Page 25 of The Big Race

Teams Like Us

I was still catching my breath when I noticed Fletcher and Adrienne watching us from a few feet away. They’d finished the challenge shortly before us, and Fletcher was still wiping monkey poop from his hands.

“Good climb,” Ray called out to them, always the good sport. “You guys made that hill look easy.”

Fletcher nodded curtly, his buzz cut gleaming with sweat. “Thanks. You weren’t too bad yourselves.”

There was something in his tone that made me bristle slightly. A hint of surprise, as if our performance had defied his expectations.

“We’re still in this,” I said, taking a long drink from my water bottle.

Adrienne adjusted her tight ponytail, her eyes flicking between Ray and me. “You know, we had you guys pegged as early eliminations.”

Ray raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Why’s that?”

She hesitated, exchanging a glance with Fletcher. “No offense, but this competition is very physical. We figured it would favor teams like us.”

“Teams like you?” I echoed.

“You know,” Fletcher said with a shrug that was deliberately casual. “Military training. Peak physical condition.”

“As opposed to...?” Ray prompted, though I could tell from the set of his jaw that he knew exactly what they were implying.

Adrienne at least had the decency to look uncomfortable, but Fletcher pressed on. “Look, we’re just surprised, that’s all. Most gay guys we know are more into... different kinds of activities.”

“Like what?” I asked, my voice deliberately light despite the anger bubbling up.

Fletcher snorted. “I don’t know. Shopping? Brunch?”

“Maybe there’ll be a drag challenge on the route,” Adrienne added with a laugh that she quickly stifled.

Ray stepped forward, and for a moment I thought he might say something he’d regret. Instead, he smiled—that salesman smile that never quite reached his eyes.

“You know what’s funny?” he said. “I played Division 1 basketball in college, and then professionally in Europe. I’ve completed fourteen triathlons.

Jeffrey here has hiked the Appalachian Trail and scaled Half Dome in Yosemite.

” None of this was true about me, but I appreciated the lie.

“But sure, we also know how to coordinate our outfits.”

Fletcher’s confidence faltered slightly. “No disrespect intended, man. Just making conversation.”

“None taken,” Ray said, still smiling. “And just so you know, if there is a drag challenge, we’ll crush that too. I’ve got great legs.”

I choked back a laugh as the military couple shifted awkwardly.

“We should get going,” Adrienne said, tugging at Fletcher’s arm. “Need to prep for the next leg.”

As they walked away, I heard Fletcher mutter, “They’re still not going to make it to the finals.”

Ray turned to me, his fake smile replaced by genuine determination. “We are absolutely going to beat those two.”

“They’re younger and fitter,” I said, playing devil’s advocate even though their comments had stung.

“And clearly not as smart,” Ray countered. “Did you see how they tackled that puzzle back in Panama? Brute force, no strategy.”

I nodded, remembering how they’d wasted precious minutes trying every combination of the phrases rather than working out what they meant.

“Besides,” Ray added, “nothing motivates me more than proving narrow-minded people wrong.”

I remembered then why I’d fallen for him all those years ago. Behind the competitive athlete and smooth-talking salesman was a man who never backed down from a challenge—especially when someone told him he couldn’t do something.

“You know what?” I said. “I hope there is a drag challenge. I’ve always thought you’d look great in heels.”

Ray laughed, a genuine sound that cut through my lingering anger. “Only if you promise to do my makeup. I’ve seen your steady hands.”

I noticed Ray looked flushed, his movements slower than usual. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“Just hot,” he said, fanning himself. “This humidity is brutal.”

I checked his forehead with the back of my hand – a gesture so automatic it took me a moment to realize its intimacy. “You feel warm. How much water have you had?”

Ray shook the bottle. “Almost out.”

I opened my pack to offer him my spare bottle, only to find it was also nearly empty. The combination of jungle heat and physical exertion had caused us to drink more than anticipated.

“We’ve got extra,” Ernie said, passing back two full water bottles. “George always overpacks.”

“Boy Scout habit,” George explained. “Always be prepared.”

“Thanks,” I said, genuine gratitude in my voice as I handed a bottle to Ray. “We owe you.”

“Consider it a thank you for the help in the past,” Ernie replied with a wave of his hand. “Besides, dehydration is no joke in this climate.”

Over the next few hours, the remaining teams checked in: the sorority sisters, the gay friends, the NBA wives, the male models, and the doctors. Last to arrive were the food truck owners, looking exhausted and irritable.

“Jenny and Carlos,” Julie said solemnly, “you are the last team to arrive. I’m sorry to tell you that you have been eliminated from the race.”

The chefs nodded, clearly having expected this outcome. During their exit interview, it became apparent they had argued extensively during the climb, wasting precious time blaming each other for navigation errors.

We were given clear directions to our accommodations for the night, a rustic hotel at the edge of the park. As we climbed back down the trail to where we’d parked the rental car Ray pulled me aside.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“For what?”

“For today. For pushing yourself with everything. For making me laugh when we were both covered in... well, you know.”

I smiled. “It’s been a while since we laughed together like that.”

“Too long,” Ray agreed. He hesitated, then added, “I’ve missed it. Missed us.”

That evening, showered and pleasantly exhausted, we settled into the hotel room that had been assigned to us. The race organizers had even provided fresh clothes to replace our monkey-poop-stained outfits.

Ray came out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry. “I think I finally got that smell out of my nostrils,” he said with a wry smile.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” I replied. “I think monkey poop might be a permanent part of our olfactory memory now.”

He settled on the bed in his boxers, his reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose, looking at a map of Venezuela. “Tomorrow morning they’re probably going to send us back to the airport and on to the next country,” he said.

“I hope it’s a country with indoor plumbing,” I said.

Ray took his glasses off and put them on the bedside table, along with the map. “You were great today, babe,” he said. “Those NBA wives couldn’t hold your bedroom slippers,” Ray said. He ran his finger back and forth over the bottom of my neck, the only part showing above the towel.

Though his touch was delicate, his fingers were rough and calloused, and I shivered. “You like that?” he asked, nuzzling my neck. His hand slipped beneath the towel and his finger started tracing circles around my nipple.

The room was filled with a soft, warm glow from the setting sun, casting long shadows that danced gently on the walls. Ray and I stood facing each other, the air thick with a mix of tension and longing. His eyes, filled with a familiar warmth, met mine, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Ray’s hand reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against my cheek. The touch was gentle, almost hesitant, but it sent a shiver down my spine. I closed my eyes, savoring the sensation, feeling the weight of the past few months lift ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. The sincerity in his tone was palpable, and it tugged at my heartstrings. I opened my eyes to find him closer, his breath mingling with mine.

“I know,” I replied softly, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside me. Our foreheads touched, and we stayed like that for a moment, just breathing each other in.

Ray’s hand moved from my cheek to the nape of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair. The gesture was intimate, familiar, and it brought back a flood of memories. Good ones, before everything got complicated. I let out a soft sigh, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease.

His other hand found mine, our fingers intertwining naturally, as if they had never been apart. The warmth of his touch spread through me, a comforting reminder of the love we had shared for so many years.

Slowly, Ray leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in a tender, almost reverent kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of apologies and forgiveness, of love and longing. I responded in kind, my lips moving softly against his, feeling the familiar contours of his mouth.

The kiss deepened, becoming more passionate but still tender. Our bodies pressed closer, the heat between us growing. Ray’s hands moved to my waist, pulling me against him, and I felt his heartbeat, strong and steady, against my chest.

We broke apart for a moment, our breaths ragged, eyes locked. There was a silent understanding between us, a promise to try again, to rebuild what had been broken. Ray’s lips curved into a small, hopeful smile, and I couldn’t help but mirror it.

“I love you,” he said, his voice filled with emotion.

“I love you too,” I replied.

The towel and his boxers were discarded, not out of haste or lust, but out of a need to be closer, to feel each other’s skin, to reconnect on a deeper level.

We took our time, exploring each other’s bodies with gentle touches and soft kisses, rediscovering the familiar terrain that had been neglected for too long.

In that moment, we were not just two men in their mid-forties with a troubled past. We were lovers, rekindling a flame that had never truly gone out. The room filled with the soft sounds of our lovemaking, a symphony of whispered endearments and shared breaths.

As we moved together, the world outside faded away. There was only us, only this moment, only the love that had brought us together and kept us together for so many years.

Afterward, we lay entwined, our bodies slick with sweat, our hearts beating in sync. Ray’s arm was draped over my chest, his head resting on my shoulder. I could feel his breath, warm and steady, against my skin.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice filled with gratitude.

“For what?” I asked, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back.

“For giving us another chance,” he said, looking up at me with eyes filled with love and hope.

It was a little extra benefit to being the only married couple left in the race. The gay couple weren’t lovers, just friends. Adrienne and Fletcher were both Mormons, and they’d pledged not to have sex until after they were married.

I’d seen the sorority sisters eying the male models hungrily, but the models were more interested in themselves than they were in the sisters. Alex and Ross been focusing on the race, coming in within the top five on every leg, with Gemini and Blaine before or after them.

After Ray dozed off, I lay there for a few minutes. We'd been more physically affectionate during the race than we had in months back home—holding hands, quick kisses, supportive touches—but this felt like a real reconnection.

The next morning we were already awake when Zoe knocked on our door to remind us we were due on camera soon. The real world was reasserting itself, reminding us that we were still in a race, still being filmed, still performing our reconciliation for an audience we couldn’t see.

“Ready to show them what we’re made of?” Ray asked, shouldering his backpack.

I nodded, feeling a surge of the competitive spirit that had brought Ray and me together in the first place. “Let’s make them eat our dust.”