Chapter 22 Bennett
BENNETT
It’s fine. This is all fine.
Charlie and I sat beside the small fire and ate some berries we had gathered. As the sun went down, it got cold enough for us to each pull on another layer of clothes.
We both, very decidedly, did not look in the direction of the sleeping bag laid out behind us.
The one sleeping bag.
The one mostly normal-sized sleeping bag the show had sent for us to share. I’d unrolled it to find a small bar of dark chocolate nestled inside, along with a heart-shaped note that read: For the cozy lovebirds!
The crew must have taken one of our sleeping bags back onto the boat when we weren’t paying attention.
I knew we had two when we were initially dropped on shore.
They liked to play these games with the contestants—create obstacles, leave behind small rewards.
I should have expected something like this to happen.
But I hadn’t.
“So, tomorrow …” Charlie’s glance cut to the side—to the sleeping bag?— then back to me quickly. “I think we need to focus on finding food and building our shelter.”
“Agreed.” I finished off the last of my berries, and my stomach still growled in hunger. We were going to need to hunt or fish. There was an abundance of berries where we were dropped, but they’d only go so far. Especially when we were working from sunup to sundown and burning a ton of calories.
Charlie split the chocolate bar in half, and we ate our portions.
The rain had continued to steadily fall all afternoon, and now there was a gusting wind that whistled through the opening in our shelter, flinging icy rain at our exposed faces.
The tarp flapped ominously, and our fire flickered.
I buried my face into my scarf, waiting for it to go out and leave us completely without warmth.
Well, not completely without warmth.
We both glanced at the sleeping bag again, realized we were doing it, looked at each other, and then scrambled to our feet as the awkwardness became too much to bear.
“I’m going to change into my—”
“I need to find a nice tree—”
Neither of us finished as we both rushed to our separate tasks.
I finished my business at the tree, then rested a hand against it and let my head hang down while a light stream of rain, filtered through the thick pine boughs I stood under, fell on my hair and exposed neck.
Here were the facts:
Charlie and I were married.
We were on camera at pretty much all times.
If we both slept in that sleeping bag, there wouldn’t be a single breath of air between us. All of Charlie—sweet, delicious, not meant for me in any way Charlie—would be pressed up against all of me. Legs tangled in legs. Backs snug against chests. Mouths pressed dangerously close to necks.
I titled my head up to let the cold rain fall over my face. I needed to shock those thoughts out of my system.
Okay. Okay.
If we didn’t both sleep in that sleeping bag, people would wonder why there was trouble in paradise already. And not the good, drama kind of wonder. No, the kind where the show would create a challenge intended to get us eliminated before we had a chance to earn enough money for Charlie’s mom.
We had our marching orders. Exaggerate everything. Be a freaking functional adult about this.
I returned to the shelter, where Charlie stood with her back to me. My eyes traced the delicate curve of her spine peeking through her loosened hair, followed it until it dropped into the waistband of her gray briefs. All thoughts were erased from my head.
Every single one.
Gone.
Functioning adult? Ha. Not a single brain cell was functioning.
I must have made some sort of noise, because she peered over her shoulder, her eyes wide. “Bennett!”
I choked out an apology as she flung her shirt over her head.
I turned my back to her and busied myself with the pot, like that had been my intention all along.
Washing that pot was going to take all my attention.
Every last bit. It was the most fascinating cast-iron pot I’d ever seen, actually. We were so lucky to have it.
A newlywed wouldn’t turn around, but the show was just going to have to edit this out.
“Hey,” Charlie said. “Are you going to get changed too?”
I cautiously turned to see that she was wearing a black long-sleeved shirt and long johns. No silky skin in sight. I swallowed hard. “No, yeah. I’ll just wear this.”
We both looked at my wet pants with muddy hems, and she frowned. “Didn’t you bring pajamas?”
Yes, but they were long johns that left little to the imagination. It was supposed to be dark, and I was supposed to have my own sleeping bag. We were only allowed so many items; I didn’t want to waste one on pajama pants that would get all tangled around my legs when I was trying to sleep.
“I don’t think we should get the sleeping bag dirty,” she said, timidly.
“I’ll just sleep out here.” Hadn’t I literally just decided that wasn’t an option?
“Oh. Okay.” She seemed taken aback. Did she want to sleep with me? In the bag, I mean.
She looked pointedly at the cameras, but I pretended not to notice.
Her brows drew lower over her eyes, and she went to the sleeping bag and climbed in.
Something about her expression made me feel bad, like I’d misstepped somehow.
And more than just because I was ignoring the cameras.
But these were high stakes here. My sanity was on the line.
“I totally understand,” she said quietly.
I kicked my boots off and then sat to remove my socks and lay them out near the fire to dry. “What do you mean?”
“Just, you know, having to be so close. To me. It’s not ideal for you,” she whispered so quietly, I wasn’t sure I heard her right.
“I … that’s not it.” I mean, it was. But not for the reasons she was implying. Not because it was disgusting to me—but because it wasn’t. “It’s a tight space. I don’t want to crowd you.”
“Oh. I’ll be fine. It’s roomier in here than it looks.”
I highly doubted that.
She stared at me expectantly, so I let out a short breath and unbuckled my belt. What was the saying? Out of the frying pan, into the fire.
Out of the solitary life, into the sleeping bag with your sister’s best friend.
She closed her eyes and yawned.
I slid my pants and jacket off, debated on the T-shirt, then took that off too. I snagged my long johns from the bag and hurriedly dressed, though I was fairly confident Charlie wouldn’t peek at me. “I’m coming in.”
She scooted to the non-zippered side of the sleeping bag, her back to me, and I slid in behind her, feeling the warmth instantly. She squealed when my cold feet touched hers.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m going to zip the bag, here …” I tried to reach it, and she moved to give me room, turning to face me as she did.
“I can’t breathe with my face jammed in the side,” she said. We both tried to adjust, her hand brushing my stomach as she moved, and I clenched every muscle.
“This zipper is being tricky,” I said, feeling the sweat start to bead against my skin. How had I thought it was cold in here a moment ago? It was so hot. A fiery furnace. The gates of hell.
My elbow brushed something soft—don’t think about it—as I pulled at the zipper, sliding it up, almost there …
A chittering noise sounded unexpectedly by our ears, startling Charlie. She shrieked and flailed as if to get away, her knee coming right into my groin.
I groaned as white-hot pain lanced through me, and I instinctively tried to curl into myself, but there was no room.
“It’s just a beetle. I thought it was a mouse,” she said, with a shaky laugh. “What’s wrong?”
“Just… dying…”
“Did I…? Oh my gosh, I kneed you, didn’t I?” She moved around as if trying to give me space, but all those limbs flying everywhere were making me think we were heading straight toward round two.
I grabbed her arms to hold her in place. “I need a minute,” I wheezed.
She held perfectly still. I had no idea how long we both lay there, waiting for my pain to abate, but it was long enough for the fire to bank all the way to a few glowing embers. Long enough for all un-friend-like thoughts to take a knee at the sideline.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, sounding like she’d been beating herself up for a bit. “I’ll sleep outside the bag.”
“No one is sleeping outside the bag.” I slipped my arm under her head and pulled her close to me, so her head was resting against my chest like a pillow.
There. Now we both fit comfortably, though she was a little stiff at my side.
“I’m fine. It’s not the first time that’s happened. Just try to relax. Is this okay?”
“Yes,” she said. We were so close, I could feel her heartbeat fluttering against my ribs. I closed my eyes and focused on my lingering pain, and not on so much softness pressed to me.
The tension in Charlie’s muscles slowly unspooled, but it took us both a very long time to fall asleep.