22. Chapter Twenty-Two
The second my toes hit the cold floor, I knew I’d made a mistake. My pride was not worth the hypothermia I’d suffer if I stayed down here and played without additional clothing. I turned to head back upstairs for my socks, but Grey stood in the doorway, blocking my exit.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He crossed his arms over his chest, drawing attention to his muscles. I’d had no idea arm muscles could be so sexy, but Grey’s physique regularly reminded me they were. Cover those arms in flannel, and I was a goner every time he flexed in my vicinity.
“I need socks.” I gestured to my toes, bright pink toenails contrasting with the concrete floor. And if I got socks, maybe I’d conveniently forget to come back downstairs.
“How do I know this isn’t an elaborate ploy to get out of the tournament?” he asked, eyebrows raised and a smirk teasing his lips.
“Why would I commit to play and immediately back out?” I reasoned, grateful Grey couldn’t read my mind. Staying up late and waking up early the last several days was catching up to me, and I would not mind an early bedtime.
“You could just use a blanket.” He motioned to the stack of blankets piled on the couch from movie night a few days before.
“That only works if I’m not moving. If I have to get up at all, my toes will freeze again.” I tried my best to look pathetic and in desperate need of socks. I wasn’t quite sure what the expression was, but surely I could pull it off. If I didn’t end up coming back downstairs, it would only be because the siren call of my bed had become too loud. Everyone would understand.
Grey shook his head, seeming to read the intent on my face. “If you go upstairs now, how can I guarantee you’ll come back for the tournament?”
“You’re going to hold me hostage down here to play video games? What if my toes freeze off?” I crossed my arms over my chest, mimicking Grey’s stance.
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Grey shrugged, as if losing one’s toes was a regular occurrence. “You’ll still be beautiful, even without toes.”
“Thank you? I think that’s genuinely the weirdest compliment I’ve ever received,” I said, not really sure how to react to someone talking about the loss of body parts I was very much attached to.
Grey grinned mischievously. “But you admit it was a compliment! I have better ones if you stay downstairs.”
“If that’s your bar for compliment excellence, I understand why online dating hasn’t worked out for you yet.” I laughed, imagining Grey messaging that same line to an unsuspecting stranger on the internet.
“Surprisingly, I haven’t used that one. I’ll have to keep it in mind for the future.”
My stomach clenched at that. I did not like the idea of Grey on dating apps, using cheesy lines and impressive arms to woo other women.
Pushing aside the unexpected spike of jealousy, I considered my options. Grey completely blocked the door. But if I pushed, there was no way he’d continue blocking me, right?
I made a run for it, trying to duck under Grey’s arm. He reacted, dropping his arm down to block my escape.
“No fair!” I said, dodging around him and attempting a similar move on his other side. Instead of letting me past, Grey looped his arm around my waist and pulled me away from the door.
I couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. Thinking quickly, I threw my weight back against Grey, hoping to surprise him and escape his hold. Instead, he absorbed my weight and pulled me in tighter.
I looked into his face, laughter crinkling his eyes, and froze. His lips were only a few inches away and, for the briefest moment, I considered pushing up on tiptoes and finding out what it felt like to kiss a man with a beard.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs was the only warning before Alex appeared behind Grey. We quickly broke apart, but Alex’s lips pursed as he took in the scene.
“Do I want to know?” Alex asked, stepping around Grey into the basement.
“Audrey’s trying to chicken out of our contest. She claims she’s just getting socks, but I know better,” Grey said, regaining his composure quickly, though his lips still ticked up at the corners.
“You’re being ridiculous,” I said, proud I didn’t sound more breathless. “Just let me upstairs. I’ll be back in two minutes, tops. You can even time me.”
“Why don’t you just lend her some of yours? That way she doesn’t have to go upstairs.” Alex stretched out on one of the worn couches, his frame tall enough that his feet dangled off one end.
Grey glanced from me to Alex and back, considering.
“You’ll also have to lend me a sweatshirt. I’m not dressed for arctic temperatures.” I gestured to my short sleeves, grateful my pants were at least warm. Goose bumps were starting to pebble on my arms. I told myself it was from the cold and had nothing to do with having nearly kissed Grey.
“Fine, but if I come back to find you’ve gone upstairs, I’ll take it as proof that you’re the ultimate chicken and unleash the full fury of my pranking ability.”
I nodded, accepting Grey’s terms while also wondering if those pranks could possibly lead to other wrestling matches and near kisses.
Grey disappeared down the hall to The Cave, looking over his shoulder once to make sure I was still there.
“Now’s your chance to escape. Hurry, run!” Alex said, laughter tinging his voice.
“If you think he’s joking about the pranks, he’s not,” I responded, sitting on one of the many couches in the basement, this one a faded green and blue stripe.
“I know he’s not. I was hoping I’d get to witness an epic prank war.” Alex sat up but kept his legs on the couch, and sent me a wink. “Maybe we can try some of those pranks on Trent, help him find his sense of humor. Or he’ll freak out enough that Tory will finally dump him. I’m good with either option.”
I snorted, picturing stoic Trent and his lack of response to literally everything. “I think he’d just glare at you and go back to whatever’s so important on his phone. Or he’d go for a run. All those muscles have to come from somewhere.”
“Got them!” Grey raced back into the main area of the basement, triumphantly holding a pair of socks and a red flannel shirt above his head.
He threw the socks at me, and I caught them, surprised at the pattern.
“I didn’t know they made flannel socks,” I said as I pulled them on, my toes experiencing instant relief as the fabric chased away the cold that had all but seeped into my bones.
Grey shrugged, draping the flannel shirt around my shoulders. “I have a signature pattern. If it doesn’t apply to even my socks and underwear, then who am I?”
I tried to push the image of flannel underwear from my mind as I slipped on his shirt, resisting the urge to bury my face in the collar and soak in his familiar scent. Needing a distraction, I turned to the TV and gaming console that would be my purgatory for the next several hours.
“Are we ready to start this tournament or what?” I asked, reaching for a controller.
Grey grabbed my hand, stopping me. “Not yet. Brad’s making the bracket, and then we’ll start.”
“Bracket? I thought we’d just face off. Then I’d lose and get to call it a night.”
“What do you think this is? Amateur hour?” Brad called from the doorway, holding a notebook above his head. “This is a double elimination tournament of epic-ness guaranteed to fill your evening with hours of entertainment as we determine racing superiority.”
Brad walked to the couch, shoved Alex’s legs out of the way, and sat. He then held up the notebook, showing me a complicated graph that was barely legible.
“Everyone races at least twice. That way we won’t have any whiners blaming bad luck or a difficult course.” He looked pointedly at his brother before continuing. “This is a battle to the end. Winner takes all: bragging rights until the next cabin trip.”
“Great. Can I compete in the first two races?” I asked, covering a yawn. Now that I was warm, exhaustion was settling into my bones, and the siren call of my bed grew louder.
“Sorry, but race order has already been determined based on random selection. Don’t want anyone crying foul.” Brad handed me the notebook but refused to make eye contact. Something felt fishy about the whole setup.
I glanced at the sheet, and in bold strokes, everyone’s names were written, with my brackets both conveniently listed last.
“How are both of my races at the end?” I directed the question at Brad but glanced up to find Tory entering the basement, a guilty expression on her face that she quickly hid with a yawn and a stretch.
“Just lucky! It means you have time to brainstorm your strategy before your races.” Brad took the notebook, turning away from me and rambling about the first bracket.
If I was a betting woman, I’d bet there was nothing random about this bracket. However, since I’d been downstairs waging a sock war, I had no way to prove it. It had seemed odd that Grey was so insistent I stay downstairs. Was it just because he thought I’d bail on the tournament? Or was something else at play?
I looked between Grey and Tory, trying to find evidence of their plotting but coming up empty. I wouldn’t put it past the two of them to conspire against me, but without proof, my options were to either back out or pray the races ended quickly. Deciding all I had to lose was a bit more sleep, I settled into my seat and prepared to watch the races.
“First up, Tory and Trent. Let’s test this relationship and see who’s the better driver,” Brad said in his best announcer voice, eyebrows waggling in invitation.
Tory turned on the TV and started the gaming console, familiar cartoon racing characters filling the screen. Trent and Tory selected their avatars and settled on the floor, shoulders bumping.
“I hope you’re ready to eat my dust,” Tory said sweetly.
Trent just snorted.
The race began, and the two were off. Trent kept quiet, intensity radiating off him as he drove, wheeling around corners and using every advantage he could to slow Tory. Tory, on the other hand, was loud. Trash-talking as she passed Trent, bumping his shoulder when she happened to fall behind. The race quickly finished with a triumphant shout from Tory and a groan from Trent.
“Victory!” Tory stood, shaking her hips in victory as she handed the controller to Brad for the next race.
Trent shook his head, grumbling something about Tory having an unfair advantage before he walked to the bean bag in the corner and pulled out his phone.
The tournament continued, the racers sitting on the floor while the rest of us watched from the couches and bean bag. Trash-talking and friendly jostling filled each race. When it was finally my turn, I was pitted against Tory for the first race.
I quickly proved my ineptitude, struggling to turn corners and hit the correct buttons.
“I know wandering does not equate to being lost, but to win the race you have to go forward,” Grey teased as I got spun around and drove in the wrong direction for a moment before finally getting turned back around.
“Watch it,” I gritted back, attempting to stay on the racetrack and not fall off into a pool of water.
My struggle did not stop Tory from egging me on, talking about how I was going down. Even though her victory had been guaranteed, she still cheered when she crossed the finish line for the third and final time, beating me by more than a lap.
“That’s right! Who’s the champion? Oh, that would be me.” Tory pointed to herself with both thumbs and did a shimmy dance as she strutted to the couch and sat down.
“All right, that was…entertaining,” Brad said, recording the results of the latest match in his notebook.
“I think the word you’re looking for is painful,” I said, trying not to let my frustration show. I didn’t play video games because, to put it gently, I sucked. Growing up, I hadn’t had access to a console—we definitely couldn’t have afforded one. Instead, I’d spent hours listening to my mom’s old tapes and CDs or playing outside. If this was classic rock trivia, I’d be dominating.
“Get ready for the final match! We’re almost ready for the next round.” Brad waved the notebook with enthusiasm.
So far, only Trent had been eliminated from racing in round two. He’d gone up against Brad in his second race and lost by a hair. His reaction had been to throw down the controller and stalk off into The Cave. He’d yet to come back. I was slightly envious of his chance to go to bed.
“I can save you the trouble of watching another race. I guarantee I’ll lose this round too,” I said on a yawn. A look at my phone made me flinch as I realized it was well after midnight. The lack of sleep on this trip was going to kill me.
“And deprive me of going up against your impressive skills? I don’t think so!” Grey stretched out on the floor next to me, holding the controller Tory had been using.
“We both know how this is going to end,” I persisted.
“Come on, it’ll be fun.” Grey bumped me with his shoulder before selecting the next race and pressing start. “Who knows? You may even surprise yourself.”
No words could describe the chaos that followed. I continued to struggle driving, and yet somehow, Grey managed to stay behind me. He ran over every trap and repeatedly fell off the track. At one point, I was certain he’d taken his finger off the gas button, though I couldn’t see his controller well enough to be sure.
Far longer than it should have taken, I drove across the finish line for the third time, finishing the race. Grey followed right behind me, ending the torture, much to everyone’s relief.
“You let me win!” I turned to face Grey, watching as he schooled his features into a neutral expression.
“No, I didn’t,” he said, shaking his head.
“Really? Because I watched you decimate Brad.” I stood, hands on my hips, looking at Grey, who sat cross-legged on the floor pretending all was right with the world.
Brad spoke up in outrage. “Decimated is a strong word. I—”
Grey cut Brad off with a chuckle, pushing to his feet to stand toe to toe with me, hands in his pockets, a grin peeking through his beard. “Maybe beating Brad was a lucky fluke. Or maybe you’re better than you give yourself credit for.” He flashed me a wink before settling on one of the couches and patting the cushion next to him. “Either way, you’re still in the game. Might as well get comfortable.”
“I know you cheated,” I muttered under my breath as I settled next to him, choosing to ignore how much I enjoyed his closeness and woodsy aroma.
“Maybe, but you’ll never prove it.” Grey slung his arm around my shoulders and pulled me in close to his side. “Might as well enjoy the show. Cheer me on to victory, and all that.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and grumbled under my breath about cheating, self-satisfied men. But I didn’t push away from Grey’s side. I told myself it was because he was warm and the basement was frigid, but the way I leaned in to catch hints of his familiar smell said otherwise.
We continued playing into the wee hours of the morning. I was immediately eliminated with my next race, this one against Kylie, who showed no mercy. But at that point, I was too comfortable sitting next to Grey. Not to mention, I wanted Grey to win, if for no other reason than to prove that he’d cheated by letting me win our match. Or at least, that’s what I told myself.