This much is true. Especially because nobody went home this challenge. If we were eliminated on a debatable technicality, the fans would riot in the streets withTools, Not Tarps!written on picket signs. But because it was a non-elimination leg, it gets to just be fun drama. Edge-of-your-seat to sigh-of-relief,The Adventureverse’s bread and butter.
Yumi makes her way up the short staircase to the bed. “I’m just glad we’re still here,” she says, the mattress sinking under her weight as she climbs in beside me.
My heart beats a little faster at the brush of her leg againstmine as she adjusts. Her legs are always smooth—I think it’s genetic—and I can’t help but wonder if mine are, too. Or are they prickly from not shaving? I stop just short of reaching down to feel for myself. Because that would be crossing the line. That would be doing something weird. This? Lying inches apart from Yumi Panganiban and thinking about her lack of clothing and soft skin is normal. Completely normal. Very friendly. Straight, even.
“Today was…a lot, huh?” Yumi whispers.
Our faces are way too close, but neither of us moves.
“Yep,” I manage. Yep? Who says that? “That challenge was specifically designed to break me,” I joke.
Her eyes search mine. “I wasn’t talking about the challenge.”
I nearly choke on my own tongue. Was it too much to hope that we’d both just repress it? “Oh. Yeah. I mean, yeah. Crazy.” There is something deeply wrong with me.
Yumi just smiles knowingly. “At least you didn’t run away this time.”
“There’s a lot more money on the line this time,” I joke, watching the clouds drift by above us. Joking is safe. Banter is good. Then I realize she might have taken that the wrong way. I turn to look at her, but she doesn’t seem bothered.
She stares me down with an unreadable expression, something close to amusement but not quite that. “Because of the show,” she says wryly.
“Right.”
“Right.”
I’m hyperaware of everything. The hum of the heater. The sound of my breathing—is it too loud? Should I try to breathemore quietly? How exposed we are in this glass dome, like figures in a snow globe.
In the stillness, Yumi’s hand finds mine under the covers, interlacing our fingers. She doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn’t say anything. Her face doesn’t even indicate that she’s done it. It’s as if neither of us has moved at all.
She squeezes my hand. I squeeze back. It reminds me of what I said to Aliona earlier: the only people who really know a relationship are the people inside it. Only the figures in the snow globe know what’s happening under the covers.
“Good night, Noe.”
“Night, Yumi.”
My waking mind is a fearful and confused thing. But my subconscious? She has game.
In the morning, Yumi is curled into me, her head on my chest, her breathing slow and gentle. I steal glances at her profile. The sun’s glow, exactly the same as it was when we fell asleep, casts a warm halo around her face, highlighting the shape of her slightly parted lips, the delicate curve of her cheek, the way her lashes flutter against her skin as she dreams—all details that have long been etched into my memory.
I allow myself to enjoy the weight of her while I have it. All I can hope is that when this show ends, I get to stay friends with Yumi. Anything beyond that…
I recognize that thinking is my enemy. So I don’t think.
This morning in Iceland, with Yumi’s body soft and solid and warm pressed against me, I just am.
Chapter 33
The Iron Way
I’ve figured out whyTheAdventureverseis being nice to us. At first, I didn’t understand why they would want us to travel from Iceland together. This show usually thrives on teams getting on the wrong train, driving an hour in the wrong direction, or missing a flight. It clicked somewhere around the second train ride that a transportation mix-up here it would be a logistical nightmare, not just for the teams or the production crew, but for the viewer.
It takes two buses, a plane, four trains, and a cable car to get to the town of Mürren, Switzerland.
During my time on this show, I haven’t often been grateful for production, but I am grateful for this. The stress of having to navigate all of those transfers on my own would leave me no mental bandwidth to deal with Yumi’s multi-hour freakout.
“They’re gonna push us off a mountain,” she says, face pressed into my shoulder as the cable car climbs higher and higher.
“They would never. Think of the lawsuits.” I know my joking tone won’t make her feel better, but I don’t know what else to do. My favorite grounding technique—five things you see, hear, smell, and feel—doesn’t exactly work when the person panicking can’t open their eyes without falling to their knees.
