Page 3 of Matched with Her Runaway Groom

“Ew, no,” she says, squinting against the bright sunlight as she looks back at me. “If you want to talk about feelings, go talk to Evie.”

Evie is one of my favorite people. She’s so sensitive and helped me get through Hillary’s wedding, since Tiffany was busy making goo-goo eyes at Drew the whole time. I met her at one of the breakfasts and she has this way of making me feel like I’m the most important person. She’s listened to hours of me trying to figure out what to do with my life, from my lame job to what my next hobby should be.

Okay, but seriously. I am ready to do just about anything to get out of this. I definitely don’t have the stamina to make it between each of those padded cones.

How do I sprain my ankle on purpose? I played volleyball in high school and rolled my ankle several times when coming down from a block. But there isn’t a whole lot I can use here to make it look like I got hurt by accident.

“You’ll be fine. Who knows? You might even like it,” Kenzie says, turning to survey the field.

“I doubt it.”

She lifts her gun up as if she’s ready to take on the world and heads out to where a group of paintballers wait. I pause a full minute before I join her, hoping that by some miracle I’ll be able to convince her with my stubbornness that we don’t need to be here.

I’ve grown up a lot since Landon disappeared, but I definitely don’t need to prove it by shooting paintballs through the air. Or at people.

“Come on, Rachelle. He needs a count of the players.”

I drag my feet on my way out to meet them, and blow out a big deep breath. Kenzie doesn’t even turn to look at me. Of course, she’s ogling the guy in front of us. She’d check out the mascot of the Boston Breeze if she was close enough.

“All right team,” the young guy says, “let’s go over some ground rules.” He starts talking, but all I can think about is a way out of this. When I finally tune back in, I’ve missed all the important information.

“We’re going to have to add you ladies to this team, if that’s all right with you?'' The guy is pointing to us and I turn to see the other guys dressed for the playing field. The one who looks to be the leader glances at us, his eyes dismissing me as he gives me an up and down glance. But when he sees Kenzie’s stance, he nods, giving her the smile I can only ever see as Joey fromFriends. I half expect him to say, in a Jersey accent, “How you doin’?”

“Awesome,” the instructor says. “The team you’re going against is already on the other side of the field. Have fun, guys, and make sure you keep your masks on at all times.”

“Are you ready for this?” Kenzie asks. I can see the excitement in her eyes.

“No, Kenzie,” I say. She either ignores me or doesn’t hear as she falls in with the group making plans for how they’re going to conquer the other team. I contemplate sneaking out to see if they have a snack bar or something I can do besides this.

“Rachelle,” Kenzie says, waving me over. “You’ll be fine. If anything, you can help us by searching the playing field and warning us of anyone breaching the sides.”

Breaching the sides? This is more intense than I signed up for.

With a slow nod, I say, “I can do that.”

They all put their hands into the middle getting ready to chant something and I remember my phone.

“I need a pic, Kenzie.”

“Hurry up. They’re going to start.”

I dig the phone out of my cleavage and hand it to her. She scrunches her nose and says, “You’re not going to wipe it off or anything?”

“You said we have to hurry. Just take it so I can post it later.” I pose, even though my face isn’t visible. “Hashtag BreakupBucketList,” I say. It’s all evidence that things are being crossed off my list. Tiffany created a Quickstagram account just for the list, and a crazy amount of people are following my journey. I’m not influencer status, but at least I can look back and see how far I’ve come in pictures.

After I tuck the phone away, I slide down behind one of the cones, wishing I could somehow rewind time and go back to non-negotiate this whole episode.

From somewhere a whistle blows and my adrenaline spikes to the point that I feel like I’m back in gym class in junior high and the P.E. teachers just declared we’re running the mile. I hated those days.

“Rachelle, do you see anything?”

I poke my head out only to see a paintball flying in my direction. I’m not quite sure how it happens, but I manage to pull my head back in while the paintball sails past, hitting another soft cone behind me.

“Nope,” I call out. I shift to the other side of a cone and see one of the other team members running up to a large square barricade. I turn back to Kenzie.

“There’s someone behind the square one.”

“Thanks. Take a couple of shots so I can move.” She holds up the paintball gun and points with her fingers to the trigger. “All you have to do is wiggle your first two fingers against the trigger to shoot several shots in a row.”

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