Page 47 of Wild About You
That gets a real laugh out of me, one probably too loud for the quiet morning atmosphere in this breakfast area.
“Maybe predictable,” I whisper when I’ve composed myself, “but we’re on the same page. So that part’s a done deal. But maybe we, I don’t know, keep it quiet for now? It’s just that this is new, and people would have questions—lots of them—and it could become a whole storyline on the show, which is a lot of pressure.” I set my plate down on the counter so I can literally wring my hands. “It’s not that I want to hide how I feel about you. It just seems way easier to keep it between the two of us to start. To not let other opinions and stuff in when we don’t have to just yet, you know?”
I peer up at him, nervous he’s going to be offended that I don’t want to be with him out in the open, or argue back. But to my surprise, he nods, looking totally sure of himself. “Agreed. Let’s not let any more complications in than we have to.”
My eyes widen. “Did we just agree on something, completely and without extensive discussion?”
Finn gives me a skeptical look before going back to his careful fruit collection. “The fact that this surprises you so much is a great testament to what a strong couple we make.”
“Careful there, buddy.” I pick up my plate and turn to start back toward the table, tossing over my shoulder, “You’re wading into DTR territory.”
Chapter Eighteen
Finn turns out to be quite the capable actor in the role of Calm, Collected Guy Who Has Not Kissed The Hell Out Of Natalie, just as I’m crushing the role of Calm, Collected Girl Who Didn’t Melt Down Over Her Email Inbox This Morning. We chatted and laughed with the producers over breakfast—well, Finn didn’t do much of the latter, but I’m selfishly glad I have the monopoly on his ridiculous ho-ho-hos—then piled into a van and headed back to the trail. I was even able to take advantage of the good cell service before we had to give our phones back, googling “what to do if you get your period while camping.” The results were surprisingly helpful in mentally planning some practical aspects of my next few days.
Back at the clearing where the rest of the group is waiting with Burke Forrester, ready to kick off our next challenge, it’s both like a month has passed in twenty-four hours and like we never left at all.
“Finn, Natalie, welcome back!” Burke bellows once cameras are rolling. “How was your getaway? Relaxing?”
Yes and no, I think, a little shiver running down my spine as I remember the heart-pounding experience of getting acquainted with Finn’s lips, hands, body. But I also slept better in that big, cushy bed than I ever have or will in a tent.
So I answer with that part. Some of the others groan and call out their envy, so I grimace and try to look apologetic. I don’t think I pull it off.
“Well, I’m glad you’ve been able to rest and restore your energy, because you’re gonna need it for today’s challenge!”
Burke, bless his plastic little heart, is not exaggerating. We get our maps for the first leg and set off with gusto, all the teams packed close together as we hike to the next challenge site on the main AT. I don’t know if it’s the night away coloring my perception, or maybe how poorly things went for most everyone during the shelter-building challenge, but it feels like there’s a new bite in the air today, some extra layer of intensity and competitiveness between the remaining pairs. It could just be because there are fewer teams remaining—Enemi and Zeke, Karim and Max, Meena and Cammie, Evan and Harper, and Finn and me—and this is usually the point at which Wild Adventures picks up the pace, with more strenuous challenges and more frequent eliminations. That $100,000 is closer than ever.
But in the middle of it all, Finn and I are jog-hiking through the forest like a couple of happy Smurfs. It’s a little absurd.
“Okay,” I say, pressing a hand to the stitch in my side. Hard to say if it’s from the jogging, the laughing at Finn’s Burke Forrester impression, or my body doing its semi-regular preparation for the baby I don’t want in this decade. “(A) Can we slow down for a few, please, just a little, so I have some reserves left by the time we make it to the actual challenge?” I step to the side of the trail to lean against a tree, reaching up to click off my GoPro for the ten-minute-break privilege I haven’t used often. I nod for Finn to do the same, and once he does, whisper, “And (b) you’re gonna need to grunt or grumble something at me at some point while I’m filming today, or else viewers are gonna think you’ve been body-snatched.”
Finn leans on the tree beside me, not seeming to care about the gap between us and the rest of the teams widening as they keep walking. We know this challenge doesn’t hinge on the order we arrive at the site, as long as we all make it by the given start time, so we don’t need to out-hike anyone on this leg. He takes a sip from his water bottle, reminding me I should do the same, and stows it back in his pack before replying. “I haven’t been that bad.” When I just raise an eyebrow at him, he goes on. “Anyway, aliens couldn’t touch this body. It’s for your hands only.”
I spew the entire sip of water I just took onto the dirt in front of us. Finn’s laughter mixes with my hacking and coughing, echoing through the trees. When I can breathe again, I smack a hand against his taut stomach.
“You have got to warn me when Saucy Finn is making an appearance. My fragile being can’t handle it!”
He swings an arm around my shoulders and pulls me to his side, pressing a quick kiss to my temple. It’s so brief, so casually affectionate, and so so nice that I’ve lost my breath in a wholly different way than a moment ago. Definitely worth letting the others walk on without us.
“Your feedback has been received and will be passed on to Saucy Finn for future reference.”
My lungs don’t feel quite capable of taking a full breath for the rest of our hike, but I might just have to accept that as normal around Finn now. He has me on my toes, off my game, giving me butterflies like no one else has since my first middle school crush. And he makes it look so effortless.
It takes a conscious effort to force my mind back to the competition. My whole reason for being here. Not the guy holding the map alongside me and how good his forearms look while he does it.
My attention is easily reclaimed, however, when we make it to the tall, concrete structure that has clearly been commandeered for a Wild Adventures challenge. I have to tip my head all the way back to see to the very top. It’s about the height of my four-story dorm at Oliver, and looks like some kind of observation tower, capped with a round platform that looks out over the trees. People are up there, presumably hikers and tourists taking in the views from half of the platform, but the other half is empty, save for a couple familiar-looking Wild Adventures crew and a bunch of ropes that hang over the edge, equally spaced from one another and trailing all the way to the ground. My stomach lurches, not loving where this is heading.
We circle up with the other groups around Burke Forrester and the crew, who must’ve jet-packed over here to beat us hikers, and the camera operators start filming.
“Welcome to Kuwahi,” Burke announces. “This is the highest point on the entire Appalachian Trail, at an elevation of 6,643 feet. Today’s challenge is all about embracing that peak, the height to which we’ve all climbed.”
I look up at the tower again with a grimace.
“Behind me is the Kuwahi fire tower, built in 1959 by the National Park Service. It serves a variety of purposes, from allowing park rangers to spot forest fires to collecting data about unique weather patterns in the area. And at a height of fifty-four feet, it allows visitors to see views that, on a clear day, can be up to a hundred miles away. But we won’t be enjoying the scenery just yet.”
Has Burke’s smile grown more menacing with each challenge, or is it just me?
“Our challenge is called It’s Raining Co-Eds. Each member of your team will put on a harness and helmet, and receive a rain gauge that can hold ten inches of water. Taking turns with your partner, you will each climb up a ladder shared with the other teams to the top of the fire tower, fill your gauge with water, and hold it as you rappel back down the rope designated for your team, trying not to spill. Back on the ground, you’ll pour your water into your team’s bucket, which will hold eighty inches of rainfall—the annual average here—when filled to the orange line. Continue climbing the ladder, getting more water, rappelling down, pouring into the bucket, until the bucket is filled. The order in which teams finish will determine the order of your staggered go times to hike to the checkpoint tomorrow. Any questions?”