Chapter Twenty-One - Becca
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“It’s okay.” The words rush out. “You’re okay.”
I say it to calm him, but I have no idea if it’s true. The fall itself didn’t look that bad, but it’s clear from the way Lucky is shaking and gasping for breath that something’s wrong.
Whipping my head back and forth, I spot a medic in a red vest, hurrying around the perimeter of the course, trying to get to us. I wave him over.
“Hurry!” I call out, though my voice hardly carries over the whistling of the paintballs still flying through the air. All the other finalists are still fighting each other for flags. There are two camera guys around us now though, and I have to fight the urge to scream at them.
How can you just stand there with your camera? I want to yell, to unleash the fury building up in my throat. Can’t you see that he’s not okay?
But even if I do, I know they won’t break protocol, won’t put down the camera—not if it means capturing something particularly dramatic.
Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay.
Lucky’s eyes shoot open again, and relief floods through me.
“Lucky?” I lean over him. A large chunk of my hair has fallen out of its braid and creates a curtain between us and the cameras.
“Can you hear me?” The words aren’t loud, but I know he hears them as his eyes zero in on me.
His pupils are huge, and it takes a second for them to focus.
“Becca,” he rasps.
“Yeah.” I nod. “I’m right here. Don’t move okay? Help is coming.”
The medic skids to a stop in front of us, a bulky first aid kit in his hand.
I start to move back, to give him some space, but Lucky’s hand, covered in dirt and paint, grips mine so tightly it brings tears to my eyes.
Not because it hurts, but because it breaks my heart to see him like this. Pale, shaky, and absolutely terrified.
I don’t fully understand what’s going on, but cameras be damned I don’t want him to feel alone, so I squeeze back, as if to say, Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.
“Can you give us some room, guys?” The medic waves a hand to the camera crew, and they turn away, heading for the opposite side of the arena where it seems the challenge is finally ending.
“Wow, you can do that?” I’m surprised the cameramen stopped rolling so easily.
The medic shrugs. “HIPAA. All medical stuff is confidential.” He assesses Lucky. “There are no visible injuries. Where do you feel pain?”
Lucky blinks once then twice before letting out a deep, shuttering breath. “I . . . I’m . . . I’m not hurt. I just got the wind knocked out of me, I think.”
“Do you think you can sit up?” The medic reaches for Lucky’s forearm to support him. “Just go slow.”
I let go of Lucky’s hand and mimic the medic’s movements, helping to pull Lucky into an upright sitting position. His entire body is trembling, and even with his helmet still on, I can tell that his face is lacking all traces of color.
“We’re going to take that helmet off, okay?” The medic waits for Lucky to nod and then carefully removes the helmet. Lucky’s hand immediately flies to his head, his fingers probing his skull.
“What about now? Feel any pain?”
“Um . . . no. I think I’m okay.”
That’s a lie. The words echo loudly in my mind. Even though Lucky seems fine now, a few seconds ago, he clearly wasn’t. I study his face, chewing on the inside of my bottom lip.
The medic doesn’t seem worried, but he didn’t see what I saw, and his calm, unconcerned demeanor does little to quell the churning nausea in my stomach.
I want to ask Lucky a dozen questions, but the serious, almost vacant expression on his face keeps me silent.
Now’s not the time. Even with the cameras off, there are still eyes and ears everywhere, and while I don’t fully understand what just happened, I know it’s personal.
The medic sits back on his heels. “I think you’re okay, Mr. DeLucca. The fall surprised you a bit, but it doesn’t appear you have any injuries, so I think you’re good to go. If you feel well enough, you’re cleared to continue participating in the challenge.”
Lucky nods, his fingers still absently running over a spot on the left side of his skull. “Yeah, I’m good.”
The medic grabs his first aid kit and launches to his feet, leaving us alone in the dirt. I know I only have a few seconds before the camera crew returns, so I reach for his hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?”
There’s the slightest pressure on my fingers before he pulls his hand away. “Yeah. Just got the breath knocked out of me is all.”
“Are you sure, I mean, you—“
“I’m fine.” He cuts me off, his expression gruff. He must realize it though because he offers me a tentative smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m good, Holly G. Really.”
I want to call him out on it, want to know why he’s lying to me, but Tony’s walking our way, the lens of his camera already capturing our every move.
“Okay,” I sigh, busying myself with retrieving our paintball guns so I don’t have to look at him. Lucky’s reaction stings a little, and I need to really think about why.
You know why, the voice in my head whispers.
I don’t bother arguing. If I’m being honest with myself, I know exactly why my feelings are a little hurt right now.
But matters of the heart don’t exactly fit in a competition like this.
A horn sounds on the other side of the playing field, and the challenge is over. I have no idea who won, but obviously it wasn’t us.
We make our way back through the arena. Lucky walks stiffly beside me, lost in his head. Tony walks backwards in front of us, but I doubt the footage is all that exciting. Lucky brooding and me worrying isn’t exactly quality content.
Pull yourself together, I chide, knowing that we need to put the masks back on before someone sees.
I force my face into a fake grimace and elbow Lucky.
“So,” I challenge, covering my words with a thick layer of annoyance. “Was that part of your strategy?” I’m hoping he can tell that I’m going back to our ruse.
Lucky’s head snaps to me. “Oh, you mean, completely tanking the challenge?” he counters, his voice as deadpan as mine. “No, Holly G. That was not part of the plan. Maybe if you had listened to me, things could have gone differently.”
The breath rushes out of my nostrils. I play it off as a huff, but it’s definitely relief. Lucky still seems a little out of sorts—the usual light in his eyes is gone—but at least he’s playing the game with me. I’m taking that as a good sign.
“Really? You think this is my fault? Last time I checked, you were the one that was supposed to get the flag.” I make a show of checking Lucky’s hands. “Nope, no flag.”
Lucky rolls his eyes. “You can’t blame me for not executing the plan when it was a bad plan to begin with.”
Tony moves closer—the camera capturing every word we hurl at each other.
Lucky and I continue our fake argument all the way across the playing field until we join the rest of the paint-covered finalists standing next to Dozer.
“Hey,” Iris gives me a smile when I step up next to her. “You okay? You sorta look like you want to murder someone.”
I’m fully aware of Tony behind me when I reply, “If that someone is Lucky DeLucca, then yes. You could say that. He’s so frustrating.”
Iris laughs. “Yeah, I guess today wasn’t your day, huh?
” As if to prove her point, she holds up her hand, showing off two flags.
Her smile changes a little then, and I blink making sure I’m not imagining things, but it’s there.
The gleam in her eye, the slight twist in her smile. It’s certainly not a friendly look.
This is a competition, I remind myself, but still it bothers me.
“Well, I have to say, that was absolutely exhilarating!” Someone has given Dozer a megaphone and even though he doesn’t need to, he shouts the words.
“It’s time to announce the winners of the O.K.
Corral-inspired shootout! In first place, we have Team McLaury!
Who managed to snag two flags before getting taken out by their opponents. ”
“That’s us!” Iris beams, flashing me a grin before skipping over to Sean.
It’s strange how sweet I thought Iris was when we first met, but now it’s different. Maybe she wears a mask, too.
It’s possible, I guess. I mean, we all do it to an extent—pretend to be some version of ourselves when the camera is on. You can think you know someone from what you see online, but it’s not real. I know that. I live that. Yet, it still kinda hurts to see it play out like this.
“In second place, we have Team Earp! Who only narrowly defeated our third place team, Team Clanton!”
Skai and Ross high-five when their names are called for second place, and though Evie and Ziven look a little disgruntled, they still manage smiles for the cameras.
Lucky and I are called next. The unequivocal losers of the challenge.
“Aw, bad luck for Team Holliday,” Dozer intones, still yelling into the microphone.
“Can’t win ‘em all,” Lucky lifts a shoulder and lets it drop. The other finalists look positively gleeful at our loss, and that same uncomfortable feeling I felt earlier while talking to Iris floats back.
Dozer lets out a loud laugh and continues, “There’s one more thing that we forgot to mention before the start of the challenge.” He leans forward and gives the cameras a big ole wink.
“Oh no,” I grumble, hating the look on his face. I have a feeling that I’m not going to like whatever comes next.
“Tonight’s accommodations are directly linked to where you placed in the shootout,” Dozer explains, bouncing up and down on his feet as if he’s revealing some juicy secret. “That means that the quality of your sleeping arrangements depends entirely on you.”
The words send a shiver down my spine and beside me, Lucky swears under his breath.
“What does that mean, exactly?” Skai asks.