Page 23 of Winging It with You

Every nerve ending and cell in my body is screaming out in fear. “Just get it over with,” I say through chattering teeth. My limbs are shaking, and white-hot adrenaline is coursing through my veins as my natural fight-or-flight response kicks in.

Wyatt lifts the smaller tank to the edge of the one I’m in and a curious—or starving—slippery monster sticks its head out, its tongue flicking in my direction. What is it they say about wild animals? That they are more scared of you than you are of them?

I highly doubt that.

My body tenses harder than it ever has before as I brace for Wyatt to drop them in. Time slows as he stands above me, dangling a box of snakes that are probably are chomping at the bit to choke me to death on national television.

Plop.

A thick yellow constrictor lands in between my spread legs, thankfully not making any contact with my skin yet.

Plop. Plop. Plop.

One by one, more snakes are carefully dropped into my tank.

And then all at once, Wyatt tips the contents of the tank in their entirety over me, completely covering a good portion of my body in miles of slithering scales, and I think I’ve officially stopped living.

The full weight of their bodies swirl around me.

There’s a good possibility I’m now watching this nightmare unfold in real time from the beyond.

“Just don’t make too many sudden movements and you’ll be golden,” Wyatt says before closing the tank’s lid and locking me in from the outside.

Is this guy for fucking real? How the hell am I supposed to get out of this death trap without sudden movements?

I force my eyes shut and have to remind myself to breathe as I feel the thick scaled body of one of my captors start to wrap itself lazily around my leg.

Don’t panic.

Breathe. Find the key. And get yourself out of here.

I slowly fan my fingers along the floor of the tank, bumping into the middle section of one snake and what feels like the tail of another. I grab a key and shakily lift it toward the lock, afraid of those sudden movements Wyatt mentioned that would lead me to become a snake’s chew toy.

I line the small key up to the lock, and it doesn’t fit into the keyhole. Shit. Okay, next one. I set the key flat on my chest, hoping to avoid using the same one repeatedly.

I slide my left hand along the bottom of the tank again but feel the flick of a snake’s tongue on my wrist and freeze. This is most definitely a new ring of hell and someone’s plan to punish me for every bad thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. I have to get out of here. Now.

Slowly but intentionally, I grab another key and lift it to the lock once more. It slides in. “Thank God,” I mutter through clenched teeth.

But even though the key slides in all the way, it doesn’t budge.

And so, the torturous cycle continues.

Locate a key, realize it’s wrong, try not to freak out about the snakes, and repeat.

Arthur returns with the lens of his camera pressed flat against the tank’s glass. His eyes are wide at my current predicament. I can only imagine the double chin situation I’ve got going on from this angle. Here’s your money shot, Arthur. You’re welcome.

At this point, it’s hard to discern where the snakes end and where I begin.

They’re everywhere. Around my legs, their clammy skin wrapped just tight enough to let their presence be known.

On my chest, the entirety of their combined weight moving and shifting as they, like me, figure out what in the sweet hell is going on.

I’m pretty sure there is more than one slippery little fucker trying to get comfortable inside my shorts.

If I weren’t legitimately crawling out of my skin, now would be the perfect opportunity for some trouser snake humor.

Part of me feels bad for them.

But the other, more prominent part feels like screaming until my body is no longer capable of producing sound.

Please don’t bite me, Mr. Snake , I chant internally. I continue trying key after key to no avail, my pile of discarded keys growing on my chest.

My fingers rake against the bottom of the tank as a curious large white snake makes its way from my chest and along my neck to set up shop near the side of my face, its split tongue inspecting my cheek.

And this is the moment when the panic sets in.

My heart tries to claw its way out of the very center of my chest and every inch of my body starts to shake. Every neuron firing in my brain is acutely aware of the situation I’m in.

I need to get out of this fucking tank.

Now.

“I…I don’t think I can do this,” I choke out in a panicked frenzy as I attempt to push myself up off the floor of the tank.

“Get him out of there,” Theo’s stern voice growls from somewhere above.

Theo.

“And face guaranteed elimination?” a muffled Arthur shoots back.

I…I need Theo.

No, I want Theo.

When my fingers make contact with another key, I hurriedly lift it to the lock with squinted eyes, mentally pleading for it to be the correct one to end this madness. It slides fully into the keyhole and, to my surprise, turns completely.

Did I just—

The lock clicks open, propping the large box’s lid open ever so slightly. The first thing I see is sweet Theo, his poor face filled with more concern than I’ve ever seen in it before, and Arthur and Wyatt flank him, standing at the ready.

“Please. Get. Them. Off. Of. Me. Now. ” I hiss at Wyatt, echoing my restless tank companions. I lie perfectly still as Wyatt lifts each snake off me one by one, an agonizing new game of patience and control when all I want is to dive into a pool of scalding hot water.

Or bleach.

“You can get up now,” Wyatt says, leaning into the tank and offering me a hand. After however long I was locked in there, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes or seven hundred years, my limbs are rigid with stress, so when I clap my hand into his, every muscle screams out in protest.

I can’t believe I did it.

Might as well start calling me Asher “Snake Charmer” Bennett from now until eternity, because not only did I just face the biggest fear of my life, I did so with minimal meltdowns.

Well, visible ones. But before I can truly wrap my head around the feat of it all, Theo pulls me into those massive arms of his, picking me up like it’s nothing.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his scruff on my ear.

“I…think so,” I mumble, my lips unintentionally against his throat.

He releases me just enough to give me a once-over as if he doesn’t trust my own assessment.

I’ve not seen this side of Theo before, and I have to admit, I like it.

“I promise. I’m fine,” I add when I see the worry in his eyes.

“A little disgusted and very much in need of a shower, but fine.”

His eyes are still surveying me, but they dip down to my lips and for a heartbeat of a second, I think he wants to kiss me.

“Congratulations, Asher, you’ve successfully completed your individual challenge! You and Theo are ea…” Dalton’s voice fades to the background, because now all I can think about is Theo’s lips.

And why they haven’t been on mine yet.

Theo lowers me in his arms slightly, shifting my weight. “You did it,” he beams through the widest and most beautiful of grins. Despite Arthur, who’s now circling us with his rolling camera, capturing every angle of this moment, Theo’s smile is genuine. Just for me.

“I didn’t think I could,” I whisper. Our situation may be convoluted, and the lines of this relationship may be blurred, but there is no denying the authenticity in his reaction. He’s celebrating…me. Because I faced a genuine fear of mine today, and it’s starting to feel like I’ve made him proud.

At the end of the day, this moment might not mean too much for the overall competition.

But looking down at Theo’s smiling face…it also means everything.

“Well, you did amazing today,” he whispers, his voice thick and low enough that only I can hear him.

We’re so going to have to reevaluate our rules.

“I knew you co…” he starts, but I interrupt whatever he was about to say by crashing my lips into his—honestly, taking us both off guard, but it’s something I’ve been wanting to do since being stranded on that damn boat.

I can feel Theo’s confusion against my lips.

What are the chances he’s wondering the same blaring question I’ve had every single time he’s placed his arm around me or called me babe ?

Is this for the competition or could this be real?

But I feel the moment he decides he doesn’t care, and honestly, my body melts in relief.

Theo slowly slides me down the length of his body, and the moment my feet are on the ground again, I fling my arms around his neck, pulling myself tighter against him as he kisses me back with overwhelming force.

It’s not lost on me that this is our first kiss, and I’m praying it won’t be our last, because kissing Theo Fernandez is like coming up for air while simultaneously being set on fire and screaming Thank you .

He’s inhaling me with a passion and urgency that some people wait their whole lifetime for and here we are in the middle of nowhere, caked in dirt and sweat and probably snake slime, so when he reaches up, taking my face in his large hands, well…

I could just about pass out from the tenderness of it all.

“What are you doing?” he asks against my mouth.

He parts my lips with his, gently sliding his tongue against mine as I claw my fingers into his hair—I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life.

Right on cue, the shuffling sounds of Arthur scrambling to get the close-up shot of this celebratory moment fill my ears and a wave of deer-in-headlights embarrassment rushes over me.

I will remember this for the rest of my life, because Arthur just captured me throwing myself at Theo like some sex-crazed animal, and he’ll be spending his evening happily editing it into some compilation of today’s events.

“Winging it,” I say, panting because Theo has completely obliterated whatever part of my brain triggers the millions of subconscious decisions needed to inhale oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide.

Theo must sense the sudden shift in my mood, because I can feel his wide smile against my lips. Planting a soft but lingering kiss at the corner of my mouth, he slowly drops each hand from my face, one after the other, leaving my skin tingling at the absence of his touch.

Arthur starts breaking down his camera equipment behind us.

“Asher, my boy—I didn’t think you had it in you!” he says enthusiastically, quite the change in tone from his usual indifference. “When that huge snake—”

“You know what? I think I’ve had enough snake talk for today.” My interruption clearly kills Arthur’s excitement, so he shrugs his shoulders and turns his attention toward the rest of his gear. Theo and I make our way back to the parked van, our hands never leaving each other’s.

“I mean this in the kindest way possible, but the two of you reek ,” Jo says, her face pained as she dramatically cranes her neck away from us where she stands against the van.

“Like, I get it. You’ve been gallivanting around in the wilderness and exerting yourselves physically, but dear lord …

the combination of smells is too much,” she says between exaggerated breaths.

“So, what I’m hearing is,” I say, stepping forward as Arthur now joins us, “someone wants a hug!”

“Asher, you know I love ya…but if you so much as lay a finger on me right now, I will make sure that you get the worst edit in the history of reality television.” She’s laughing—we all are—harder than we have since this whole thing started, and I must admit, taking my seat in the smelly van with the three of them, as different as they all are—it’s kinda nice.

Jo, Arthur, and most important, Theo, whether we wanted to or not, we’ve become a little found family in the most unlikely of circumstances.

As Arthur shoots the van back into drive and we settle into the comfortable silence of four people who have now learned to just be with one another, I bring the back of my hand to my lips, still feeling the burn of Theo’s that just might be permanently etched upon them.

I am in so much trouble.