Chapter Twenty-Two - Lucky
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Becca scans the screen, her head snapping back up when she sees that we’re trending. “They aired the footage already?”
“Yeah, about an hour ago, I think.”
I wouldn’t have noticed it, honestly—I’ve been in my own head ever since we left the paintball challenge—but Sean doesn’t have much of a poker face, and when he checked his phone a few seconds ago, his pissed off expression was easy enough to figure out.
Becca keeps swiping, but the thread is endless as more and more mentions roll in. My phone buzzes like crazy in her hand.
The entire table has gone utterly quiet.
Everyone’s getting bombarded with notifications, but Becca and I are the only ones trending.
The daggers being shot across the table are only pointed at us.
I don’t need to read the threads to know our fake hating scheme is working.
Voting is still open, so we won’t know the updated standings for a few more hours, but it’s looking good.
When we’re dismissed from dinner, I push back from the table, eager for some fresh air.
I’m still shaken by what happened earlier, and my entire body aches.
Exhaustion, both physical and mental, weighs on me, and even though camping in the desert seems about as fun as a root canal, all I can think about is closing my eyes and just forgetting this day ever happened.
I know I’m going to have to explain it to Becca.
She’s been shooting me looks all day when she doesn’t think I’ll notice.
But I can’t talk about it right now. Or maybe ever.
I don’t know. It took almost six weeks to get me to open up at physical therapy.
Despite the way my heart jumps every time she looks at me, I don’t know if I can tell her what happened.
Outside the restaurant, the finalists are split up and sent off to our accommodations. Becca and I are ushered into a van that will take us to our campsite for the night. We’re alone, save for the driver and Tony, so it gives me a minute or two to breathe without the other finalists glaring at me.
“How do you want to play this?” Becca whispers as soon as the van pulls away from the curb. Tony is fiddling with his camera settings and for once his lens isn’t pointed at us. “The whole camping thing, I mean?”
I’m so tired. It’s almost like I’ve been hit by a truck or something, and I don’t know if I even have the energy to scheme right now.
She must read it on my face because she gives me a half-smile.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. We don’t have to make it a big thing. Tony’s only going to stay until we go to bed, right? We can just call it an early night. Pretend we’re super wiped out from the challenge.”
I rake a hand through my hair. “Won’t have to reach too far for that one.”
We pull up to the RV park and campgrounds and drive down a winding dirt road, passing several parked RVs and travel trailers before heading to a less populated area of the grounds.
The driver stops the car at a flat spot surrounded by bristly-looking trees on three sides.
Our camping equipment sits in the center in a neat pile, waiting for us.
Tony beats us out of the car, hoisting his camera up to his shoulder and turning it on. Becca’s face goes from calm to annoyed in the second it takes him to do so. She lifts an eyebrow at me as if to say game on, and then lets out a huge huff.
“We have to pitch the tents ourselves?” She wrinkles her nose.
“I don’t think so,” I quip, “I’m pretty sure magical elves will be teleporting here any moment to do it for us.”
“Gee, thanks for that.” Her tone is flat, her lips pursed. But there’s still light in her eyes, and it sends flutters through my chest.
We get to work setting up our tents, which of course, absolutely sets us up for some awesome Operation I Hate You moments—arguing over which tent poles connect and where to position the stakes.
Tony still hasn’t said a word, but he’s following our every move, documenting each and every tense moment and sarcastic word between us.
“I’m going to bed,” Becca announces once the tents are successfully pitched, and we’ve divvied up the sleeping bags and small travel pillows. “Don’t forget what I said earlier about the rattlesnakes, Lucky.” She flashes me a wicked grin. “Better make sure that tent is zipped up nice and tight.”
She smirks and flips her hair off her shoulder before disappearing inside her tent. I give the camera an exasperated look before ducking into mine, sliding the zipper up behind me.
Finally alone, I let my face fall, the weight of the day sitting so heavily on my shoulders, I sink to the ground.
My phone sits on top of my backpack, buzzing every few seconds, but I don’t reach for it.
For the first time since the competition started, I don’t feel like scrolling through the feeds.
Lying on top of my sleeping bag with my hands behind my head, I can’t help replaying the paintball challenge over and over in my mind.
My fall from the tower.
The way the impact forced the air from my lungs.
The terrifying smack when my head hit the hard ground.
There’s no pain, no soreness, thanks to the helmet I was wearing, but I can still practically hear Dr. Jake’s voice chiding me.
TBIs are nothing to play around with. If it happens again, you may not be as lucky.
I’d known when I joined the competition that I might have to do physical activities, and I even told myself that it didn’t matter, that I would get by like I always do. My accident was a fluke—nothing like that would ever happen again.
But it almost had.
Even thinking about it makes my chest tighten again.
I rub at my sternum, forcing myself to inhale slowly, but the fingers of panic grip my throat, threatening to choke me.
It’s okay, you’re okay. Another voice starts speaking inside my head. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.
I see Becca leaning over me in the arena, strands of her hair brushing against my cheek. I focus on the features of her face. The curve of her lips, the warm brown of her eyes. The smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. And her voice. Calm and soothing.
The tension in my chest eases, air flowing more freely as I focus on the memory, on the way her fingers squeezed mine, giving me the lifeline I needed.
I breathe easier, though my pulse is still racing.
I don’t know how much time has passed, but outside my tent, it’s completely silent. Even though it’s still kinda early, I know I should just go to sleep. There’s no telling what the competition has in store for us tomorrow, but I can’t turn my brain off.
Not with Becca so close and not a single camera in sight.
Sitting up, I edge over to the tent flap and peek outside. There’s no sign of Tony or any of the Starlight cars. We’re officially alone.
Grinning, I slide the zipper down and step out into the night. Even though it’s the middle of summer, there’s still a slight crisp to the air here in the desert, and I breathe in deeply, stretching my arms out over my head.
Becca’s tent is quiet. I should probably leave her alone, let her get some rest, but selfishly I don’t want to. Today was rough, and while I can’t change what happened earlier, I want the last few hours of this day to be about something more than the competition. I want something real.
“Hey, Holly G,” I call out, not too loudly but enough to carry, “You awake?”
Her tent zipper slides down, and she pops her head out, eyes landing on me in the dark. “Is he gone?”
I glance around and nod, indicating the empty campground. “It’s just you and me.”
Something warm skips through my chest. I like the way that sounds, you and me.
Becca steps out of the tent zipping it up behind her. “I didn’t even hear Tony leave. He’s like some kind of ninja, I swear.”
She looks up, gasping at the glittering midnight sky. “Whoa, that’s amazing. You can really see the stars out here.”
My breath catches in my throat as I stare at her face illuminated by the moonlight. She’s so beautiful it hurts.
“It’s really something, isn’t it?”
I have to swallow before answering. “Yeah,” I reply, though I’m not looking at the same thing she is. “It really is.”
“So,” she says, returning her focus to me. “What should we do now?”
“How about a campfire?” I point to the box of supplies left for us by the Starlight people. “I think there’s even some s’mores stuff in there.”
Becca’s face lights up. “S’mores? I love those.”
Damn if that smile doesn’t nearly knock me right over. Get it together man, I tell myself, as I start pulling supplies out of the box.
There’s an area that’s already set up for a campfire with thick stones lining the perimeter and several logs stacked and waiting. I gather a few smaller twigs and some brush to use for kindling and then bend down, working to get the thing lit.
It doesn’t take long before there’s a nice little blaze going.
“You made that look easy,” Becca says, plopping down in the dirt next to the fire.
“Eagle Scout, remember?” I wink.
Becca rolls her eyes as she pulls the bag of marshmallows into her lap and opens it, popping one into her mouth.
My gaze goes to her full lips, and god, I can’t help myself. I want to feel them moving against mine. I want to taste that marshmallow on her tongue.
I want to run my fingers through the silky strands of her hair, hold her body against mine, and kiss her until the last of the stars winks out. I want to—
“Lucky?”
I blink, my thoughts returning me back down to earth. Becca holds out a metal roasting stick with two marshmallows skewered on the end. I take it and sit down beside her, trying to ignore the tingling of my skin when her arm brushes mine.
Just kiss her, my mind screams at me, and holy shit, I want to. I want to pull her into my arms so badly, it makes me ache, but I don’t know if she feels the same way.
I’ve been with women before, but none of them have challenged me like Becca does. No one I’ve ever met has made me laugh the way she does. No one else can stop my heart with just a look like she does, and I’m not entirely sure what to do with that.
I’m used to taking risks, to throwing caution to the wind and just going with it, but not like this. Risking my limbs and even my life? I do that on the daily.
But risking my heart feels more terrifying than anything else I’ve ever done.
I blow out a low breath and stick my marshmallows directly in the center of the fire, the glowing, crackling flames an excellent distraction.
“Hey!” Becca reaches out and yanks my arm back a few inches. “Don’t do it like that, you’ll scorch them.”
Heat spikes through me where her fingers touch the bare skin of my arms. “I like them burnt.”
“No, no, no,” Becca shakes her head. “The perfect smore requires a lightly toasted mallow, not one charred to a gritty crisp.”
“You really take s'mores seriously, huh?”
“Absolutely,” she vows, pressing a hand to her heart. “It’s an art form, really. The perfect ratio of melting chocolate, warm, gooey, marshmallows, and a crispy graham cracker.”
“Whatever you say, Holly G.” I snicker, but keep my marshmallows out of the danger zone waiting until they’re just slightly brown before pulling them back.
She gives me a satisfied smirk as she passes me some graham crackers and a piece of chocolate and waits until I take a big bite. “See? It’s perfect, isn’t it?”
It’s the best damn smore I’ve ever eaten, but I pantomime thinking hard about my answer. Becca elbows me in the side.
“Fine, you’re right.” I shove the rest of the s'more in my mouth, lifting my hands in defeat. “You’re right.” The last two words are muffled since my mouth is full, but it makes her laugh.
“You’ve got marshmallow goo all over you.” She leans in, wiping at my chin with her thumb, her fingertips skimming lightly over my jawline. I expect her to pull her hand away, but she doesn’t, and when her eyes meet mine, something is shining in them, so lovely and bright, I can’t breathe.
“Becca,” I whisper, unable to tear my eyes away from her face. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
“I really want to kiss you right now.” The words tumble out, and heat rushes up the back of my neck.
“I mean . . . I don’t have to, it’s just .
. .” I trip over the words and break eye contact, suddenly finding the twigs at my feet much more interesting.
“Shit,” I mumble, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Lucky,” Becca says softly. “Look at me.”
When I lift my head, she’s smiling a completely different smile than I’ve ever seen from her before. The rest of the world disappears, and the only thing I can see is this beautiful, amazing woman in front of me.
“I want to kiss you, too,” she whispers.
It’s like a thousand fireworks have erupted inside my chest.
My body reacts before my brain can even fully process it, and I reach for her, claiming her mouth.
It’s like going from zero to a hundred, and my pulse spikes sending me careening over a cliff. This feeling of weightlessness. The thrill of free-falling. The swirl of color as the world flies by. I thought I’d understood it, but I was wrong.
I’ve never experienced a true adrenaline rush. Not until now.
Cupping her face with my hands, I slow down, savoring every brush of my lips against hers, slowly and gently.
I pull back, just enough to look into her eyes. Is this really happening? Is this real?
“Holly G, I . . .” But the words die in my throat.
Whatever I was about to say evaporates, and there’s not a single thought left in my brain except that I have to kiss this girl again.
So, I do.