Chapter 19 If the Paddleboard’s a-Rockin’…
IF THE PADDLEBOARD’S A-ROCKIN’…
SEYOON
Okay. Apparently, consummate doesn’t mean what I thought it did.
“I thought that’s what it’s called when you announce a relationship,” I hiss so none of the others around us can hear. “Excuse the hell out of me for not knowing what every single word in the English language means. Damn.”
Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can we please stop talking about it?” he whispers.
It’s B-roll day today: a full eight hours of shooting candid footage so viewers can see how we interact outside of challenges.
Except, I don’t know how candid it actually is when every scene is carefully scripted.
Our first location of the day is the lake, which is where we’re all headed to now, clad in swimsuits and padding barefoot down the grassy knoll.
The clip-on mics aren’t waterproof, so we don’t have to wear them, thankfully, but there’s still countless boom mics following us around.
At least until we get in the water.
Dean crosses his arms over his bare chest and steps closer. “Your plan better work, whatever it is.”
“It will. I’m confident.”
“Always are,” he mutters under his breath.
After we decided to commit to the showmance, we both knew we’d have to make sure everyone really believes we’re together.
There can’t be any room for speculation.
Since then, I’ve been brainstorming all the ways we can convince the others we’re more than bunkmates and reluctant allies.
As someone who’s never been in a relationship—a real one, anyway, Emmanuel doesn’t really count—I had a tough time figuring it out.
But then when I found out we were going to be corralled together all day for filming, the perfect idea plopped itself into my head.
We finish our short trek from the cabin to the lake, where a million pool toys have spawned overnight.
I grimace at all the cameras stationed nearby.
It’s not just the other campers who will witness this stunt we’re about to pull—it’s also everyone who’ll watch this back at home.
Umma. Appa. Amelia. My skin tries to break out in shivers, but I rub them away.
Now is not the time to be getting cold feet.
“Fuck, it’s cold,” Dean says as he dips his toes into the water.
Blake starts directing us to do different activities, grouping people in one area, then changing her mind and switching the pairs around. I raise my hand and ask if me and Dean can go paddleboarding.
“Great idea. Carter, tag along with them,” she says. “We need more interactions between the three of you.”
“No,” I interrupt. “Um… me and Dean want to have some privacy, actually.”
It’s mortifying, but it works; everyone pays attention. Adin snickers. Vendredi leans behind Blake and shoots me two thumbs-up, mouthing Nice. Garrett, who’s been more preoccupied with lathering himself up with sunscreen than helping Blake stage the scene, does a double-take.
“Well, alright then,” Blake says nonchalantly, but I see her perk up, interested.
We cling to a paddleboard and begin swimming out—but not too far.
We have to make sure the others have a perfect view of us.
I climb up on the paddleboard first, straddling it with both my legs hanging off the sides.
Dean clambers up to join me. His expression scrunches in a way I’m starting to recognize as his embarrassed face.
He carefully scoots closer to meet me in the middle of the board.
Water drips from his curls and down the plane of his bare chest. Finally, he sits close enough that his knee bumps mine.
The waves rock us gently from side to side.
The surface of the water glistens like sparks of a campfire.
“Alright,” he says. “We’re out here. What’s your brilliant plan? It’s got to convince the others and the viewers at home because, I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be known as the douche who pretended to be in love just to get ahead in a game.”
I scrunch my nose in distaste. I know that’s exactly what we’re doing but… no one else needs to know that. “Neither do I. But don’t worry, I have the perfect idea.”
As Dean stares at me expectantly, a foreign feeling implants in my belly.
Kind of like the nerves I get at the starting line of a race, but worse.
I flatten my palms against the textured rubber of the paddleboard to ground myself, then paste a smile on my face to hide any hesitation that might crack through my expression.
“We pretend to kiss,” I say.
He blinks. The sunshine against his eyelashes casts long shadows on his cheeks.
“Hmm,” he hums.
“What?”
“I’m just perplexed by what goes on inside that brain of yours.”
“Is it or is it not convincing?” I reply. “We mash the sides of our face together, and from this far, it looks like we’re making out. Foolproof.”
“You seemed awfully confident about this idea, and the whole plan is to pretend to kiss?”
“Well if you have more experience in the romance department that you’re keeping a secret, I’m open to ideas.”
His lips flatten into a thin line. “Seyoon, I’m president of my school’s literature club. No, I don’t have more experience in that department.”
“Really?”
“Rude.”
“I’m not being sarcastic. I’m surprised.”
He squints suspiciously. “Why?”
My gaze roams over him. In the privacy of my own mind, I can admit that Dean isn’t ugly. Fine, he’s okay-looking.
Alright, he’s really hot. There, happy? Jesus Christ.
There’s something undeniably charming about Dean’s bright eyes and mousy features, and it’s pretty cute when he grins all shy, dimples peeking out. And when he’s really getting into the heat of the competition, and his smile turns into something wicked, it’s downright—
Alright. That’s enough. I shift uncomfortably on the paddleboard.
Dean’s suspicion morphs into plain confusion at my drawn-out silence, so I swallow the sudden thickness in my throat and blurt, “Well, you said you’re president of the book club, right? People love a man in politics.”
To my total surprise, Dean laughs. It bubbles out of him, and he looks just as caught off guard by it as I am. I snort and, luckily, that clears some of the air between us.
“Fine, let’s give it a try then,” he says. He jerks his chin at me, and a curl bounces on his forehead. “Come here.”
My pulse thuds hard in my ears.
“No, you come here.”
“Are you seriously doing this right now?” he asks.
“It’s my idea, I should take the lead.”
“I’m not letting that happen.”
“Afraid you’ll like it?”
“You are the worst—”
I interrupt him by snaking my hand around his neck and pulling him toward me.
Dean’s eyes widen, but I stop tugging when he’s centimeters away, his nose bumping against mine.
I put my other hand on the side of his face so it looks like I’m cupping his cheek, but it’s really to conceal the fact that our lips aren’t actually touching. They’re close, though.
So close I can feel it on my mouth when he lets out a single, stuttered exhale.
There’s a wolf whistle and a few excited hoots from where the others are, and I grin.
“Listen, it’s working,” I whisper, even though there’s no need.
They can’t hear us from over here. But something about being so close to Dean right now makes me want to lower my voice.
Or maybe it’s because I don’t have enough breath to speak any louder.
His skin is soft and hot under my touch.
My face burns where his nose brushes. “Let’s make it more convincing. ”
“Um,” Dean croaks, his voice husky and low. “Uh.”
His raspy syllables are the only thing separating our mouths. Then I feel a touch—his—tentatively grab my bare hip, right below the fabric of my swimsuit bottom.
On reflex, my fingers curl in the hairs at the nape of his neck, lightly scratching the skin there and tugging on a blond ringlet. Dean’s eyes pop open. His gaze flickers down to my lips, then back up. My own eyes trail down to his mouth, then lower—
Then he pushes me away, and the paddleboard capsizes, sending us both flailing into the lake.
The water is an icy shock to my system. I float back up and gasp for air, more breathless than I should be. Dean pops up a moment later, his face still fiery red.
“What the hell was that for?” I ask. My lips tingle from where they almost touched his.
Dean grabs onto the paddleboard and begins swimming back to shore in a hurry.
“Nothing!” he squeaks, panic lacing his voice. “I’m just going for a swim. Over there. Okay, see you, buddy,” he gets out all in one breath.
I tread water, staring after him with a mixture of disbelief and shock. Dean paddles faster than he’s ever gone before. Whatever his deal is, it doesn’t matter. Because my plan worked.
Everyone thinks we’re together now.
Huh.
CONFESSION TAPE—Carter Moxley, Contestant
They both have awful taste in companions.
CONFESSION TAPE—Siddharth Patel, Contestant
I guess that alliance is solid.