Page 22 of Winging It with You

Asher

Ria Formosa Natural Park

Algarve, Portugal

“You boys alright back there?” Arthur shouts over the thunderous sound of the wind from a van full of rolled-down windows.

Before we can respond—not that it would matter, because based on the massive grin on his face, Arthur is loving this—he takes a sharp right turn and continues speeding down the barely there path, while our bodies play bumper cars in the back seat.

“I think he’s trying to kill us,” I whisper to Theo.

“That, or we are currently being held captive during his audition for the next movie in the Fast & Furious franchise.”

Theo may be sitting upright, but he’s got his arm around me and there’s no point in lying about how much I like that.

When we’re not being told to get close like this for the cameras, I’m itching to get close to him like this.

The way I’m able to fit neatly into the natural crooks of his body or the way his lips might feel against mine.

Full and sweet and not a trace of weirdness in sight.

It’s been ages since I’ve felt this level of…frustration. Or infatuation. Or better yet, confusion, because everything I now do with Theo for the show twists my rational thinking around like a pretzel, and everything we don’t do behind closed doors is just…worse.

It’s maddening.

Logically, this crush —the word itself makes me cringe—makes sense.

Theo’s undeniably attractive, and he’s got that whole savior complex thing going for him.

But I never felt whatever I’m feeling now for Clint.

Not once. I fit myself into his world and wanted to build a life with a partner.

The difference? I can’t recall a single instance where my stomach waited in knots just to hear his voice or catch a glimpse of his smile.

And now that I’ve somehow found someone who’s forced me to think and feel and fucking fantasize about all these infuriating things, I’ve ripped my own rug out from under myself by stupidly suggesting a set of rules that all but guarantee nothing will ever happen between us.

Arthur takes yet another unannounced sharp turn and the familiar reality-television-show branding comes into view.

Jo reaches forward to turn the van camera off before twisting around to speak to us.

“For today’s challenge, each team has been assigned a task voted on by our audience.

Unfortunately, I have no idea what the individual tasks are,” she says, craning her neck into the back seat.

“Dalton’s been keeping that one under wraps.

But I do know that they are meant to be competed individually, and I hate to say it”—Jo now officially dons her production-handler hat as Arthur parks the van—“but Asher, this challenge is all yours.”

“Great.” I groan, placing my forehead against the cool window while everyone else starts to exit the van.

Jo and Arthur begin setting up their camera equipment, but when I get out I scan the scene searching for any clue as to what we— I —could possibly be getting into.

Theo comes up behind me, slinging his big arm around my shoulders and pulling me close to him. “You nervous?”

“I mean, that’s not helping.”

The other contestants begin to join us around the second staging area. Besides the usual sound equipment and cables snaking their way through the grass, there appear to be makeshift individual zones created out of dark fabric hung from PVC pipes, one for each team.

“Here,” Jo says, handing me a laminated card with a block number three written in bright yellow. “Good luck!”

Arthur resumes filming, and though it’s taken a minute, I’ve almost gotten used to constantly having his camera in my face.

We’re rolling.

Theo laces his fingers through mine, the only thing grounding me at the moment.

Camera three on Dalton.

“And we’re back with our next challenge,” Dalton’s voice booms as he steps forward.

“But there’s a twist. Behind me are individual mini challenges for each of our teams,” Dalton continues, circling the camera.

“We’ve watched in awe as they’ve competed as pairs, but today, we polled our viewers and America has voted on challenges that will be competed individually. ”

Pan to the screens.

“Contestants, if you’ll please step forward to the number that corresponds with the card you were handed earlier.”

Theo bumps me with his shoulder before pulling me toward zone three.

Instant dread floods my veins. The best part of all this has been facing the unknown with Theo. But now, whatever lies behind this curtain, I have to face alone.

“On the count of three,” Dalton shouts. “We will reveal the challenge that America has chosen for each of you. One…”

Please be something with math.

“Two…”

I’d happily settle for some sort of puzzle. I look over at Theo, who’s all but vibrating with excitement. I would give anything to have a fraction of his… Theo-ness? All smiles and heaps of unbridled energy.

“Three…”

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

The thick velvet curtains drop to reveal two large glass tanks.

One is empty, from what I can tell, and large enough for a grown man to lie down inside.

The smaller one is filled with something that makes my stomach recoil.

Snakes.

Their scaled bodies press against the glass, twisting around each other and searching for their escape like slippery magicians straight out of every single one of my nightmares.

No, no, no. I cannot do whatever it is that these production pricks have planned.

I don’t care that America voted for me to do it, which feels like a giant middle finger to me, thank you very much.

But no. Snakes are quite literally my worst fear and the one thing on this planet I’ve actively gone out of my way to never, ever, under any circumstances, be around.

“You don’t look so good, kid,” Arthur’s voice rips me from my inner panic. He’s momentarily lowered his camera—a first.

“Arthur, there’s no way in hell I can do this.”

“That’s just the fear talking.”

“No, you don’t understand,” I say, my heart rate spiking. “I can’t do snakes…”

But before he can respond, we are joined by a man dressed head to toe in every shade of khaki and what exposed skin there is has been tanned within an inch of its life.

“Asher, right? My name’s Wyatt,” he says, extending a weathered hand in my direction.

I shake it, or at least I think I do. I’m beginning to think I’ve fully lost my grip on reality, and all I can do is stare at the sea of swirling serpents just feet away.

“I’m the animal handler on call today, and I’m here to walk you through the challenge, make sure that none of the animals get hurt. ”

I snap my head in his direction, and Arthur chooses that very moment to raise his camera back on me. “You’re worried about the snakes getting hurt? What about me?”

A sarcastic little laugh slips out of his mouth, and I can’t help but glare at him. “Most snakes are harmless to humans, like the boas we have here.”

I really don’t like Wyatt.

“That’s easy for someone to say who doesn’t have to…” My voice trails off when I realize I have no idea what I’m about to do. “Wait, what’s the challenge?”

Wyatt lifts the lid of the empty tank and I step closer. There are dozens of keys in various shapes and sizes at the bottom. “The goal here is to locate the key that opens each lock as quickly as you can,” he says, tapping a built-in lock I’m just now seeing on the inside of the lid.

A pit grows in my stomach because I have a feeling I know the answer before I even ask.

“And the snakes?”

Wyatt gives me a look—the kind that confirms my suspicions. “So, if you’ll just go ahead and get into the tank…”

I look around for my own escape, hoping I can somehow slip away unnoticed, but with Arthur zeroed in on my every movement and the fact that I’ve already come this close to accomplishing my goal, I know I’m just going to have to suck it up and get this over with.

There’s also a million dollars on the line, so that helps put things into perspective.

Theo’s hand flexes in my mine, a subtle reminder that he’s right here with me.

“I…I really don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper, turning to him.

His eyes find mine. “We can walk away right now if you want to, Ash—you don’t have to do this.”

He’s giving me an out.

Permission to do the thing every cell in my body is screaming to do—run away.

Theo doesn’t break his stare, his beautiful eyes reassuring me that money or not, the only thing he cares about is my safety.

Around me, the other contestants are in various stages of their own challenges.

I see Ellie struggling with what appears to be a life-size game of Jenga, using all her strength to lift the giant pieces up and down a set of ladders.

Next to me, Jackson is hard at work sifting through mounds of sand looking for who knows what. There’s a large scale hanging behind him that gives me no context as to what challenge America chose for him.

Everyone else is already immersed in their own challenges and then there’s me, all but frozen in fear and looking like a deer in headlights.

Arthur raises his eyebrows from behind his camera lens.

I’m sure he’s mentally yelling at me to get my ass in the damn tank or to stop being such a baby or something gruff and Arthur-like.

Well, it’s now or never, Asher Bennett.

“You’re staying here, right?” I ask Theo before stepping into the tank, still clinging onto his hand like a vise.

“I’m not going anywhere, babe,” he says, his eyes flooded with concern. That and only that is enough to calm my overstimulated nerves. Even if his pet name of choice is just for the show, it’s like my brain needs to hear it.

The glass is cool against my sweaty skin. I run my hands along the floor of the tank once I lie down, feeling the edges of the different keys with my fingertips.

Wyatt peers in from above. “You ready?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!