CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
It’s a miracle I’m allowed to stay in the competition after vomiting all over the hydration station. Maybe it helped that everyone went absolutely wild after I crossed the finish line.
Well, almost everyone.
“They’re cheating,” Liam shouts the second he crosses the finish line, pointing at where I’m dry heaving over a trash can.
“We are not!” Maya takes charge of defending our honor, standing between me and Liam.
“Search their bags—you’ll find something,” Liam says to Old Bob. “Fishing wire. That’s what they used to trip me.”
A heave gets stuck in my throat. There may not be fishing wire in my bag, but there’s definitely something else that’ll get us kicked out of the competition.
Old Bob glances at us warily. “That doesn’t seem necessary. Mr. All—”
“It is necessary,” Liam sneers, getting so far up in Old Bob’s face it makes my blood boil.
Old Bob looks torn, biting his lip, when another voice cuts through the crowd.
“That’s rich coming from you,” Stella calls out, arms crossed defiantly. “Why don’t you check his bag?” she taunts with a raised brow.
The crowd breaks out into murmurs as the rest of us hold our breath. Whatever the Seo-Cookes have up their sleeves is more convoluted than ever.
“What’re you—” Liam cuts off when Old Bob tentatively reaches for the Versace backpack slung across his shoulder. “Don’t listen to her!” he snaps, the contents of his bag spilling out onto the grass as he wrenches it away from Old Bob.
Batons. Dozens of them.
The crowd gasps, and it takes everything in me not to join them.
“Those aren’t mine!” Liam dives to pick up as many batons as he can, scanning them for something. Proof of his claim. “Someone put these in my bag, I swear!”
“Bro,” Henry says, stepping up to join Stella with a look of disappointment. “Not cool.”
I’m not saying I condone them cheating, but I’ve gotta say, it feels good as hell not to be a target for once.
Whatever Liam says next is drowned out by Old Bob blowing the whistle around his neck. “Mr. Allegheny, being in possession of spare batons is a clear violation of the rules of the games.”
Liam’s protests are ignored as two volunteers wearing staff shirts loop their arms through his. The remaining members of his team share confused looks before shrugging and walking off to a corn dog stand.
Watching Liam get escorted out of his own water park is the purest form of karma.
Stella’s and Henry’s gazes wander over to me once Liam’s shouts are a distant echo. I don’t say anything or give them a smile. Now that my stomach doesn’t feel like a bag of microwaved popcorn, I head over to my family, where I’m safe.
The Seo-Cookes got rid of Liam. They can still get rid of us too.
The thirty-minute break between the 5K and our tie-breaker game of capture the flag is my saving grace. By the time we set up camp in the densest thicket of the woods next to the park, my body is thrumming with adrenaline. And caffeine. The two energy drinks I downed in under five minutes are definitely going to haunt me later, but for now I feel fan-freaking-tastic.
“You’re sure you can handle this?” Maya whispers to me as we wait for the siren to signal the start of the game.
“You doubting me now?” I tease while bouncing from foot to foot.
She rests her hands on my shoulders, pushing lightly until I’m more anchored. “No, but you’re running on three Red Bulls and pure rage, and from personal experience, that never ends well.”
“Two Red Bulls.”
She rolls her eyes and lets go of my shoulders. “Fine. But remember, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
It’s interesting how often people have said that to me this week, considering I’ve spent my entire winter break doing things I didn’t want to do. Ironic, even, when the one time I did the thing I wanted to do I wound up here: heartbroken and as hell-bent on revenge as Maya was when we first arrived.
When the blare of a siren cuts through the woods, we take off. Maya and the others to the left side of the woods to set up a base camp for our flag and keep it safe, me in the opposite direction—to find where the enemy is hiding. My role is trickier, and thirty minutes ago, I might not have had the strength to pull it off—but I want to see this through.
The forest is dead silent, my steps sounding like miniature earthquakes. Time isn’t on our side, so I tread as lightly as I can, moving quickly and quietly through the trees. I stop for every snapped branch and rustle of leaves, waiting for any signs of the competition. We’re limited in how far into the woods we can go, and while I wouldn’t put it past the Seo-Cookes to make finding their base as annoying as possible, they can’t be very far. After about ten minutes of wandering around the edge of the woods, something catches my eye. First a shock of dark hair, and then a bright blue T-shirt. Found them.
Crouched behind a log, I reach into my backpack and pull out a crumpled plastic glove. I delicately unfurl our decoy flag, careful not to touch any of the poison ivy plastered to the back of it.
Armed with our poisonous decoy, I step out of hiding and lay the trap. I shove the flag down into a nearby patch of dirt, doing a half-assed job of covering it up so it doesn’t look too obviously like a trap. I dodge behind trees until I’m a safe distance away from the crime scene.
Tossing a sizable rock in the direction of the decoy flag sets it all in motion. The footsteps stop, then shift, the sounds of mud squelching and leaves crunching getting closer and closer. I hold my closed fist against my heart, begging it to calm down before it gives away my hiding spot. The figure comes into view, a few feet in front of the tree I’m hidden behind.
Of course, it’s Julian. The universe couldn’t send literally anyone else, could it?
He quickly spots the flag, stopping directly in front of it. I bite down on my tongue as I wait for him to grab it and promptly break out into hives. But he doesn’t; he just stares at it. Shit, he knows we’re up to something, doesn’t he? They must’ve bugged the house. How else could they have known what we were planning?
Instead of grabbing the flag, he starts checking the area around it, searching for something. Or for one of us. I don’t dare move a muscle as he comes toward my hiding spot. He’s so close I can smell his lavender laundry detergent, the hint of cinnamon and nutmeg from his morning coffee. Or maybe I’m letting myself get too lost in my memories again. The universe does me one favor: He turns around. I don’t let myself breathe a sigh of relief yet, not until I’m fully in the clear. With his back to me, I carefully peer out from behind the tree. He kicks at the ground in defeat, sighing as he squats down beside the flag.
It all happens in slow motion. His hand reaches for the flag, and my mind brings me back to the grocery store. To his outstretched hand helping me off the ground. To the way my heart sank the second I recognized him. To the flutter that hasn’t gone away every time I look at him. Even when I wished it would. My heart takes over and my brain shuts down as I lunge straight for him, tackling him before he can touch the flag.
After everything, I still don’t have it in me to hurt him.
As we roll into a pile of leaves, I kick the flag as far from us as I can. I’m prepared for a fight, ready to kick and scream if I have to, but except for a squeak of surprise and a bit of wriggling, Julian lets me take him down.
Pinning Julian’s arms above his head isn’t necessary when I’ve very clearly won this battle, but I do it anyway. The thrill of having some semblance of control over this situation, over him, sets my nerves on fire. I straddle his waist, keeping my hands closed around his wrists. Our chests heave in unison, our breath mingled together in the bit of space between us. Even with mud streaking his cheeks and sweat dripping down his forehead, he’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever called mine.
I’ve thought about what I might say if I ran into Julian again before we headed home. A long and passionate speech leading with a “How dare you!” and ending with a slap to his stupid, perfect face. All those rehearsed words fall short when Julian smiles at me, bright and wonderful.
“Hi,” he says as if nothing has changed.
I wish I could be eloquent, or better yet, witty, but I can only be myself. “There’s poison ivy on the flag.”
Julian’s brow furrows as he pushes against my hold. “What?”
“I-it’s a decoy,” I stammer out, my brain begging me to shut up while I’m still ahead. “We thought if one of you fell for it and grabbed it, you’d be too hung up on the hives to hunt for our flag.”
There’s no we. After all the snooping over the past three weeks, it all came down to me. A plan that would possibly put one of them in danger if they fell for our trap like I thought they would. A selfish idea that filled me with the most vindictive and cruel sort of thrill, a thrill that never really sat right with me. Mami never would’ve wanted us to win this way, even if it meant losing the cabin. But I didn’t care about how we won so long as we did.
I’d made such a big show of saying I had morals in this war we waged against the Seo-Cookes, only to throw them away because I was vengeful. If Julian could turn against me for the sake of a competition, then I could turn against him too.
But I’m not that person. And a part of me still hopes that deep down, he isn’t either.
“Oh…” Julian stops resisting against my hold, looking past me at where the decoy flag has toppled into the grass. “So, shouldn’t you have…not tackled me?”
“Add it to the never-ending list of stupid things I’ve done over the past month. If you want to touch the poison flag and break out into a rash, then be my guest.”
Now that he’s out of harm’s way, I roll off him. He doesn’t move, still splayed out on the ground.
“We can win without cheating,” I say, more to myself than him. “You should try it sometime.”
Finding the others will take time, and I’ll need to come up with a gentle way to explain that I completely bombed the plan I’d been so intent on, so I take off in the direction I came. I’ve barely made it two feet when Julian’s hand closes around my wrist.
“What is it with you and grabbing my wrist?” I snap.
“Thank you,” he says at the same time, the soft cadence of his voice lost beneath the harshness of mine.
I hold my wrist to my chest, running my fingers along the tender skin until the warmth of his touch begins to fade. If we were still…whatever we were before, I’d say something cute like “That’s what fake boyfriends are for.” I’m not sure what I can say to him anymore.
“You’re welcome.” A civil response. Maybe that’s all we can be now. Civil.
Because I’m weak, I give him a chance. I stay in place, arms crossed, waiting for him to tell me whatever it is he needs to say so badly. But he just stares at me. For a brief second, I wonder if he’s going to kiss me. For an even briefer second, I hope he’s going to kiss me. That’s a dangerous line of thought, so I decide he’s had enough time, and like I told him three weeks ago, I don’t owe him anything.
“I told my dad,” he calls out when I start walking away.
This is probably a trap, I tell myself. But that doesn’t stop me from freezing. I don’t turn around, scanning the perimeter for any of his siblings waiting to launch a sneak attack.
“Told him what?” I reply once I’m sure the coast is clear.
“Everything.” His voice is closer, close enough that I can feel the words on the back of my neck. When I turn, he’s there, too close and too earnest, but I don’t run. “About Princeton, about what really happened with Liam.”
I don’t know if I should believe him, let alone how to respond. Logic says that this is part of his plan. Just because I figured out what he was up to doesn’t mean he can’t still see it through.
“How did he take it?” Neutral ground. My guard stays up.
“Better than I thought.” He shrugs, the simple movement a startling reminder of how oddly close we are. It wouldn’t take much to close the distance, just a tiny bit of courage. “Mom called him beforehand, after I told her I wanted to come clean. They talked for over an hour, and whatever she said made him willing to listen, for once.”
This is the point where I should go. I’ve heard what he had to say, and while I’m glad he gets to live his truth, it doesn’t change ours.
“I’m sorry,” he says before I can decide either way. “For lying to you, for dragging you into this. And especially for hurting you. You don’t have to forgive me, or ever talk to me again, but I couldn’t let you leave without telling you that you’re the most wonderful thing to happen to me in a really long time. And I’m sorry that I made you think you were anything less than that.”
He says it so quickly it leaves him breathless. There are plenty of questions I could ask, routes I could take, and yet only one comes to mind.
“Did you tell him about us?” I ask, less than a whisper.
The question makes him smile, something that shouldn’t still make my heart race. “Just the truth—that at first we were only pretending to be together because of Liam.” I don’t realize his hand is in mine until he’s running his thumb along my knuckles. Did he reach out, or did I?
“Why not tell him the whole story?”
“Because the rest of it was real. And that part’s just for us.”
A thousand words sit on the tip of my tongue, but Julian has said the only ones that matter.
We meet halfway, his hand on my waist and my fingers in his hair. We kiss slow and fast, light and heavy, for every time I thought of him, but he wasn’t there. Forgiveness, longing, apologies, written and whispered in the brush of our lips and tips of our fingers. When we open our eyes, it could all be over. He could knock me over and hold me down until his siblings secure the win. He could still stab me in the back like he’d planned to. For now, I hold him tight wherever I can, his shirt, his hair, nipping his lower lip with my teeth. I’m not ready to let him go yet.
Henry comes out of the woodwork, running over to Julian as quickly as he can. “Someone’s coming,” he announces, looking warily over his shoulder.
“Let’s go, Romeo,” Stella hisses, appearing from behind a nearby tree.
My stomach plummets as we pull apart. This is it, whatever they had planned. Julian senses my apprehension, tightening his grip around my waist. He’s too strong for me to yank free, so he has me exactly where he wants me.
“Devin!” Maya calls out, followed by the sound of footsteps. I’m so glad she remembered my warning to come find me if I didn’t make it back to base within fifteen minutes.
“Maya!” I shout back, hoping she’ll know how to follow my voice.
My knee pivots, prepared to nail Julian right in the crotch, when he suddenly releases me. I stumble, tripping over a gnarled tree root and falling onto my ass. Everything but the treetops becomes a blur, stars and muted shapes clouding my vision. This is how I die, huh? Surrounded by the Seo-Cookes in the middle of the woods?
Can’t say I didn’t see that one coming.
A warmth covers me, a familiar smell overwhelming my senses. My body tenses beneath Julian’s, his slotted so easily against mine. If I had any energy left, I’d push him away, but I accept my fate and let him press our linked fingers into the damp leaves.
“May the best man win,” he whispers against my lips, and kisses me like I’m a prize to be won.
“Get off him! I have pepper spray!” Maya shouts, followed by the rattle of her shaking the can to life.
“Oh shit, she does.” Henry springs into action, pulling Julian off me by the scruff of his shirt. Julian stumbles but manages to flash me one last smile before taking off into the trees with his siblings. They’re gone faster than I can process, but before they disappear, I spot someone new waving to the three of them. Mr. Cooke, watching me for the briefest of seconds before vanishing into the trees.
Either I have a serious concussion, or we’re going to see some pigs with wings any second now.
“Dev, are you okay?” Maya races toward me, tossing the can of pepper spray aside as she collapses onto the ground beside me.
I nod, propping myself up against the base of the tree. Once I’m up, I realize Julian pushed something into my hand before he took off.
“Did he hurt you?” Maya asks while brushing leaves and chunks of dirt off the back of my shirt.
I shake my head, slowly unfolding the crumpled ball of cloth. Maya freezes, lips parting in a silent gasp as I lay the bright blue cloth out in front of us.
TEAM 7: SEO-COOKE
“Did you…” Maya trails off, blinking up at me in awe.
My fingers run reverently along the name written in Victorian chicken scratch.
“We won.”