Page 3 of Mud, Love, and Chemistry

My three friends and I take off down the track. By the time we reach one of my favorite obstacles, the vertical wall, I’ve all but regained my composure. That’s not to say I haven’t been searching for this guy at every turn and berating myself for it. At the wall, I put my back to it and drop into a squat, becoming a step stool for my friends.

Lisa is last, and she sits atop the wall with her hand extended down. When I shake my head, she huffs. “I should’ve known you’d want to do this one yourself. Okay, we’ll be waiting for you,” she says, shrugging before climbing down the other side.

With an anxious skip in my step, I back up. I need room to get a running start so I can jump and shimmy my five-foot-five self up the eight foot vertical climb. Of course, when I get back far enough, a few other racers are now working their way over the wall, so I have to wait.

“You got this?”

I glance over to find my hunk standing next to me, his mud-covered eyebrows arched, making the mud cake into his forehead creases. A wry smirk crosses my lips, and I nod. “Oh, yeah. I got this.”

As I dash toward the wall, my adrenaline pumps furiously. I scale it no problem, but instead of jumping over, I straddle the top and wave for my gorgeous race partner to follow. I watch him lick his mud-covered lips, spitting almost immediately before he takes off. He, of course, makes it up without issue, but he’s also got almost a foot on me, making his climb shorter.

When he gets to the top, he copies my straddle of the wall, facing me. “I’m Sam,” he says and offers me his hand.

I shake it firmly, bits of dried mud flaking between our palms. “Brynn.”

He stares at me, his lips turned up in the most adorable way, melting my insides, and I can’t do anything but stare back. Everything stops. I can’t feel the sun baking my mud mask. I can’t see the other racers topping the wall around me. I can’t hear anything except the erratic beating of my heart.

“Brynn! Come on!” Lisa’s sharp shout severs the moment.

I clear my throat, giving Sam a quick wink. “Gotta go!” Leaping off the wall, I jog to my friends without looking back.

“Who was that?” Lisa asks, jutting her chin over her shoulder.

I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Some guy complimenting my climb. Guess I impressed him.”

She gives me a knowing look and starts jogging.

The rest of the race goes almost as expected. While my friends dive into the ice bath, ascend the twenty-foot ladder, and scale the warped wall, I’m right there, leading them. My mind, however, is way behind. I haven’t been able to get that guy, Sam, out of my head. For a moment, I consider jaunting through the electroshock obstacle. Maybe that will reset my brain, but I still have metal pins in my wrist from when I broke it several years ago, so I skip it. Since I’m not leading the way this time, my friends pass it up too.

When we cross the finish line, volunteers give each of us a gray t-shirt with the word “Finisher” across the back and a can of beer. As my muddy fingers leave their mark on the sleek fabric, my sense of accomplishment materializes in my hands. My chest fills with pride for yet another Mud Down completion.

The four of us happily cheers our drinks before heading to the food truck area. While I’m standing in line with Lisa, I find Sam sitting at a picnic table, a beer in his hand. When he sees me, he lifts his beer like he’s cheersing me from afar. I nod, lifting my can as well.

“Is that the same guy from earlier?” Lisa nudges me with her elbow.

“Yeah.” I can’t stop the smile from conquering my face.

She shoves me in his direction. “Go talk to him.”

“What? No.” My adrenaline spikes at the thought.

“Just go.”

Lisa pushes me hard enough that I stagger forward, and Sam notices. Now I have no choice but to talk to him. Even if reluctantly. I walk toward his table, the butterflies in my stomach fluttering a mile a minute. He watches me the entire time, his posture perking up with each step I take.

When I reach the table, I say a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies without taking his eyes off me. “Nice job finishing.”

“You too.”

A throat clears next to him, and Sam does a double take at his friend. “Oh, sorry. This is Walt.” He motions between me and Walt. “This is Brynn.”

My name sounds so natural on his tongue, so fluid.

“Sup?” Walt says, lifting his chin in my direction. “Saw you on the course today. You’re fucking tough.”

Sam elbows him, scoffing at his swearing.

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