid.

“Only one way to find out.” Jason looked at all of us, then jogged in her direction.

“Noooo!” I ran after Jason and tackled him to the ground, thankfully not squishing Little G in the process.

“What the hell, man?” Jason swore from underneath me.

“Sorry.” I quickly got off of him. “Island fever makes people”—I coughed—“weird.”

“I’ll say.” Colt eyed me up and down. “What the hell’s wrong with you, Max?”

“He has no underwear.” This from Reid.

“Helpful.” I glared. “Thank you.”

Milo squinted. “Why don’t you have underwear?”

“Oh”—I shrugged—“Hades ate it.”

Milo’s face fell. “Max, you know I love you, but do you think you’ve been on this island maybe . . . too long?” She gave my arm a little squeeze.

“He’s real!” I argued. “He’s in my room! In the corner!”

“Aw, champ.” Colt shook his head. “We had no idea this show would cause you to go insane.”

“I’ll prove it!”

Reid crossed his arms, his brows knitting together in concern. “Should you maybe ask Poseidon if it’s okay? Since we’re standing by the ocean and all?”