Page 56 of Wild About You
Finn stands and paces back and forth a couple times before facing me again. “What good does thinking about that do you now? Obsessing over should’ve, could’ve, would’ves has the potential to screw yourself out of an amazing experience and winning a lot of money, and if you don’t care about that for you, then care about it for me. Care that you’d be screwing me out of it too.”
My stomach plummets to the forest floor, and I feel suddenly lower than the thousands of microorganisms that my AT e-books tell me live in the dirt. That’s the last thing I want at this point, to ruin Finn’s chance to win. And I know it’s exactly where I’m headed.
But then he gives me whiplash as he steers this speeding train of a conversation in a different direction.
“Should we go over all the amazing things you’ve done here?” He sounds frustrated still, but also defensive. Of me. “Building fires, riding horses, assembling tents, rappelling down a fire tower repeatedly, hauling a backpack that’s bigger than you across whole mountains? Let alone keeping both of us going when my bad attitude makes me want to give up. Making me laugh, brightening my days, turning my world upside down on a mini golf course—any of that ring a bell?”
Even as I’m still fighting the anxiety current that wants to pull me under, his words make my stomach do a flip. I’m not used to this, someone working so hard to convince me that I’m awesome. It’s not familiar or comfortable, and I don’t know how to respond.
Finn’s gaze tracks over my face, probably trying to determine if he should continue his praise dump. I don’t want that to happen, so I give him a small smile and hesitant nod. “It rings a bell.”
“Good,” he says, kneeling before me again. “Can you believe me when I tell you how great you are, then, and how lucky I am to be with you? I’m already begging on my knees but I can lie flat on the ground if I need to.”
My smile grows against my will, and I even let out a small laugh as I shake my head. “No, the nice hotel people just did your laundry. Don’t destroy their hard work so soon.”
The double sleeping bag feels less cozy and exciting when we crawl in tonight, and more like a really tough setup for hiding my true feelings. I’ve never been so conflicted, so warmed and comforted by someone’s support and yet still so sure that I’m causing more problems for either of us than is necessary. I curl up against Finn but my thoughts are too scattered to the emotional hurricane winds for much kissing or cuddling. I’m already past the worst of my period, but thankful for the convenient excuse of cramps when I roll away from him. It’s only a few inches between us but I wonder, as Finn pops his earplugs in again, if he also feels it like a sign. One representing the gulf between us, our lives, our futures, that will only get wider from here.
Chapter Twenty-One
One of the first things I do after a restless night under rainy skies is drop my toothbrush on the ground. A bug is trapped in the toothpaste-covered bristles, surrounded by soil and dead leafy bits, buggy legs barely twitching with life, and all I can think is same.
I’m still sure that I shouldn’t be here, that it’s only a matter of time before everyone sees it once and for all. Maybe today is the day I go home. I’ll be sad, of course, and I dread figuring out how I’ll afford school now. But I guess I won’t be all that surprised. Mostly, I’ll feel even guiltier that Finn got paired with me. I keep hearing him in my mind on repeat, telling me I’m screwing over his chance of winning. Asking if the rope crossing was really how I wanted to lose a hundred K. Even if those were throwaway comments in the heat of the moment, they were fair. He deserves better, someone who can stay focused and optimistic and not be their own worst enemy in this thing. If there was a way for him to stay and win the money without me dragging him down, I just know I’d take it.
He can tell I’m off, too, though maybe he thinks it’s still my period. This might actually be the one instance in the history of the world in which I’ve wanted a man to think I’m in a bad mood because it’s my time of the month. Better that than us having another conversation about getting my shit together, a thing I am categorically incapable of doing at this point.
But I am capable of trudging on into the next challenge with the eagerness of one walking to the guillotine. The ground squishes beneath our boots as all the teams surround Burke Forrester in our usual semicircle. He looks oddly solemn today, and combined with the gray, misty sky and the very few teams left on either side of Finn and me, it’s not helping my own inner doom and gloom.
“Co-EdVenturers,” Burke says, voice matching his expression. “You and your teammates began this journey as strangers. Unlike most of our seasons, you didn’t come in with a familiar partner, someone you know and with whom you are prepared to tackle every obstacle. You were paired at random with a fellow student, each of you from completely different backgrounds and experiences, and together you have faced the most intense, fast-paced adventure of your lives.
“For some of you, this has gone better than it has for others. Close friendships have formed, strong bonds that will endure long after you’ve left these woods. And in other cases, well…” He gives us an awkward grimace. “You may have spent time pondering how best to push each other off a mountain.”
The group laughs just as awkwardly, no one looking directly at Zeke and Enemi. I feel my nerves begin to buzz, the half of a bagel I had for breakfast not loving its new home in my stomach, wondering where this is going and if perhaps Burke can read minds. Specifically, mine from the last twelve hours.
“At this stage and with the unique setup of this season, we are offering you an opportunity that we’ve never offered before. You will all have the option to change partners.”
I’m pretty sure every one of us remaining lets out a gasp or some form of “WHAT?” Burke tries to look serious, though his eyes glimmer with the delight of throwing a sufficiently shocking curveball. He holds up both hands palms-out. “Now, wait a moment. Before we get any further into how this will work, you will all be blindfolded. We want everyone to make their decision based on their personal wants and needs, without any influence from their partner or others. You will not be allowed to confer with each other over the choice, even in nonverbal ways.”
My wide eyes meet Finn’s beside me. Just as we’ve been told not to communicate nonverbally, I have a split-second to see…I’m not exactly sure what on his face. Uncertainty? Panic? Even a preemptive apology? I know he tried so hard to convince me he wants to be by my side, but that’s when there wasn’t another option. Surely he sees the gift he’s been given here. A free pass to ditch the dead weight. The one screwing him over.
He deserves to take it. Still, I’m a tumble of about seventy-two different emotions. Producers file in from either side of the group, tying blindfolds around our eyes. Ginger, my old pal, appears at my back.
“Ready?” she asks with an encouraging smile.
I nod even as I’m unsure if that’s true, and she wraps the piece of fabric loosely around my head, securing it over my ponytail.
“Okay,” Burke continues once all our eyes are covered. “You will now be handed two signs. The one in your right hand says switch while the one in your left says stay. These are what you will use to signal your choice when I tell you to do so. The catch is that both partners must choose to switch in order for a switch to be made. If they answer differently, they will default to staying partners. Additionally, if only one team chooses to switch, there will be no other options of teammates for them, so they must remain together. Are there any questions?”
While I’m unable to see, I can feel the tension rolling through the group in waves. This changes everything. Even if, in the end, the circumstances aren’t right for any teams to switch partners, the whole dynamic will be altered by knowing anyone wants to switch.
A heavy weight settles in my gut as I know what I need to do. What Finn, if he has any sense of self-preservation, will do. And even as I want this for him, know it’s for the best, it makes my heart ache.
I tell myself that it’s been good, what we’ve had, though it feels like we’ve only just gotten started. It becomes clearer every day that I’m a mess, probably the kind who shouldn’t be getting into a relationship anyway, on top of being a shitty teammate. This is an easy out from both partnerships, isn’t it? Out of sight, out of mind, out of heart and tent and damned shared sleeping bag.
“Remember,” Burke’s serious voice calls out again. “Right to switch, left to stay. We will start the clock now, and you have one minute to hold up your choice.”
I can practically hear the Final Jeopardy music in my head, prodding me to wager all my money. That’s really what this is, when it comes down to it. I’m wagering my money, in a way. I know I’m not going to be the winner in the end, making my exit a merciful one. One that allows Finn a chance to Ken Jennings his way to the $100,000 he deserves.
He just needs to choose it, too.