Page 53 of Heart to Heart
“God, you’re like a cockroach,” Bianca said, wiping sweat from her perfect brows. “You just won’t go away.”
“Guess you’ll just have to move out of the house, then.”
“You would love that, wouldn’t you?”
Bianca dove into the minefield, pushing past a tall bollard that sprung back and whacked me in the face before I had a chance to react. And to think, there was a solid chance Bianca may win this thing, meaning I was in for weeks of being both metaphorically and figuratively smacked in the face.
Trying to walk through the field of inflatable structures twice my height was a lot like crawling through the corn fields back at home—which is probably one of the most Midwest comparisons I could have made. Except when corn stalks hit you in the face, they don’t tend to give you a concussion. Somewhere ahead, I’d lost Bianca, but a slew ofdamnitsandson of a bitchestold me the others were still right behind me.
Sweat dripping between my boobs, I barreled out of the landmine, finding myself staring at a field of giant blue balls. To my surprise, Bianca emerged from the cornfield from hell a few feet away. Strands of her blonde hair, having come loose from her ponytail, were plastered to the side of her face. I would have celebrated, except if she looked like trash, I knew I was the entire dumpster. How I’d beaten her out of there, I would never comprehend.
“Of course, they would be blue balls,” I said, the many memes that would be made out of this playing like a reel in my head.
“You would make such a crass joke.” Bianca rolled her eyes as she made her way out into the field, the balls coming up just past her chest.
“I was just making an observation,” I called out after her. “You’re the one who went there.”
An impact to my right side caused me to stumble back a couple of feet as I struggled to stay upright. A ball. I glanced up to see Bianca looking back at me, that elitist smirk of hers spread across her face. Okay, if that’s how she wanted to play it. Although large, the balls were surprisingly light, and ball in hand, I made a mad dash into the field, suppressing the urge to let out a call similar to William Wallace’s ‘Freedom’ inBraveheart. This was war, plain and simple.
Ahead of me, Bianca sensed I was coming and picked up the pace, but not before I launched the ball at the back of her head, quietly celebrating when it made contact, causing her to stumble, another ball catching her fall. In times such as these, I wished I had my phone on me, as a picture of Bianca slumped over a large, blue ball would have been frame-worthy.
With Bianca indisposed, I ran as fast as I could manage on an uneven inflatable surface, pushing away balls almost as tall as I was. But just as I thought I was home free, a blow to the head knocked me down. My body bounced off another ball and slidto the floor. Head spinning, I staggered to my feet, still in battle mode.
Not today, Satan.
The adrenaline must have been strong because I quickly managed to grab and launch one ball and then another at Bianca. The first one missed its target, yet that second one knocked her down, giving me a sick satisfaction when she collapsed to the floor.
“Oh, Avery, you made a big mistake,” she huffed when, like me, she stood up, prepared to fight like we were inMortal Kombat. And had we both not seen movement in our peripheral vision, we may just have. But with Charlie making her way to the end of the field and the others hot on our heels, we both knew there would have to be a momentary ceasefire.
The next climb knocked the wind from all of our sails, but it allowed some of the others to catch up and join in our misery. Charlie gained and maintained a lead and reached the top first, grasping for the only rope that would take her to the last obstacle. Jennifer D., after having a late surge of speed, powered ahead of Bianca and me on the mountain and grabbed the rope as it came swinging back. Neck and neck, Bianca and I climbed, both of us panting. I made it to the top just before her and had just about gotten to my feet to grab the rope when a sudden shove from Bianca’s hip knocked me off balance, and I fell, gripping the top of the inflatable mountain in a death grip not unlike Mufasa inThe Lion King.
“Whoopsie,” she said, her tone of voice not displaying a hint of sincerity in that ‘Whoopsie’. “I guess you’ll have to grab the next one.”
Seconds felt more like minutes until the rope came back, and I was able to swing down to the inflatable pillow below, where, upon landing, I jumped to my feet to make the last run. Wellahead, Charlie and Jennifer D. were not going to be caught, but Bianca was in striking distance, and strike I was going to.
I jumped from the pillow, landing with my feet in separate potholes spaced just far apart to make it look like I was running bow-legged. With longer legs than Bianca, I had a slight edge as I ran down the field, my feet easily finding the holes, while Bianca occasionally stumbled. Soon, I caught up to her, and we were running side by side. Up ahead, Jennifer D. had cleared the field and joined Charlie at the finish line. This was it. The third spot was down to me or Bianca.
There were only a few yards left to go when I overtook her. With the end in sight, I had just begun to mentally celebrate when a sharp cry sounded from behind me. Startled, I spun to see Bianca curled on the mat in pain, clutching her ankle. Conflicted, I turned back around to face the finish line, catching myself before I took a step forward. With a sigh, I shifted to face Bianca, holding my hand out to her.
“What do you want?” she asked, her voice laced with pain.
“I’m helping you up, obviously. Are you able to stand?”
“What, so you can dump me just before you cross the finish line, and then you can gloat?”
“No, so I can help you get to someone who can give you medical attention.”
She stared at my hand, puzzled. Skeptical, she took it, and I helped her to her feet, maneuvering her arm around behind my neck as I draped my own across her back.
“Can you walk?”
“I think so,” she said, sounding more like a child whose mother had just admonished them than the boss babe she usually projected.
I took a step, pleased that she was able to take one, too, as we walked off the mat to the homestretch, the finish line before us. It would have been an interesting finish, Bianca and me crossingthe line together, with Tristan having to take both of us on the date, making it a fivesome instead of a foursome.
But, just like my boobs staying put in my bikini while water skiing, it wasn’t meant to be. Mere feet away from the finish line, Kennedy zipped past us, taking the third and final slot.
CHAPTER 28
