Blind Reality (16 page)

I make my way toward the stairs; each step seems to be slower than the last. As soon as Joey is at the board I look quickly to see what letters we need before climbing up the steps. We only need two more.

“This sucks,” Cole mumbles as he tries to knock the goop off his hand.

“I know.”

“Can’t we just forfeit?”

I shake my head. “It’s for the master suite. Someone has to win the room.”

“I don’t even care. We can just screw in the shower,” he mutters as he leans against the makeshift wall. I don’t want to think about him and Millie in the shower because one, it makes me jealous that I’m not doing that with Joey and two, I’m absolutely desperate for a shower.

“Here goes nothing.” Sitting down on the slide I push off. Flour flies up into my mouth, making me gag. You’d think by now we’d have all the flour on our bodies, but it’s procreating like magic. It seems like each time I get down here there’s more and more white crap to make my life miserable.

The first letter I find is one we don’t need, but it sticks to my hand. I shake it loose, only to have it fly and hit Cole in the back of his head.

“Sorry, man,” I say as I move the flour around more, getting on my knees to search the bottom. I find another letter, an “F”, and quickly look at the board. I’ve forgotten what I need. Joey is standing off to the side watching and if I could see clearly, I’d probably be able to see if she’s angry and telling me to hurry up. I can’t even hear well right now; my ears are clogged up full of crap. I reach down again and find another letter quickly. I pray that this is something I need because I have to get out of here.

My arm moves slowly, the flour fighting with the oil and many layers of honey. When it breaks free, an “S” stares back at me. The little boy inside of me rejoices and quickly cries when I get to the honey. I drop to my knees and then my elbows and army crawl my way through the thick amber goop. I used to like the smell of honey, but not anymore.

All bees must die after this.

As soon as I slap the “S” on the board Joey is already down the slide. She’s moving so much faster than I am. I’m in shape, but this comp is kicking my ass. I walk to the edge and cheer on Joey while she searches for the last letter needed.

“Come on, Joey,” I yell, hoping to encourage her. I let out a yelp when she jumps up and makes her way to the honey. I’d love to go in and just pull her through, but something tells me that I’d get in trouble and we’d be disqualified and there ain’t no way I’m losing now.

Joey reaches the edge and crawls a little bit of the way until she can stand. I follow and help her start to rearrange the letters to make H-A-P-P-I-N-E-S-S. We step and try to link hands, but we can’t.

“We did well I think.”

“Yeah, it’s a strong word.” I look around and see that Cole and Millie are done, but they’re hiding their word. Can’t blame them, we did the same thing. It was Joey’s idea to not put the letters up until we were almost done.

The bell sounds as soon as Amanda and Gary finish. I look down the line and see that everyone is as uncomfortable as I am, and I have a feeling we’ll all be bitching about this for days to come.

“Well done, newlyweds.” Patrick Jonas’ voice is grating. Usually I don’t mind when he’s on, but right now I want to strangle him. “Let’s see what we have for words. Amanda and Gary, tell us what you have?”

Joey and I face forward and wait for them to announce their word.

“Patrick, we’ve spelt computer,” Amanda answers, pride evident in her voice. It figures their word would be tech related.

I sigh in relief, knowing we’ve at least beat them by one point. Patrick calls on Millie and Cole next.

“Patrick, we’ve spelt reality,” Millie says in defeat. She already knows that they’ve lost to Amanda and Gary.

I’m trying not to smile, but it’s no use. Victory is ours, and it’s much needed. We’re going to need to use the jets in the tub to clean certain body parts and it needs to happen fast because I’m starting to chafe.

“Joey and Joshua, what did you spell?”

Joey stands tall and proud as she states, “Patrick, we’ve spelt happiness.”

“And are you happy, Joey?”

“Yes, I am,” she says without hesitation. I wish I wasn’t questioning what part is making her happy. The part where we just won another week in the master suite and a hot tub? Or the part where I’m in her life? I shouldn’t be worrying about how she feels toward me because I’ve told her that we’re done once the show ends, but now I’m having second thoughts since we’ve slept together. At least, I think we did. Every now and again I have a déjà vu moment and can only chalk it up to us being intimate. I just can’t prove it.

“Well congratulations, Joey and Joshua, you’re in the master suite this week. And now for the hot tub winner, which was done by online vote. The winner of the hot tub, for your future home is … Amanda and Gary, congrats on the fan vote and we’ll see you in a few days with an announcement!”

Joey runs—well, as much as she can with flour patties flying everywhere—to Amanda and gives her hug. Cole and I both waddle over to Gary and pat him on the back. No one is congratulating Joey and me for winning, but whatever. All I care about right now is a shower. A long, hot … “Hey, Joey, let’s go check out the master suite.”

She looks at me oddly, but shrugs her shoulders. I wait for her by the door, but she doesn’t come alone. Everyone is following. Last week when Millie and Cole won, the room was decorated differently. The girls became enthralled, while Cole, Gary, and I just stood there. Right now I just want to get her alone before I lose my nerve.

None of us care about the crap we’re dragging into the house. Our shoes are ruined and it’ll likely take multiple washes to get our clothes clean. Sadly, we’ll have to clean the mess on the floor, but that can happen later. I reach the door to the master suite first with Joey right beside me. The transformation, if any, isn’t as dramatic as the producers make it seem. When I open the door, I can’t help the smile that I now have or the internal fist pumping going on in my head. The producers are evil and I love it. Our master suite is almost identical to the room I prefer downstairs with everything done in red and black, adding in white accents. I’m tempted to change the color of my bedroom in my apartment, if only it didn’t violate my lease.

“Huh,” Joey says, as she walks around the room. “I was expecting something different.” She stands in the center, with her hands on her hips. I can’t take her serious though because she has clumps of flour peeling off her skin right now. The zombie apocalypse is happening right before our eyes.

“Everyone out, and go clean up. Maybe we can grill tonight.” I usher the others out of the room, picking up a few snickers about ‘sex’ and ‘being eager’ as they leave. If they only knew how well I’ve gotten to know my palm because I have a phobia of being married. I lock the door, testing the doorknob for good measure. Joey is still standing in the same spot, but her earlier defiance pose is now gone.

“We need to shower.” I step up to her, wanting to touch her, but am afraid we’d stick to each other. I can’t give her everything she wants, but I may be able to meet her halfway. Right now I’m willing to test my resolve and I hate that about myself. I should tell her to run far and fast before we step into that shower. Every day that I’m with her is chipping away at my walls. I hate that we’ve slept together and I can’t remember it and that needs to change. I’ve gotten a foggy taste and need more.

“You can go first. I think I’ll just use the tub.”

I shake my head slowly. “You’re going to need my help getting this crap out of your hair. We can shower together.” I sidestep her and head for the bathroom, not waiting for her response. We’ve taken a bath together before and left our swimsuits on, this can be different. I start the water, testing the temperature before stepping in. I should holler to her, ask her if she’s planning on joining me, but I don’t. I’ve left the decision up to her.

The hot spray is a welcome reprieve. My muscles ache and need this relaxation. My heart beats a bit faster when I hear the shower door open. When her hands press against my back and her fingers work the knots out of my shoulders, I tilt my head back, letting the water rain down on my face as I bask in her massage. She doesn’t have to do this, especially since I’m so cold to her half the time, but again she just keeps proving to me over and over again how much better she is than everyone else I know.

I shiver slightly when the cool liquid soap touches my skin. Her hands work the soap into a sudsy lather down my arms, washing away the concoction from our event. “Turn around,” she whispers, just barely over the sound of the water. I do, and everything stops; the water rushing down on us, time, and my train of thought. Joey stands in front of me, naked and teasing me. When her eyes meet mine, I can see her fear, but only briefly. She continues her path as her hands move over my chest, down the front of my stomach until her fingers are gripping the waistband of my shorts. My hands clamp down on hers and she looks away.

Rejection.

Pushing her hands a little, I guide them until my shorts are loose enough that I can kick them into the corner of the shower. Joey tilts her head, telling me what she wants. One thing I know for sure is I enjoy kissing her. It’s like an aphrodisiac of what’s waiting for me, if I were to take it. My hand cups her cheek, my fingers tangling in her hair. Her eyes close in anticipation. Snaking my arm around her waist, I pull her against me. The moment her naked body touches mine, I jerk in response. All my rules are quickly flying out the window and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to stop them.

I brush my lips over hers, and she sighs, opening her mouth slightly. She’s inviting me in, showing me that I can take her, that she’s mine. I trace my tongue over her lips, her breath fanning over my mouth. “Joey,” I whisper before closing the gap. Her nails dig into my skin, a pain I want to feel. Our tongues meet, in a slow and steady pace. My arm tightens around her waist as I pick her up and press her back against the cold tile. She arches into me as she wraps her legs around my waist and causes the most severe ache. Her hands roam, moving over my sore muscles, kneading and massaging as she moves against me. When her fingers push into my hair and pull, I think I’ve lost it. My mouth trails along her jaw, to her ear and down her neck, nipping at her collarbone as I hold her to me, rocking her body against mine.

We’re close, too close, but I don’t care. I want her. I’ve wanted her since I kissed her on the stage after we said our vows. From that moment, I knew she was someone special, but also knew that if I kept her, I’d damage her and she’d hate me. Joey pulls on my earlobe, causing me to groan. Her hand moves down my chest, reaching the small patch of hair below my navel. Everything I want and everything I fear is about to happen and I don’t care. My eyes roll back when she touches me. Her grasp is firm and steady, and I fight the urge to pull her down on top of me.

Joey leans back, with one hand tight on my shoulder. “Stop fighting this,” she says as her lips crash down on mine.

I need to listen.

S
omeone pinch me. No, wait, don’t because if this isn’t reality, I’d rather stay where I am. He’s letting me touch him, freely and without reservation. He’s not pushing me away, or asking me stop. Josh wants this, and he wants it with me.

The heat from the hot water intensifies everything that I’m feeling. Our bodies are slick and overheated, the anxiousness of what is about to happen seeping through. The cool tiles that are pressed against my back do nothing to curb the burning that I’m feeling. I kiss him hard, crushing my mouth to his. He growls as I stroke him; his hand grips my hips hard and I hope there are marks left so I can recall this moment. Pulling away, my forehead rests against his, our breathing labored, our mouths hovering over each other’s. One slip, one push and he’ll be in.

“Newlyweds, please report to the living room.”

Joshua all but drops me onto the shower floor. My legs, barely down in time, catch myself before I land on my ass.

“We can ignore them,” I plead, not wanting this moment to end. I stand up and face him, looking for any signs of regret. The only thing I see is torment. I don’t know if he’s still fighting an inner battle, remembering the other night, or about to kill the producers. We’re getting so close and it’s like they’re watching us, trying to keep us apart. I want to cry, but that will make him think he’s done something wrong, and he hasn’t.