Page 52 of Wild About You
“Are you sure?” Finn calls back.
No, but he clearly doesn’t want to hear that at the moment. And he’s right—we don’t have all the time in the world. What other option do I have? Hell, Meena and Cammie are probably halfway to whatever nice hotel stay they win for this challenge. Though in truth, the best prize would be not having to participate in any more activities involving serious risk of life and limb.
“Yes,” I say, more forcefulness to it than I feel.
I take a few deep breaths, then approach the ropes, putting my hands on the top one. I am gonna eat this creek for breakfast.
* * *
My breakfast has never made me so furious.
“FUCK!” My shout echoes through the trees, along with the loud splash as I hit the water a second time.
I maintain that the first time was Enemi’s fault. She and Zeke argued over waiting until I was across to start their trek, but against his protests, she hopped right on before I was even halfway over the creek. Her shaking of the ropes immediately made me lose my balance, and I dropped down, the only blessing being that I landed on my feet in waterproof boots.
This time, I wasn’t as lucky. I did land on my feet, but unsteadily, and fell to my knees in the shallow creek. One got cut on a rock and both my palms are now scraped up with rope burn. As I trudge back to the bank, I let out a groan-scream that’s likely as painful to everyone’s ears as it is to my throat. Zeke gives me a sad, apologetic smile as he shuffles his way across the ropes.
When I’m almost to the starting point, Harper and Evan step on, one after the other, taking the Meena-Cammie tandem-crossing approach. And while I’m pleasantly shocked to see they overtook Karim and Max somewhere, they’re still knocking Finn and me down one more notch in the standings.
Finn, a little more urgency in his encouraging tone now, shouts over, “Hey, you got this, okay? Take a breath. You can do it, Nat. Just stay focused, hang on, keep your balance—”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” I yell. Harper startles midway across the rope, giving Evan and her both a little bounce.
Finn must have some sense of how unhelpful his advice is. It’s every woman and her bleeding hands and knee for themselves out here. But the frustration and desire to be done with this already are starting to grow stronger than the anxiety. I feel less shaky as I climb up again, just after our friends have made it to the other side. I try not to hold the rope with the most scraped up parts of my palms, but it’s still painful. The pain makes me almost dissociate, block out everything except moving forward so I can stop holding this rope and treat what hurts.
“Natalie, you’re doing great,” I vaguely hear Finn say. Well, that’s good. Some encouragement, unprompted and without any extra attempt at motivational speaking or telling me what to d— “See, you can crush this stuff when you really push yourself!”
My steps falter but miraculously, I don’t go down. Does he think I only just started pushing myself? That my very real anxiety has actually just been, what, me not trying hard enough to be chill?
“And no pressure, take your time. Just want you to know Karim and Max are right behind you and they’re the only team left after us, okay? But we’re ahead and you can do this.”
No pressure! Take my time! Sure!!!
I bite down on the frustrated beast-scream I want to unleash. Does it seem like I’m anything less than fully aware we’re in the last two teams?
I feel the rope bounce, and don’t look to see if it’s Max, Karim, or both bearing down on me. I do pause for some of the initial bouncing to settle, and apparently this is all it takes for Finn to decide it’s Yes Pressure time.
“Nat! It’s now or never! Do you really want this to be what loses us the hundred K?”
When I hear the splash, I first think it’s from me again. Woman down, brutally felled by her partner’s complete lack of faith in her, that she was stupid to think ever went away. But I’m still on the rope, holding on for all I’m worth—which may or may not be one hundred thousand dollars. Finn probably leans toward not.
It’s frustration and spite that push me forward without responding. Even as my fingers hurt, even as I kind of want to cry for reasons both identifiable and not, even as my whole body quakes with lingering nerves or perhaps a dash of fresh rage, I keep on.
When, at last, I set one foot on the solid ground at the far creek bank, Finn reaches for my waist and hauls me the rest of the way down, pulling me into a hurried hug. I don’t return it, though he doesn’t seem to notice before dropping his arms and pulling me by my red, roughed-up hand the rest of the short way down the trail to the Wild Adventures flag and a clapping, smiling Burke Forrester.
I barely register Burke’s words, just the fact that we are not the last team. He and Finn talk back and forth about the challenges today and yesterday. I would add my two cents, but I don’t think I’m human anymore. By my scientific calculations, I’m a barely sentient blob made up of thirty percent exhaustion, twenty percent open wounds, fifty percent mad-sad, the ratios of the former to the latter changing by the second.
The mad is partly directed toward my teammate. The guy who’s been so encouraging and supportive, a good ally at plenty of points in this journey, even more than an ally at others. His impatience with me, the patronizing, all of it stung.
More than that, though, I’m mad at myself. Because Finn was right, ultimately—I could have been the reason we got sent home today instead of Max and Karim. My anxious, screwed-up brain, which I thought was doing so well in this experience, has turned on me as the challenges have grown more intense. It’s getting in my way as it always seems to do in the end, making it painfully obvious to everyone that I’m not cut out for this stuff.
And why did I ever think this wouldn’t be the case? Even if I had my shit together mentally, it’s not like I was ever going to be physically strong or outdoorsy enough to not only keep up, but beat out everyone else in a fierce competition for $100,000 that I really fucking need.
I probably deserved to lose today. This feeling intensifies as I watch Karim and Max make it to the top and approach the checkpoint, defeat evident in every inch of their bodies. I have to turn away as Burke hands down their fate and Max starts to get emotional about how much this experience has meant to him, my own eyes stinging once again.
Finn and I are still here, but it doesn’t feel like we have much longer. And it really doesn’t feel like any kind of win.
Chapter Twenty