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CHAPTERTEN
Day Twelve—Ten teams remaining
Archer
“I’m never drinking again.”
Lauren sat down on the stump across from mine at our fire ring. I’d carried her all the way back to camp last night and she’d slept several hours later than usual. From her pained expression, I could tell she had a hell of a hangover.
“Here.”
I walked two full canteens over to her and she took them, her gaze earnest as it held mine.
“I said some things last night, didn’t I?” she asked.
“Not that I recall.” I walked back over to my stump and sat down.
“What’s that?” she asked.
Holding up a piece of smooth, freshly shaven wood, I said, “I’m whittling. My grandpa used to do it. I don’t have good tools for it and I’ve never done it before, so who knows what I’ll end up with. It helps pass the time, though.”
I’d never needed to pass the time here until this morning. I’d fish, hunt, or gather firewood with my down time, but I’d wanted to stay at camp this morning to keep an eye on Lauren after how much she drank last night, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said.
She looked me up online to see if I’d gotten married? The thought of her doing that cut me deep. It also left me wondering if she was over me or not.
After a few seconds of silence, she spoke again.
“Archer, whatever I said last night—”
“Don’t worry about it. We have a competition today.”
She blanched. “What? We’ve never had them two days in a row.”
“Must be our lucky day.”
Burying her face in her hands, she groaned. “My head feels like someone used it as a giant punching bag. I just want to crawl back into the shelter and spend the day regretting the fact I drank four margaritas back-to-back.”
“Five.”
“Oh, God. I don’t know what got into me. I never, ever have more than two drinks at a time.”
I glanced at my watch. “Well, keep pounding water. We need leave in a few minutes, and I wanted to let you sleep as long as possible. I have a plate of food for you here, too.”
She cringed. “No, I can’t eat.”
I carried the plate over to her. “You have to. We’re already at a disadvantage with you hungover. You need the energy.”
“You drank more than I did.” She scowled up at me. “Why aren’t you hungover?”
“It was beer, and I’m not a lightweight.”
“How can you party so much and still play hockey?”
Her tone was a mix of resentment and genuine curiosity. I laughed.
“Who said I party all the time?”
“Well, if you can throw down a dozen beers and feel great the next day…”
“Beer and hard liquor are two different animals, Lo.” I put the plate in her lap. “Eat the food.”
“Ugh, just the smell of that fish makes me feel sick.”
I’d decided to do this show because it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for a cool experience, but I also wanted to win. Winning was what drove me to keep pushing myself in hockey every day. And I could practically see our chances to win this game swirling down the drain right now.
“Eat,” I snapped. “And drink more water. You’re tougher than this, Lo.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, taken aback. “Don’t act like you know who I am.”
I folded my hands and placed them on top of my head and walked back toward her, stopping a few feet away to look down at her.
“Like it or not, I do know you. I know you’d live on Lucky Charms and McDonald’s cheeseburgers with extra pickles if you could. I know you like scary movies even though they give you nightmares for days. You’re loyal to a fault and you want to have a sanctuary for senior dogs when you retire.”
Lauren stood, throwing her plate. It landed with a thud about ten feet away, but I was too stunned to look at anything but her.
“You know better than anyone that I’m loyal to a fault, do you? I was loyal to you and look where it got me.” Her voice vibrated with fury. “It’s been eight years, Archer. You knew me when we were teenagers. I’ve changed.”
My pulse pounded as I closed the distance between us and spoke in a low tone I hoped she could hear but that the camera wouldn’t pick up.
“I know you, Lo. And you know me. We lived and breathed each other for two years. Look into my eyes right now and tell me I’m wrong.”
Tears welled in her eyes as they held mine, seconds passing in complete silence.
“I don’t want us to lose because I was stupid and drank too much,” she finally said, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I know it’s only been twelve days, but this has been so hard. I embarrassed myself last night with those things I said, and I at least—” She paused, closing her eyes. “I at least want it to mean something.”
I couldn’t stand seeing her hurt. She’d poured her heart out when her guard was down last night, and I was still processing what she’d said. My instinct was to pull her into my arms and tell her everything would be okay, but I knew she didn’t want that. So I did the only thing I could think of—with the cameras rolling, I shared my deepest feelings just as she had.
“This means something to me no matter what,” I said. “Win or lose, I got to do this with you. You’re my first love, and I think about you, too. All the time.”
A fresh round of tears spilled from her eyes. “You do?”
I nodded, uncomfortable with how vulnerable I was allowing myself to be.
“You’re strong, Lo. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known. Whatever they throw at us, you can do it.”
“I want to. I’ll do my best. There’s just so much on the line.”
“You mean the money?”
A pause. And then, she nodded. My heart sank. I was starting to feel like the money was secondary. This experience was allowing me to unpack a lot of the person Lauren had become, and it was a painful reminder of just who I’d walked away from eight years ago.
“We should go,” she said, looking away.
“Yeah.” I backed away from her, everything awkward now. “I have to go fill the canteens again first.”
* * *
Almost an hour later,we entered the competition site. We hadn’t said a word to each other the entire way. I’d been fucking stupid and had made things between us tense.
No one would ever accuse me of having a way with women. Since the breakup with Lauren, I’d been deliberately closed off in the handful of short relationships I’d had. The hurt wasn’t worth it.
“Bleachers?” Lauren said, sighing softly and looking over at the sets of bleachers set up around us. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
As with every competition before, one of the production assistants, this time Sal, lined up the remaining contestants so the camera could pan over each of us. As she adjusted Lauren’s position so we were standing closer together, she whispered to Lauren, “Open your hand.”
Lauren did, and Sal dropped something into her palm before closing her hand around it.
“Tylenol,” she whispered. “But that didn’t happen.”
Lauren mouthed thank you and popped the pills into her mouth, taking a long swig from her canteen.
Sal had apparently heard about our evening from Nutter. Or maybe the production people watched footage back at the resort. However it had happened, I appreciated her helping Lauren. I nodded my thanks to her.
“Are you guys hungry?” Josh asked, jumping into his role as host of the show as soon as the cameras rolled.
There was a rumble of grunts and affirmative answers. I was still full from our huge dinner last night, and it sounded like the reward for winning today’s competition would be more food. Hopefully it would be something we could save for later.
“I’ve got food for everyone,” Josh said, eliciting cheers from the twenty remaining contestants. “But it may not be the kind of food you’ve been missing.”
The celebration died down as Josh removed a white tablecloth that had been covering a group of silver-domed platters on a table.
“Today we won’t be testing your physical strength,” Josh said. “All you need to win this challenge is a strong stomach.”
Fuck. He went on to explain that we had to eat delicacies from around the world. It couldn’t have come on a worse day, with Lauren’s stomach already upset from her hangover.
“Every contestant has to finish at least one of these to stay in the competition,” Josh said. “And the member from each team who finishes first gets a point. The points will be added up at the end of the competition and the winning team gets something I think everyone will appreciate.”
