Page 56 of Ex Marks the Spot
Completing challenges together.
Sightseeing together.
Sleeping together—in hotels, I mean. (Although we probably would’ve done the other kind of sleeping together too.)
The point is, we would’ve had a blast on the show back then, and I’m starting to get the sense that we can have just as much fun now. Minus the non-sleeping sleeping together, of course.
Not that I’ve thought about that.
Okay, I did a few times.
Several times.
Fine, a whole damn lot but can you blame me? Court was insanely gorgeous in college, and the last six years have only served to improve upon his body. His heart, too, for that matter. Even if he was trying to impress the Bombshells when he punched that guy in Argentina, there wasn’t anyone else from the race with us in the jump pod so he didn’t need to be sweet and encouraging unless he’d wanted to.
Unless he’s playing the long game to impress someone back home.
The errant thought from the scorned side of my brain takes root before I can brush it away. It’s a basic fact that women across America will fall in love with Court when the show airs. If he’s trying to win someone over in Green Valley, playing the role of the nice guy hero is a guaranteed way to make that happen.
But what about the airplane snacks? And lending me his jacket? And?—
Duh—didn’t you already say he’s a nice guy? That’s why you fell in love with him in the first place.
I don’t appreciate the tone of voice from the logical side of my brain, but it’s not wrong. Court literally took the phrase “If you love someone, let them go” and broke his own heart so I’d get a shot at a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Then explain the infidelity, smartypants,my Scorned Brain says while illuminating a neon sign that says Cheater!Who was the woman he brought to Gallery Night? Is she the same one he hooked up with during that bachelor party weekend? Did he?—
Ugh! Enough!I silently shout to both sides of my brain.I already said I’m not dealing with this until I’ve slept, hydrated, and eaten a vegetable, so unless either of you has a cot, a water bottle, and some broccoli, I don’t want to hear another peep out of you.
Silence.
That’s what I thought.
The universe really wants me to think about Court.
I know this because of the two-hour nap I took on the drive to our next location, the bottle of sour plum drink we chugged to get our next clue, and the bamboo basket full of fruit waiting for us at our “What a Teas” challenge. It’s like the universe heard my inner monologue at Green Lake Park and said, “Ask and ye shall receive.”
Well, mostly receive.
I’m not fully hydrated yet and tangerines aren’t a vegetable, but the cosmic nudge gets a solid two and a half out of three. Even so, analyzing how I feel is still going to have to wait until tonight, because right now I’m dividing my attention between what the Bombshells are whispering to each other and how Court has managed to turn the act of rinsing tangerines in a shallow barrel into the kind of forearm porn people pay money to watch.
Focus. You can think about that one later, too.
Fixing my attention on the Bombshells, I lean toward Court and say, “Don’t look now, but are Gianna and Alexis acting weird?”
His head immediately pivots in their direction, earning him a playful whack on the arm from me. “I literally said, ‘Don’t look now.’”
“How was I supposed to tell if they’re acting weird if I can’t look at them?”
“I meant that you should’ve waited a few seconds so it didn’t seem like we were talking about them.”
“Duly noted.”
“Well?” I motion for him to continue talking.
“Well, what?”
“Are they acting weird?”