Wild About You

Chapter Seventeen

Life is just a little too good when I wake the next morning, wrapped up in Finn like we’re a couple of curly fries fused together by the deep fryer. The night stayed giddy and breathless and oh so romantic as we laughed and speed-walked our way back to our suite and spent the rest of our waking and sleeping hours together. We kissed and cuddled for hours in my big hotel bed, both in our pajamas, all my makeup washed off. We’d brushed our teeth side by side, and for the first time in my life, I felt the temptation to kiss someone with a mouth full of toothpaste foam. I disgust myself. And when eventually the passionate makeouts turned to soft pecks, tender touches, and long, sleepy eye contact, we curled into one another and drifted off.

It’s felt like we’re in a suspended reality, here at this resort I could never afford, only a short drive away from the trail we’ve been on but mentally in a different world. Of course, I can’t completely shut off the voice in my head wondering if this is going to backfire, if Finn will wake up this morning regretting it, if he’s only into me because I’m the only option around, if taking our relationship to this new level will distract us from the competition, and a million other things. But I try to tell her to pipe down for now—to not bother me while I’m on my vacation, and I’ll get back to her in a matter of hours when we return to the AT.

All I’ve wanted to focus on is how incredible it feels to lose myself in Finn’s arms, to experience this kind of closeness and intimacy with another person. And as glorious and intoxicating as it was to explore each other and feel his hands and lips roam all over and let my own do the same to him, it was somehow just as wonderful when we slowed down. Every bit as dreamy lying next to him, sharing a pillow even though there are five more in the bed going unused.

So it’s only restoring some balance to the world when I drag myself out of bed and stumble to the bathroom, and before I can even wipe the tired, goofy smile off my face, I realize that I’ve started my period.

Mother Nature, you petty bitch.

She doesn’t really visit me monthly—hasn’t done so consistently since I was sixteen and started birth control. More often, it’s every two or three months, and by my calculations, I figured I was safe enough to not pack tampons for Wild Adventures. Of course that was a mistake.

“Uuuuugghhh,” I groan, forgetting there’s another human not far from the other side of the bathroom door. A human I only recently started kissing.

“Everything okay in there?” comes Finn’s scratchy morning voice, sounding like he isn’t out of bed yet. And now might stay there forever, afraid of whatever Situation I’m having on the toilet. Wonderful! Could I be any more alluring?

“Fine! I’m fine. Stay where you are.” Okay, now it definitely sounds like something horrifying’s going down in here. There are times it would behoove me to be less dramatic.

I craft the makeshift toilet paper pad all period-havers learned in middle school before heading out to wash my hands in the sink—and face the hot guy who is probably no longer interested in me, now knowing I have bodily functions.

“Everything is actually fine,” I reiterate as I towel my hands dry and turn to face Finn, who sits up in the bed looking sleep-rumpled and absolutely gorgeous, if a little concerned for my bowels. I put my hands on my hips, a power pose for the news I’m about to deliver. “I started my period.”

Finn’s face clears with relief for a moment, then takes on a look that’s more sympathetic than anything. “Oh. Well, that sucks. Can I get you anything?”

My shoulders, which I didn’t even realize were tensed, relax and my hands fall to my sides. Of course he passed the test he didn’t know he was taking, and didn’t get weird upon mention of the p-word. Of course I shouldn’t expect any guy to, given that it’s not the 1950s and we don’t have to hide our “monthly visitor” like a scandalous secret anymore (even if some politicians live in denial of such truths).

“It’s fine.” I shake my head and cross my arms over my stomach.

“So you said.” Finn’s mouth ticks up in one corner as he continues to watch me.

I roll my eyes and force myself to move toward my backpack in the corner, to look like I have a purpose other than standing in the middle of the room feeling awkward. Why do I feel so awkward? “Because it is! I’ll just see if we can, like, stop by a drugstore on the way back to filming. I didn’t come prepared for this. But I’m gonna shower now and get ready to go and it’ll be—”

“Fine?” There’s humor in his voice, and I consider throwing a hiking boot at him.

“Exactly,” I say instead, then gather my change of clothes in my arms and stomp off to lock myself in the bathroom.

As I bask once again in the utter bliss that is a hot shower, I try to examine my weird feelings. Has getting my period just thrown everything out of whack? Is this the hormones talking? Or am I having regrets about kissing Finn? With how happy I felt waking up with him, I can’t even lie to myself about wishing it hadn’t all happened. But should I have taken it slower, not pounced on him the way I did? Is he having regrets? Is this going to make everything weird for the rest of the competition? Either with tension because we like each other, or tension because we actually don’t and just had a moment of weak impulsivity?

So much for shutting the inner voice down. That bitch is noisy. My chest tightens, and I’m so busy running through the zillions of questions, possibilities, what-ifs, that I can’t even make myself step back and examine how I really feel. My mind is still muddled and messy as I stop the shower, towel myself off, and get dressed for the day—turning back into a leggings-clad pumpkin now that midnight has struck and the ball is over. Will Finn still look like Prince Charming by the light of day?

When I reemerge into the bedroom, I get my answer. Not by looking at the guy in person, as he isn’t there—probably getting ready in his own room, if I had to guess. But sometime while I was showering, he left me a present, now laid out on the bed we slept in. Inside the bag from the hotel gift shop, there’s a travel-sized pack of pads, one box of tampons, and a little bag of sour gummies. Beside the items is a note scrawled on hotel stationery.

N—

I know everything’s fine, but I thought this could help until we get to go to a drugstore. Sorry if the candy is a cliché—I won’t be offended if you don’t eat them, but you said you always choose sour over chocolate. You also don’t have to use any of it. Just wanted you to have it in case.

—F

Okay, the tears in my eyes are definitely some hormonal period bullshit. But it’s still such a thoughtful gesture. So much of the awkward uncertainty in my mind and heart fade away in the time it takes me to unpack the gift and read his note once, then a second time. Total Prince Charming move. You know, if Prince Charming lived in the modern age and could acknowledge that Cinderella menstruated.

I utilize the gifted supplies, then lie down on the bed and stuff sour gummies in my face. My eyes flick to the clock, finding I have a half hour until the producers requested we meet them at breakfast. So with a deep, bracing breath, I reach for the thing I haven’t touched since my shower last night—my phone.

Scrolling through the push notifications is the most surreal reminder that the world is still turning outside the bubble of Wild Adventures. Everyone I know—knew way before Finn or Harper or anyone else out here—has a life they’ve kept living while I’ve been out of contact. Reese and Clara have blown up our group chat, per usual, and I don’t even try to catch up there yet, knowing it’ll make me too homesick. The people kind of home, not a place. The notifications from socials are mostly comments and likes from people I don’t care about, responding to my vague posts about taking a technology hiatus.

I know I shouldn’t open my email even before I do it. The little envelope icon is the one that gives me the most anxiety of anything on my phone, because it’s where all the shittiest stuff comes through. Emails from professors, my advisor, and, most stressfully, financial aid. But I can’t help the impulse to clear out the little red bubble hovering there, with a number I hope is mostly representing the near-daily advertisements about whatever sales Body Wonderland is having.

I tap, and my stomach sinks as my inbox appears.

OVERDUE PAYMENT

OVERDUE PAYMENT: SECOND NOTICE

OVERDUE PAYMENT: THIRD NOTICE

Jesus H, what I’d give for a fifty-percent-off body wash supersale to interrupt all the angry capital letters from Oliver College Financial Aid Office filling the screen. My vision blurs, my pulse picking up as the stress I’ve been doing my best to block out comes rushing back in, all but drowning me.

Of course I hadn’t forgotten my dire financial straits, but I sure as hell was trying. I throw my phone toward my pack across the room, and it lands on the carpeted floor. Bummer that it doesn’t sound like it shattered, that the screen will still show me those recurring reminders of my failure if I pick it up again. I don’t know what to do except sink face-first into a cushy hotel pillow, and let out a long scream.

It’s a little bit cathartic, even as it obviously solves nothing. My reality is still waiting for me, when I’m done with this little “reality” side quest. The reality where I have a payment for the fall that’s already overdue, three more years of tuition to cover, and a job to go back to and a school that hasn’t been especially kind to me, and I don’t get to just put on a pretty dress and have a five-course meal and defile a mini golf course with a gorgeous guy on any random night.

My chest is tight, my breathing frantic as I stand and pace the room. I turn my phone off and stuff it into my backpack to take back to Carina the producer, as if it’s the problem here. The action helps to lull me into comfortable denial, as does applying lavender oil to my wrists and sitting on the bed, attempting a few meditation techniques I’m out of practice with. But by the time I’m finished, and scramble to get ready to head down to breakfast, I’m still uneasy, and the cramps starting up in my uterus aren’t helping. I’m kind of grateful when I leave my bedroom for the suite’s common area and find that Finn’s door is open, his room already empty. More time to get my shit together before I see him again.

“Morning!” I chirp when I enter the breakfast area by the lobby, approaching the table where Finn, Carina, and the other producer, Emir, are already eating.

“Oh good, you made it!” Carina smiles up at me.

“Of course!” I plop my pack down by the chair beside Finn’s. He peeks my way briefly before returning to shoveling eggs in his mouth, and I’m not sure what I read in the look. I gesture to everyone’s plates. “So what’s good?”

With the producers’ advice to check out the waffle bar and omelet station, and no further input from an extremely food-focused Finn, I head off to peruse the buffet. I’ve nearly filled up my plate and am adding some fruit salad to give me the illusion of caring about my health despite my powdered-sugar-and-syrup-covered waffle and chocolate croissants—plural—when I bump into someone I didn’t notice at my side.

“Oh, sor—well, hey there!” I smile up at Finn, genuine warmth and contentment flooding me. This is all I needed, the thing that can banish all the scaries from my mind. His expression is more subdued, but unlike at the table, he allows a small grin to break free.

“Hi.” He clears his throat, then refocuses on the fruit in front of us, picking up a single grape at a time and placing them meticulously on his plate. “I, uh, just wanted to check in, since I didn’t see you again after I—yeah. I’m making sure I didn’t overstep. With the stuff from the gift shop. If you didn’t want or need it, it’s okay, I didn’t mean to be weird or make you uncomf—”

I still him with a hand over his as he reaches for the tongs in a bin of pineapple chunks. “Stop that, goober. Look at me.” He does so but warily. I squeeze his hand like his whole existence is squeezing my heart right now, and give him a smile that I hope carries even half the affection I feel. “Thank you, seriously. That was a really nice thing to do. I already ate all the gummies. Judge me if you must.”

His shy half smile is everything. “I would never.”

Rolling my eyes at that, I go on. “Yeah, right. But thank you again. And hey, while we’re here…” I look around to ensure Carina and Emir are still at the table, paying us no attention. “We didn’t really talk about, like…how to go forward. I mean, not that we need some kind of DTR conversation right now, god no, but—”

“DTR?” Finn asks, brows pulled together.

“Define-the-relationship,” I say before jumping right back into the topic at hand. “But for the purposes of the show, and being around other people, I just…” I shrug, wishing I’d thought any of this through for more than two seconds before I decided to air it out loud to Finn. But I’m here now. “Are we teammates who kiss now? And are we letting people know that?”

Now Finn looks like he’s trying not to laugh. Good, I’ve taken the mantle of awkwardness from his shoulders. So happy to offer this service. I narrow my eyes and he stands up straighter, deliberately clearing the amusement from his expression.

“Okay, we’re talking about this. Got it. Uh, well…Is it too predictably nineteen-year-old-straight-guy of me to say I’d really like to be teammates who kiss now?”

That gets a real laugh out of me, one probably too loud for the quiet morning atmosphere in this breakfast area.

“Maybe predictable,” I whisper when I’ve composed myself, “but we’re on the same page. So that part’s a done deal. But maybe we, I don’t know, keep it quiet for now? It’s just that this is new, and people would have questions—lots of them—and it could become a whole storyline on the show, which is a lot of pressure.” I set my plate down on the counter so I can literally wring my hands. “It’s not that I want to hide how I feel about you. It just seems way easier to keep it between the two of us to start. To not let other opinions and stuff in when we don’t have to just yet, you know?”

I peer up at him, nervous he’s going to be offended that I don’t want to be with him out in the open, or argue back. But to my surprise, he nods, looking totally sure of himself. “Agreed. Let’s not let any more complications in than we have to.”

My eyes widen. “Did we just agree on something, completely and without extensive discussion?”

Finn gives me a skeptical look before going back to his careful fruit collection. “The fact that this surprises you so much is a great testament to what a strong couple we make.”

“Careful there, buddy.” I pick up my plate and turn to start back toward the table, tossing over my shoulder, “You’re wading into DTR territory.”