Page 50 of Winging It with You

Lately, my thoughts have been a confusing swirl of our kisses, now plural.

It’s technically only been one.

One on camera and then an almost-one free from prying eyes.

I look over at Asher, who’s now wiping his face clean, and wish I knew what he was thinking. He’s given me no indication what’s going on behind those eyes of his. How much of this is just the game for him? I could have kissed him in the stairwell last night. For a moment, he looked like he even wanted me to. But I promised we’d play by his rules. As much as I’m starting to hate it.

“Hey, I’m just the messenger,” Ellie says, putting her hands up defensively and pulling me out of my funk. “All I heard is that whatever they have planned for us today would probably be easier on an empty stomach.”

Ugh. Please don’t be an eating challenge.

“I’m not eating bull’s balls,” I groan, and both Ellie and Asher slowly turn their heads in my direction, a confusedthe fuck did he just sayexpression plastered across each of their faces. “What? Don’t tell me you haven’t seen that one episode a few seasons back where they made all the contestants eat all that inedible shit?” I ask, in full defense mode.

“I…” Asher starts, mouth wide open. “I literally don’t even know what to say after that.”

I shrug off his comment. “A first.”

Ellie laughs. “I’m curious, though—is it just bull’s balls you have an aversion to? Balls in general?”

Asher leans forward on his elbows, placing his chin on his fists. “Yes, Theo—do tell the class where you stand onballs.”

I narrow my eyes at him.

“Oh,honey,” I say, mirroring his body language. “Only you know the answer to that.”

Well, hopefully he’s going to.

The flush that’s become my newfound Asher obsession returns to his cheeks and he leans back in his seat, quietly retreating from whatever game of chicken we’d started. A subtle smirk makes a timely appearance at the corner of his mouth.

“Um…ew,” Ellie says through a pretend and overly dramatic gag. “I’m literallyrighthere.” She shakes her head, quickly turning on her heel before heading back in the direction she came from.

Jo, with a very grumpy-looking Arthur trailing behind her, makes her way over to us before either of us can carry this ballsy conversation any further. She’s on a phone call and spewing out one-word responses left and right, but that doesn’t prevent her from eyeing our burritos. She purses her lips in such a way that it makes me set down my greasy goodness immediately.

“Can you get them set up?” she asks Arthur, covering her phone with her hand.

“Here you go, guys.” Arthur holds out a pair of bright-yellow helmets, each with a small camera mounted on the front. “You’ll want to make sure that’s on good and tight.”

Asher takes one of the helmets and eyes me.

“Let me guess, you aren’t going to tell us what we need this for, are you?” he asks dryly.

Arthur makes a show of zipping his lips and throwing the invisible key over his shoulder. “You know I can’t do that,” he says, prepping the removable mics.

“You’re so elusive, Arthur,” I tease, and Asher and I pin the small devices to our shirts. “So mysterious and full of secrets.”

He responds with a scowl.

“All good?” Jo asks, pocketing her phone. Arthur nods.“Perfect—we’ve got to head over to the staging area,” she says, turning and leading us toward where the rest of the crew is milling around. Each time we step foot on one of the locations they’ve set up for a challenge, it’s like finding ourselves in some sort of temporary city. Cords and tents and random Pelican boxes piled high. They do a good job of keeping the actual challenge element a “secret,” but when we round another row of tent-covered folding tables, there’s no way for them to hidethat.

“What is it?” Asher asks beside me. “A dam?”

But before we get a clear answer, Jo is pulling us each by an arm. “Alright, here’s your mark. Please be safe and try to remember to smile!” she chirps, and I’m pretty sure neither of us change our tired expressions. But when I reach for Asher’s hand, intertwining his fingers with mine, his own smile makes an appearance.

Jenn and Ellie are only a few yards to our left. We seem to be the last pair in a long row of contestants at the base of what appears to be a massive concrete wall.

“Stand by,” a random PA calls out from behind us, and the hum of chitchat dies down as Dalton emerges from somewhere out of view. It’s like they intentionally keep him away from everyone to ensure he’s happy and unbothered. Like some moody show pony that can only come out when the attention is all on him.

Camera one on Dalton.

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