Page 17 of Playing for Keeps

“Yeah, must’ve been,” I said.

Ali looked around at whoever was coming up behind us.

“Did you do mud runs in Japan, Hunter?”

“Nah, we did lava runs instead. They’d take us to an active volcano and make us dodge the lava bombs. They don’t muck around over there.”

Shit. Hearing Luke’s familiar deep voice made me feel as if I’d already gotten a face full of dirt.

Ali’s eyes bulged. “Really?”

“He’s just making up shit,” I muttered. Because this was what Luke and I did back in the day. Created wild theories about anything and everything. Luke came across all serious, but he had this dry sense of humor that made me laugh more than anyone else could.

He and I had once convinced our classmates that our Year Seven teacher Mr. Donald was a spy from an underground race of goblins.

I couldn’t control the ache in my throat as I thought about that now.

I met Luke’s gaze. His dark eyes stared back for a few heartbeats, then he glanced away.

Coach blew his whistle to get our attention, diverting me from the memory lane I’d inadvertently wandered down. Now I was back on About-to-Get-Filthy street. Which sounded so much more fun than the reality of struggling through sticky mud.

Sure enough, when it was my turn, I’d barely made it through the first shallow ditch before I was caked in the stuff.

And the next obstacle was a series of hay bales. Turns out mud was a special type of glue, meaning I emerged looking like a disheveled scarecrow.

As I ran toward the hurdles, I was suddenly aware of footsteps pounding right behind me. I flicked a glance over my shoulder.

Luke.

Luke about to overtake me.

Like hell that was going to happen.

I put on a burst of speed. I didn’t have to look sideways to know he’d matched my pace.

Shit. As we sprinted, I regretted every slice of ham and bowl of Christmas pudding I’d eaten over the summer break.

We reached the next mud pond and both of us plowed through at top speed, neither pulling back to stay out of each other’s splash zone.

Mud flew everywhere.

My heart pumped wildly and my whole body buzzed.

Luke and I had always been like this. Competing over everything, pushing each other. I probably wouldn’t have been a professional athlete if I hadn’t spent my childhood and teenage years trying to keep up with him. We’d spurred each other to be faster, better. But there had always been a good-natured edge to our competition that was missing now.

I sent a glance sideways, and the tilt of Luke’s jaw suggested he’d rather go to line dancing lessons than lose to me right now.

I felt exactly the same way.

We emerged from the pond neck-and-neck and threw ourselves onto the rope net, both frantically climbing. The rope was rough against my hands, the grit and mud together acting like sandpaper.

But I wasn’t about to let something as minor as having my skin rubbed raw stop me beating my former best friend.

I made it to the top first, but over the sound of my own puffing, I could hear Luke right behind me.

My right foot snagged on the webbing on my way down, and my leg jolted to a stop while the rest of my body kept on moving. It was like being caught in a spider web.

By the time I’d disentangled my leg and made it to the bottom, I had a view of Luke’s muscular back two yards ahead.