Chapter 2
COLTON
I approach the old Victorian-style house precisely seven minutes after we end the video call with Shannon.
I’m moments away from knocking on Missy and Ji’s front door when Ji swings it open.
As always, Ji looks stylishly put together, dressed in flowy business slacks and a cream blouse, reminding me of something my mother would wear to one of her Women of Politics luncheons, which, come to think of it, Ji and her boss, Mrs. Delgado, were probably the event planners for.
“Nice of you to join the party,” Ji says, ushering me inside the house with her hand and a look that says This should be interesting.
“Party or funeral?” I ask.
“The jury’s still out, esquire,” Ji quips, amused.
“Funeral. May Colton rest in pieces.” Missy throws me a lethal stare from where she stands at the end of the entryway hall, folding her arms across the jean dress that hugs her hourglass curves.
Though, objectively speaking, her ensemble tonight looks nice, it’s instantly overshadowed by her sparkly lucky shoes.
Of course she’d be wearing those shoes tonight.
She always does whenever it’s something important, but why, I don’t know.
Missy doesn’t need luck. She’s already a walking rabbit-foot.
If she wants something, she gets it. Prom Queen.
Check. Full-ride scholarship to the University of Tennessee.
Check. Miss Tennessee State. Check. Contestant on her favorite show. Check.
Missy gives me a smile that some might say belongs to a princess who sings to animals in the woods, but I know better. Behind that perfect smile is a vicious piranha ready to bite my head off if I get too close.
“Hey, Miss. If you wanted me to yourself, you didn’t need to nominate us. You simply had to ask,” I say, stoking the fire I know is already raging inside her.
“I’ll go get some popcorn.” Ji exits the front hallway and turns into the kitchen, leaving me with Missy Cat, claws out and ready to pounce.
You’d think after over a decade of knowing each other, we’d have worked out our differences, but we can’t resist. After years of insulting each other’s characters, we’re in too deep to let bygones be bygones. Enraging each other is a sport—one we are both professionals at.
Missy stalks toward me, her hazel eyes boring a hole in my skull, the intensity at odds with her soft golden hair and glittering accessories.
She stops several feet from me. With her heels on, Missy is several inches shy of my 6’2” height.
Without her heels … Well, I couldn’t say how tall she is—she’s pretty much been wearing them since I met her my freshman year of high school.
Missy raises a polished pink finger, pointing it at my chest. “You. You told all of us you were going to be gone this summer doing some job thing or … something!”
“I never said it had to do with a job. I said it was a project I was working on that may or may not take me out of town for a while. You see, I was being discreet. I was trying to keep the show secret. But you, on the other hand. You don’t know what it means to be discreet, do you?”
“That’s not true.” She clears her throat, and her eyes flick to the left. She’s lying her pretty little face off.
Suddenly, Paige pops out of the kitchen wearing stretchy green overalls that barely conceal her developing baby bump. “Hey, Colton! I can’t believe you guys are going to be on Sunsets and Sabotage. I’m going to live every second vicariously through you!”
Jordan comes up behind his wife and raises a brow at me. “So that thing you said you had going on tonight just happened to be talking with the showrunner of a reality show. No big deal.”
Ji. Paige. Jordan. How many people did Missy have listening in on our confidential video call?
Just then, Miles joins the hallway party. “Hey, Colton. Congrats. Can’t wait to see you and Missy really … tear it up out there.”
“I’ll tear something up all right,” Missy mumbles under her breath.
“Just maintain ten feet between the two of you at all times, and you guys might have a shot at winning this.” Jordan laughs before both he and Paige depart back into the kitchen.
Miles’s phone starts to ring, and he fishes it from his pocket before answering in a voice reserved purely for his new girlfriend. “Hey, Kaaa-tie. Guess what just happened to Colton and Missy …” His words fade as he disappears into the living room.
“Seriously, Missy, how many people did you tell? What will you do when we have to sign an NDA? NDA means Nondisclosure Agreement, by the way. Not ‘Naively Divulging All’ that comes to mind.”
“Oh funny, ’cause I thought it meant ‘Newly Doomed Allies,’ because that’s what we are. Besides, why does it matter? You and I both know that whether we open our mouths about this or not, this news is going to travel across Pine Lakes quicker than a cat on a hot tin roof.”
Just then, the chimes of the doorbell cut our argument in half.
“I’ll get it.” Ji scurries into the hallway once more, click-clacking her way across the wooden flooring. She stops in front of me and Missy. “Just as a warning, this is Mrs. Delgado at the door. She’s here to get the invitations for the Fireman’s fundraiser.”
I resist a groan and nod to Ji, thanking her for the forewarning, while also looking for the nearest window to jump out of. Mrs. Delgado has been trying to get me and Missy together since the moment her first matchmaking project, Jordan and Paige, said “I do.”
“I swear, your boss has a tracking device on us. She shows up whenever we’re remotely together,” I say to Ji.
Ji snorts out a laugh, not denying the claim. “You two just finish”—she waves a hand between me and Missy—“whatever insults you’re about to throw at each other, and I’ll take care of Mrs. Delgado.”
Neither Missy nor I protests. As much as I’d like to open that front door and chat with anyone but Missy, I came to her house to iron out a few things. Namely, how on earth we got partnered together for this show.
Missy and I leave the hallway and are just passing the kitchen when she jumps me from behind, shoving me into the powder bathroom. She flicks on the lights and closes the door behind us.
A shudder runs through me as I note the glob of toothpaste still in the sink and sense the proximity of my pant leg to the toilet seat. So many germs in such a small space. Out of all places to talk, the bathroom?
When I flick my eyes up to Missy, I don’t miss the glint in her eyes. Oh, she knew exactly what she was doing shoving me in here.
Missy leans against the door, looking angelic even in the dim lighting. She challenges me with a stare, daring me to try and leave.
I look down to find several long hairs near the trash can and try to stabilize my gag reflex.
I will hold my ground. Being closed in a bathroom with Missy is hardly the first twist to my night.
The TV show debut I thought would be a good idea an hour ago has now turned into something I’m regretting more and more with every passing second.
But a Downing always finishes what they’ve started. Turning back now isn’t an option.
“So, why did you do it?” Missy accuses.
“Do what?”
“Oh, I don’t know, nominate us? Maybe this is just some silly prank, or maybe you just want something fun to do, but this show actually means something to me.
” Missy’s eyes dart away, and she looks increasingly uncomfortable.
“I—I need this money, Colton. And I intend to win, with or without you.” Too soon, her hazel eyes are back on me.
“Why do you even want to go on this show anyway?”
My thoughts race as I scramble to defend myself.
I want to give her a solid reason, but truthfully, up until a month ago when I received the phone call that I’d been nominated and the show asked about my interest level, I’d only seen a couple of episodes.
But the idea of spending weeks outdoors, putting a brief pause on the mounting pressure post–law school seemed like just what I needed at the time.
And then came the talk with my dad, and suddenly this game became more than just an amusing getaway.
Missy uses my silence to condemn me. “You’re just doing this for the fun of it, aren’t you?” She shakes her head. “You have no reason for the money.”
“First, what’s wrong with doing something for the fun of it, Miss?” I reach out and chuck her chin, and she swiftly bats my hand away. I smirk. “And why can’t I be in it for the money? Five hundred thousand dollars is nothing to scoff at.”
“What, did Daddy take away your trust fund?” She jokes, but her words burrow into me, piercing a fresh wound. “Seriously, Colton, couldn’t you just leave this one thing for me? It may be all fun and games to you, but to me it’s more. So don’t get in my way—again.”
“Again? I believe it was you who started the high school rumor mill that got us kicked out of the student council election,” I say, rehashing our years-old argument.
Here’s the thing. Our junior year, Missy and I were both in the running for Student Council President at Pine Lakes High School. Every Downing in my immediate family has been Student Council President in their high school career, and this was my shot.
Well, Missy decided she also wanted to run.
And if two years of competing against Missy for the top-ranking student in our class had taught me anything, it’s that if she was running, I needed to step up my game.
Everything always came so easy to her. But that had never been the case for me.
So, I took a page from my dad’s book and started to campaign, working hard to make sure every student knew that I was running and what I could do for them if elected.
Apparently, Missy didn’t like that. So much so that she told one of her friends that my dad had paid the principal off to make sure I won. Missy’s friend ran with that, and thus began the Great Pine Lakes Rumor of junior year.