Page 37 of Winging It with You

Asher

Bunol, Spain

T hump, thump, thump.

Our door is literally being thump ed right off its vintage hinges.

“For the love of God, please go away,” I groan. Truthfully, I’m not sure I’m even coherent at the moment, so there is a very real possibility that I’m making this all up inside my overly sleep-deprived mind.

Thump, thump, thump. But louder and with more urgency this time.

“If it’s the woman from the check-in desk,” Theo mumbles, rolling over toward the wall, a very clear sign that he most definitely isn’t getting up anytime soon, “can you get some more towels?”

He hasn’t even stepped foot in our bathroom to see just how many towels we already have. A lovable quirk of Theo’s— he needs roughly thirty-seven bath towels at any given time to have a comfortable hotel stay, regardless of the duration.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, feeling my exhaustion in every joint, and walk over to the door in a daze. I can’t tell if it’s been five minutes or five hours since we both passed out on that bed, but all I know is that it certainly wasn’t enough time.

“What,” I say after unlocking the dead bolt and swinging the heavy wooden door open rather rudely considering I have no idea who is on the other side.

But instead of being met by the hotel concierge offering dozens of additional towels for Theo, it’s just Ellie. “Come on, we’re going out.”

“Pass.” The only going out I want to do is going out of consciousness. I made it work.

“Seriously, guys…you aren’t going to want to miss this.”

Her vagueness must catch Theo’s interest. “What is it?” he says, propping himself up on his elbow.

“La Tomatina.”

I haven’t a clue what the hell she just said, but Theo rather clumsily sits upright. “Stop. La Tomatina is today?”

“Mm-hmm,” Ellie murmurs, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame. Theo immediately hops up from the bed, clearly no longer drowsy and instead vibrating with childlike excitement.

“Um, hi…hello?” I say, feeling a little left out of the loop. “What are you two babbling on about?”

Ellie and Theo look at each other, their smiles growing more and more mischievous by the second.

“ La Tomatina ,” they say in unison, and practically drag me out the door.

“Mm-hmm…you’ve said that.” Helpful .

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

“Oh, right… this is what you meant by La Tomatina ,” I say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I thought you said La Tomatino …but of course!” We’ve found ourselves in the center of a bustling town square a few blocks from the hotel.

Theo playfully nudges me in the ribs, knowing full well I had absolutely no clue what I was walking into.

Ellie grabs my hand, strategically leading us through a sea of strangers.

The narrow streets of Bunol are bursting at the seams as more and more people pile in from every direction.

Theo, Ellie, and I squeeze our way through the excited tourists, and I see that huge sheets of thick plastic have been hung on the storefronts that line the center of town, Plaza del Pueblo .

Bucket after bucket of ripe tomatoes in the most brilliant shades of red imaginable are scattered in every direction as far as the eye can see.

“Welcome to La Tomatina…the world’s largest food fight!

” Ellie says, plucking a juicy-looking tomato from the nearest bucket once we manage to find a gap in the crowd large enough for the three of us to huddle comfortably.

“Every year, thousands upon thousands of people from all corners of the world make their way to this small city to participate in this historic event.”

I review our position in the crowd and feel the part of me that intentionally goes out of his way to avoid messes silently scream in protest.

Theo must sense my panic, because he puts a hand on my back, a small gesture but one that immediately lessens my growing anxiety. Slightly.

But Ellie could not care less. She just blissfully carries on with her weird history lesson.

“People aren’t exactly sure how or why it started, but it dates back to 1944 or 1945,” she shouts over the restless crowd, her eyes full of excitement.

“Some people think it began as a food fight among friends or as a practical joke—but most people believe that irritated townspeople attacked local officials with tomatoes during a town celebration. Whatever the reason was,” Ellie says, laughing as we are bumped by a rather boisterous group of Englishmen who already have several tomatoes in each hand, “it was loved so much it has been repeated year after year, growing in size and popularity each time!”

“I’m sorry,” I say, crossing my arms, and I can only imagine the disinterested expression plastered across my face. “But it sounds like you ran out of reading materials on last night’s train and were forced to read random tourism pamphlets.”

Theo snorts and I adore that he thinks I’m funny.

“Oh, my sweet, simple Asher,” Ellie mocks in her less-than-sweet tone. “If you hadn’t been passed out and excessively drooling on the train, you’d know that production handed out mandatory fact sheets to help us in this week’s challenge.”

Shit. Whipping my head toward Theo, he discreetly shakes his head.

Ugh. As painfully annoying as Ellie is sometimes, I have to give it to her—that girl is razor-sharp and incredibly quick on her feet.

I’m not usually in the company of someone who comes close to my signature level of snark, so I guess game recognizes game…

or something incredibly cliché like that.

“You little shit—”

“Ah, ah, ah,” she says, waving an outstretched finger in my direction.

“If you’re going to get all snippy and difficult about something I’ve always wanted to do, you leave me no choice but to officially pull out the birthday card.

” She sticks her hand in her pocket, retrieving an imaginary card and dramatically flailing it in front of my face.

“Uh, hold on, little one. Didn’t your mom say just last night at dinner that your birthday isn’t until next week?”

“Irrelevant,” she says, pinning said invisible card to my chest. “Besides, if I have to spend my eighteenth birthday traversing the globe with a bunch of ancient strangers…”

Ouch.

“…the least you can do is slap on a happy face and give a young girl the only thing in the whole wide world that’ll make her happy. Pretty please?”

“Yeah, Ash,” Theo chimes in. “Pretty please with me on top?”

Well, that’s a fun visual. Yeesh , she’s really laying it on thick, but on some level, I think she’s being serious about wanting to do this.

“I mean, she played the birthday card, Asher,” Theo says, shrugging his shoulders. “We are contractually obligated as the…wait, what did she call us?”

“Hmm, that would be ‘ancient strangers,’ if I remember correctly.”

“Ah, yes, that’s right…Well, by the rules of all pulled birthday cards, we are officially bound to carry out whatever the card puller wishes. And in this case…”

“La Tomatina,” we all say in forced agreement. I, however, do it with a groan.

I hate that my natural inclination for adventures that other people—especially Theo—are excited about is total avoidance.

I know I’m capable of having fun—I’ve been told on numerous occasions how much others have enjoyed the brunches Clint and I held.

That was all me! Always ensuring everyone was happy and fed and never had an empty glass in their hand, that events were paired with the perfect complementary soundtrack, and no matter how last-minute the notice was, I never turned once down the opportunity to host one of my infamous pool parties.

Oh God…I’m boring myself.

But deciding to go on this show and randomly choosing someone like Theo to be my partner, someone who is like fifty-two steps above “go with the flow,” I’ve been thinking about how many chances to step outside my comfort zone I’ve said no to…

how much of my life I haven’t been living. That changes now.

Several things happen very quickly.

Water cannons erupt from their hidden locations, spewing gallon after gallon of water over the enthusiastic crowd.

Ellie shoves pairs of goggles in Theo’s and my direction, which we instinctively put on.

Quickly I grab a tomato, smash it in my hands, and throw it right at Theo’s chest.

La Tomatina has officially begun.

Theo appears stunned by my tomatoey sneak attack. “Oh, you’re dead , Bennett,” he shouts over the chaos unfolding around us and lunges toward the nearest bucket of tomatoes, grabbing a fistful of fruity ammunition.

I dart between the swells of bodies, trying to see where Ellie took off to, in my attempt to avoid Theo’s impending retaliation.

Smack.

A large and disgustingly mushy tomato collides with the side of my face, exploding tomato bits in every direction, and I whisper a silent prayer of appreciation for Ellie, wherever she is, for having the foresight to bring goggles to this epic disaster.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

One after another after another, tomatoes fly through the air, exploding on impact with whichever target has had the misfortune of stepping into their path. Thankfully, people seem to be squishing them before they wildly aim. Smack.

Stopping only once, I stumble upon the smallest gap in the group and turn around.

I half expect to see Theo right behind me, ready to deliver his payback.

But he’s disappeared in the sea of extreme tomato lovers, nowhere to be found, which only adds to the terror of his future attack.

Smack. Smack. The onslaught of tomato explosions seems never-ending, and I slip with each step.