Page 13 of Winging It with You

Theo’s turn. He selects one pint that lists an ingredient, vanilla , but then another red X and puts them both back.

I quickly step forward, grabbing the vanilla pint he just put back and selecting another at random—a new ingredient, cream.

I roll my eyes but take a mental picture of where both ingredient pints are so I can start making pairs in my mind.

I notice that at least two other teams have made their way to the refrigerator.

Theo strolls back over to the grid, selecting another set of pints without any rhyme or reason. He shrugs when he realizes they’re both red X ’s and puts them back, his demeanor completely absent any sort of urgency.

Normally, I couldn’t care less about anything competitive. But with the lofty prize money on the line? The dreams I have for my science program—unrealistic or not—flash in my mind.

“Nice try, babe ,” I say when Theo makes it back to our table, hearing the twinge of annoyance that’s starting to build. “But it’s a race, remember?”

I watch as Theo’s brows pinch together before I jog over to our grid, and once there, I grab the pint I know says vanilla and reach for another.

Vanilla. Our first match. I run back to the table, placing the pints down as I pass by and continue to the massive fridge—shaking my head at Theo’s unwarranted but kinda cute congratulatory cheers.

It takes me no time at all to locate the small container with vanilla written on it, and within seconds, I’ve grabbed it and emptied its contents into our mixer, the sweet aroma of the vanilla extract trailing behind me.

Back and forth Theo and I go to the grid in the hope of finding the rest of our matches. He’s picked up the pace, which I’m thankful for, but neither of us has made another match, and I can feel myself getting frustrated.

Just as a not-so-subtle comment disguised as encouragement is on the tip of my tongue, he randomly procures a match from the wall: condensed milk.

Theo runs toward the fridge, athletically avoiding two of our rivals who turned at the same time to collect their own supplies, and races back to our table to pour the contents into the mixer.

After about a dozen rounds of back-to-back red X ’s, Theo matches sea salt and quickly gets that added to our mixture.

I fail to find a match on my next turn, but Theo unexpectedly matches our fourth ingredient, cream , and runs off toward the fridge.

There’s no way of knowing how many matches our competition has found at this time, but it makes me feel a hell of a lot better about our standing knowing we only have one more ingredient remaining.

However, neither Theo or I find a match on our next two turns, and any hope I had quickly evaporates.

Theo finally selects a pint labeled milk , but unfortunately, pairs it with yet another red X . I watch as his shoulders slump in frustration.

I go to grab the milk pint he just put back and do my best to remember the zones we haven’t been routinely pulling from.

While it isn’t necessarily a strategy, I’ve been mentally sectioning our grid into smaller ones that I’ve rotated between with each turn.

Right or wrong, it’s how my brain makes sense of things like this.

Out of frustration, I snatch for the pint almost dead center of the grid and hope for the best.

Milk .

Finally. I flash the lid to Theo, who throws his fists in the air in exhausted celebration, and I take off toward the fridge in search of our final ingredient.

“Come on, milk…where are you?” I mutter to myself as I rummage through the various containers. I’d imagine it would be in some sort of glass. Maybe a pitcher?

I spot it just as I get bumped from behind. Hard.

It’s Jackson. “Move,” he growls, pushing past me to grab whatever ingredient he needs.

Oh, hell no.

Gripping the handle of the thick plastic pitcher, I quickly but carefully make my way back toward our station, where Theo is standing next to the waiting mixer, a wide grin plastered across his face.

The pitcher is oddly heavy, and some milk sloshed over its rim on my way back.

Even though I’m using both hands, I don’t have confidence in my wet grasp.

“Here, let’s do it together…” he says, reaching for the handle as I’m about to start pouring it in.

“I’ve got it,” I snap despite my tenuous grip, but he ignores me, and something about this makes my blood boil.

“Wait, don’t…” I choke out, trying to maintain a solid grip on the handle—and my patience—but it’s too late.

His hand collides with my slick one, eliminating what little hold I had on the pitcher, and it slips straight through my fingers onto the ground in painful slow motion, the finale a big clang .

There’s an audible gasp from around the room as Theo and I are left dripping with our fifth and final ingredient.

A random bell goes off, and Dalton’s annoying voice returns booming throughout the room. “And we have a winner!” he shouts. I don’t even have to turn to face his general direction to know who won.

The twins.

I angrily wipe the milk from my eyes with the back of my hand.

I am completely soaked. The chilled liquid is sloshing in my shoes and dripping down my neck and I’m certain I swallowed more than a mouthful in shock amid the sudden dairy downpour.

What was Theo trying to do, grabbing the pitcher like that? Especially at the finish line.

We were this close to being done.

Movement around us ceases as the remaining pairs realize the challenge is over.

“What the hell was that?” I hiss when I turn to face him.

Theo flinches, his facial expression unrecognizable, shifting quickly from stunned to remorseful to entirely confused.

“I’m sorry, I just thought…” His voice trails off, his gaze dropping to the floor. “It was an accident.”

“An accident! Theo, that was just plain careless,” I bark.

I’m more confused than anything. Neither one of us had helped the other like that with any of the other ingredients.

“I said I had it and you didn’t listen to me,” I press, realizing this has very little to do with Theo and everything to do with the fact that I’ve spent the last few years being ignored by Clint.

Disregarded.

Belittled.

Like who I am and what I bring to the table were so insignificant that it was the easiest thing in the world to just wave me off.

“I said I had it,” I repeat, my voice a mere whisper this time.

He opens his mouth to say something but decides against it.

“Uh-oh…sounds like there’s trouble in paradise.” Shit. Dalton’s voice reminds me of where I am and the fact that Arthur has been hovering just out of sight the entire time.

He for sure just got all that on camera.

Great.

Epic Trek ? More like Epic Disaster.

/////////////

Theo isn’t in our hotel room when I finally make my way back up there.

Even though I want nothing more than to watch as the remnants of our failed challenge wash down the tub drain, I decide against a quick shower because squashing the tension I created, figuring out a real path forward so that every challenge doesn’t end in one of us scolding the other, is far more important.

It doesn’t take long to find him.

He’s sitting on the side steps of the quaint hotel, a serene patio that stretches out into the wildness of the surrounding Vermont woods.

Theo’s leaning back on his hands looking up at the immense northern sky, whose colors are quickly fading from hues of pinks and burnt oranges to deep and endless blues.

I pray the peace offering I thought to grab on my way down will be enough to smooth things over.

I may not actually be dating Theo…but the last thing I’d want to do is make him feel a sort of way because of my shitty behavior.

I’m not myself right now. There’s no sugarcoating that Clint royally fucked every part of me that cared about anything, and while I can’t see that side of me going away anytime soon, I have no business being rude to be people who genuinely don’t deserve it.

People like Theo.

Especially because, and I know I have to do a better job of reminding myself of this, he is doing me a huge favor.

“Can I join you?” I ask, hoping the nerves in my voice aren’t as apparent to him as they are to me.

He looks up, unfazed and seemingly happy about my arrival. A warm and very much undeserved smile spreads across his face. “Of course.”

“I brought you something,” I say after I’ve sat down beside him, handing over the pint of ice cream I snagged from the production fridge when no one was looking.

Theo takes it from me, turning the container over in his hands.

“They sure do move fast,” he says, tapping the label with his thumb.

Bianca and Jackson’s Peanut Butter and Jelly in all caps is written in Sharpie across a piece of painter’s tape on the side of the pint.

“Think it’s any good?” he asks, raising an eyebrow in my direction.

“Let’s find out.” I pass him one of the spoons I brought with me as he pops open the container and sets the lid down on the cool paver between us.

The ice cream has melted slightly from my walk here in the summer heat, making it easier for him to scoop out a heaping spoonful before passing the pint back over to me.

The rich vanilla ice cream is complemented by the sweet and tart flavors of the blackberry jelly and, much like anything in life, the creamy peanut butter just makes it all the better.

“I hate to admit this,” he says, reaching for the pint again and taking another big spoonful. “But despite Bianca and Jackson being absolutely bitter human beings, they taste pretty damn good.”

He’s not wrong.

“Seriously—I could eat this all day,” I say, almost forgetting why I brought it in the first place. I sneak a glance at Theo, observing the smile still plastered across his face as he’s between bites. It reminds me that he just may be the happiest, most carefree human I’ve ever encountered.

Which ultimately makes me feel worse.

I exhale, smelling the sweetness of the jelly on my own breath. “I owe you an apology,” I say, my voice retreating like the colors of the sun. I can feel the heat radiating off his body the moment his head turns my way, but I don’t want to look at him.

Not yet.

“You really don’t.” There’s no emotion, good or bad, to his voice.

“No, but I do—” I catch him eyeing the pint of ice cream still in my hands. I pass it to him, which makes him smile once more. “I do, Theo,” I repeat as he sets the container down next to its lid, but not before taking another bite. “Today was—”

“A mess?” he says, finishing my sentence with a slight smile.

“A mess and unnecessary and I can only say how sorry I am for the way that I acted.”

He leans back on his hands again. “I don’t take that kind of stuff personally,” he says after a long moment, releasing the clutch his silence had on my heart.

“Still, I was wrong for how I treated you and I’m very, very sorry.” My apology lingers between us, leaving me worried both that it’s not enough and that my outburst earlier has definitely scared Theo off. I wouldn’t blame him—I’m usually much better about keeping everything bottled up.

“Most couples argue during tense moments, right?” he asks, picking up the pint again and taking another bite. He angles it in my direction, and I take it, our fingers grazing this time. “Most couples bicker and say things they don’t mean in moments of anger.”

He’s normalizing my reaction, which saddens me and makes me feel slightly better at the same time. “Of course, but…”

“They can move on from weird moments of conflict, especially when one or both parties apologize.”

I swallow the ice cream that’s now partially lodged in my throat. “Right…but we aren’t most couples .”

“Here, we are,” he says matter-of-factly. “Here, we are just like everyone else: a couple who has good days and bad days and everything in between.”

Theo sets his spoon down on the paver beside him and wipes his hands on his joggers.

“But I appreciate the apology…and the ice cream,” he says, nudging me with his shoulder.

“The challenges are only going to get harder from here and I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I can stomach a Bianca and Jackson victory lap. ”

Ugh. Just the thought of them winning another challenge makes my stomach knot. “I know.”

“But we’ll be okay. You and I are just figuring each other out,” he says, and I want to believe him.

But I’m frozen at the possibility that I’m damaged beyond repair.

That it’s only a matter of time before Theo realizes the colossal mistake he’s made, leaving me here to face this all alone. “As partners…and as a couple.”