Matched (41 page)

“And we’re down to half!” Tom booms in a chipper voice as we all join him on the beach. “Emma.” He smiles at her, and his cakey face morphs into something tolerable, with actual sincerity on it. “We’re all thrilled to see you back, and looking wonderful. Are you ready for a challenge?”

“Hell yeah!” Emma whoops and fist-pumps the air. Court grins beside her, shaking his head.

“That’s the spirit! All right, let’s get started then. Today’s mini challenge is called ‘Makes Sense.’ You’ll be pairing up guy/girl for this one. It’ll be a test of your senses, memory, and teamwork. There’ll be five rounds, and together you must decide which of you takes number one, without yet knowing number two, and so on.” A grin splits across his face. “Ah, and before you get any ideas about being a hero, the division of participation in the sections must be three/two. So pair up and go stand at one of the color-coded starting marks, please.

“The team who wins best of five rounds today receives the standard $5,000 for their charities, and the luxury item—an all-day, private island cruise complete with snorkeling lesson and onboard dinner. Any questions?”

Warm, large hands come to rest on my hips as Cruz claims me for his partner. “Damn if I haven’t been waiting to do that,” he husks in my ear, firming his grip. “Any thoughts on how you wanna play this, or you just wanna wing it?”

I turn to glance over my shoulder, raising a brow.

“I’m really asking, Harlow.” He winks. “You got a plan? Lemme hear it, gorgeous.”

“No, no plan,” I babble semi-coherently. Who knew there was a “me” in “team” when it came to Cruz?

“Looks like everyone’s paired off, so here we go!”
Freakin’ Tom. Always talking.

I follow Cruz. He’s at my side, but growling at Emma on his other side. “Nothing crazy, Em. And Court?”

“Yup?”

“If you’re gonna be her partner, do your job. Anything goes wrong, it’s
your
ass.”

“As I recall, I kept her
more
than safe while swimmin’ across a lake blindfolded. I got her. Always got her.” Court’s promise couldn’t sound more sincere, and his arm tugs Emma closer against him protectively.

Miranda’s with Miles and he’s twitching with strategy, holding her back by the elbow and rapid-firing his whispered plan at her.
The new, improved Peyton
. I laugh to myself.

We stop at the row of markers in the ground. “Doesn’t look like your favorite color’s an option. Any of the choices jumping out at you?” Cruz asks me with a chuckle.

“Oh yeah?” I sass. “What’s my favorite color?”

“Purple.”

“And you know this
how
?”

“Your toothbrush, pillowcase, headband you wear until your hair dries, and…” His hand brushes the side of my shorts. “You’re wearing it right now. Purple.” There’s that wink again. “Will green work for you?”

The man is an anomaly.

“Green’s good,” I utter, starry-eyed.

When we’ve all hit a colored mark, Tom reenters the spotlight. “Looks like we’ve got Orange Team, Jasmine and Miles; Red Team, Emma and Court; Green Team, Harlow and Cruz; and Yellow Team, Nadia and Jensen. This first event is all about hearing. You have thirty seconds to deliberate and nominate your contender.

I lean my forehead against Cruz’s and shoot him a grin; he returns it knowingly. He hears
everything
, so this is a no-brainer. “Can you hear me?” I barely breathe out, more mouthing it than anything.

He laughs, and mouths back
Yes
.

“Those competing, step forward; those waiting, step back,” Tom instructs.

Emma and I huddle together and watch as crewmembers place headphones on Cruz, Court, Miranda, and Nadia. Then all of a sudden, they start…having seizures? I mean, seriously, Nadia’s
barking,
Court’s hopping on his right boot, Cruz is…
is that
twirling
?
And Miranda’s cupping sand and dumping it back and forth from hand to hand. Then…they’re all charging at us, mimicking what I’m guessing is playing in their ears.

“First teammate to guess three wins this round!” Tom yells as Cruz flaps his bent arms like a…duck?

Not
a very well-thought-out game; we’re screaming out answers, and crewmembers shout when we get one correct. Those with headphones on can’t hear, so I have no idea how they know when to act out something new.

But it’s fun. I'm laughing so hard I'm crying by the time Team Yellow’s declared the winners and Cruz uncovers his ears.

“I almost didn’t do the ballerina thing. Gonna need you to erase that from your mind,” he all but demands, and I laugh harder. “It can’t possibly help my sex appeal.”

“It was hot,” I tease. “On fire.”

He hooks me around the neck and growls as we report back for round two.

“Next up, smell. You have thirty seconds to decide who’s playing,” Tom says.

Smell?
That doesn’t sound good. Cruz must pick up on my distaste, because he taps the end of my crumpled-up nose and says, “I’ll do it.”

“I have to do
something
. I can, if—”

“Three more after this. You’ll get your chance.” He winks and approaches his competitors.

“Smellers, please have a seat in the chairs and prepare to be blindfolded. The rest of you, go around to the opposite side of the table, across from your partners. When I say go, you will hold one labeled tube under your partner’s nose. There’s no passing; if you don’t guess correctly, keep trying. We’re allowing your teammate to give you two one-word verbal clues
total
, so use them wisely. First team with three scents correctly identified wins this round. If everyone’s ready…GO!”

I’m handed my first tube—“Garlic”—and I spare him, using one clue right away.

“Vampires.”

“Garlic.”

“Yes!” I squeal, accepting vial two and placing it under his nose. He’ll get this one—it’s the same scent as my bath salts.

“Grapefruit,” he growls, with the verve of an unspoken secret.

One more to go. I snatch the third tube from the crew dude’s hand, which reads “Cod Liver Oil.”
Damn it.
I can’t think of a clue, so with a silent apology, I put it under his nose.

“Cod liver oil,” he announces in a millisecond.

“I hate that stuff!” Emma yells from down the row just as quickly.

“Winners, Team Green!”

Cruz rips off his blindfold and rounds the table, hugging me. “We’re a good team. Great clue.”

“Great sniffer.” I giggle, somewhat at him but more at Emma, whom I can hear giving Court a pep talk about upping his game.

“Who’s ready for the third test?” Tom asks I hope rhetorically, since no one responds. “Wonderful! Now it’s time for sight.”

Which means the last two are taste and touch—the former making me all kinds of nervous. “I’ll take this one,” I say, feeling confident.

“Crush it,” he says with a nod.

When situated, I see I’m up against Court, Miles, and Jensen. But Emma and Miranda both cheer for me.

“You’ll have three minutes to study a picture containing fifty scattered images. At the end of that time, the photo will be replaced with pen and paper. The first player to list fifteen correct items they saw wins. Partners sitting out, you speak, you lose. Everyone ready? GO!”

The top sheet’s removed, and I’m presented with a hodgepodge of random images. We did something a lot like this in Brownies once, and I know the trick is to focus on a specific fifteen items, then memorize the list in your mind using an acronym. So I do: “IDONTLIKETAGSNO.”

At the end of the three minutes, I write like mad—‘igloo, dinosaur, ostrich, nail, teepee, lips, ice cream, kite, egg, tomato, arrow, giraffe, socks, nose, owl.’

“Done!” I yell, and my paper’s collected and checked.

“Winner, Team Green!”

“Attagirl!” Cruz leans down from behind and hugs me, but I don’t miss the brush of his lips across my cheek. “I couldn’t have done that. Amazing.” He helps me up.

“If Harlow and Cruz win this fourth round, the mini challenge will be over. So one of you other teams really need this one, touch!” Tom actually smirks. I shudder at the implication.

“I’m willing to touch,” Cruz whispers, wiggling his eyebrows. “That’s just the nice kinda guy I am.”

I roll my eyes and punch his shoulder lightly. “I appreciate that, but that leaves taste for me. And I’m not liking the sound of that.”

“Looks like you’ll be doing the touching, then.”

I shiver at the static spark between us and the heat in his tone.

“Emma, production has insisted that Court do this for your team,” Tom announces. “The rest of you, send your player forward.”

My nerves quadruple; it must be bad if Emma can’t even play. I stop at the two wooden boxes on the wobbling—no,
convulsing—
legs.

“Harlow, let me do it.” Cruz grabs my elbow.

“No, I’m fine. I seriously can’t eat anything gross. I’ve got it.”

“Participants, please have a seat. When I say go, you have five seconds to place your hands all the way into the boxes in front of you. The one on your left holds 100 Madagascar hissing cockroaches; the right, fifty corn snakes. The person who leaves their hands inside the boxes the longest wins. Teammates, you may do as you wish to support them. Any questions?”

“Yes!” I yell. “Are either of those creatures poisonous?”

“No,” Tom says, and actually
laughs. Fucker.

“Do they bite?” Miranda asks, representing her team this round.

“
When
cockroaches bite, it’s most often during a person’s sleep.” Tom must want that grin smacked right off his face. “Remember, you have five seconds to take a deep breath and get your hands in past mid-forearm, or you’ll be disqualified. Ready, and…GO!”

Miranda screams and knocks over her chair, quitting even before my hands are all the way in. My eyes are as clenched shut as they can get. Jensen’s cackling, and Court’s silent. And then there’s Cruz, squatting right beside me, taking my chin in his hands to steal my attention. He’s so close I can feel his warm, minty breath on my face.

“Harlow. Eyes on me,” he says strongly, and I peel my right hand open as something crawls over it. Corn snakes are harmless; I’m not that concerned—just creeped
way
out. “You’re doing so good. Eyes, gorgeous, right on me. There ya go. Think about yourself after graduation—planning events, big and small. What kind of wedding would you throw for
you
?”

“I, uh…” I twitch and whimper. I can
hear
the hissing.

“What colors? Purple and?” he prompts.

“Lilac…light lilac, and white. Ouch!” I sob, a salty tear falling to my lips quickly. “They
do
bite.” More tears flow. “And flowers, lots of—
oh, God!
” I wail, panting and weeping in panic.

He’s on me quickly, yanking my hands out and brushing off the clingers. “It’s okay, I got ’em. All gone. No blood. You’re fine.” He wraps his arms around me, humming in my ear as Tom disqualifies us from this round.

“Get me a bottle of water!” he barks, leading me to the crew tent. “Hold out your hands for me,” he orders gently, pouring the cold liquid over them after someone obliges.

“Better?” He cups my cheeks, and I give a shaky nod.

We walk over to Miranda, who’s still squeamish just watching. The three of us take a seat on the ground with the others, waiting for Court and Jensen to concede.

It has to be almost an hour later when Emma pulls the plug. “Court, I swear to God I will not think you’re a quitter, but I’m about to fall asleep. So if you’ll kindly remove your hands from those friggin’ boxes, I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Emma!” Cruz reprimands her from our reclined positions in the shade.

“Eyes on your own paper, Cruz! I’m hot and bored!” she yells back, and I suppress a laugh.

“You’re hot?” Court springs back, his hands leaving the boxes as he rushes to her side in one worried movement. I don’t think he even realizes he forfeited.

“Jensen’s won!” Tom declares.

Nadia’s clapping, while Court walks Emma toward us in the tent. Cruz is waiting impatiently with a bottle of water for her to drink, and another for Court to wash his hands.

Tom’s still rambling. “The tiebreaker will be between Team Green and Team Yellow, and will address the sense of taste. I need you four, please.”

Cruz stays at Emma’s side and I’m fine with that, but Court’s got other plans. “Go whip his ass, man. I
will
take care of her.”

“I’m
fine,
” Emma adds. “Stop the hovering, seriously. Everyone out here’s hot—
it’s hot outside!
Geez!”

“Cruz, Harlow—now, or you’re eliminated,” Tom interjects bravely.

“Your call,” I assure him. “I agree with whatever you choose.” He interlocks our fingers, and we emerge from the tent. I wanted Emma to win this whole thing anyway, so if that’s not going to happen, I’m okay with whatever—especially taking care of her.

“Here they are. Last round, winner takes all. Who's coming?” Both the men—correction, one man and one Jensen
—
step forward. “Under these lids are three
servings;
a twenty-one-ounce glass filled with the raw liquid insides of an ostrich egg, a plate of fish eyeballs, and last but not least, a bowl containing two Rocky Mountain oysters…also known as bull testicles. But don’t worry—we’re not sadistic here at
Date, Mate, Fate
. You may pick whichever two of the entrées you find most appetizing.

“The first of you to consume your chosen entrées without regurgitating them wins this entire challenge! Your teammates may also support you in any way they see fit, as long as they don’t help you eat or touch the…
food
in any way. Questions?”

“Cruz.” I pull him to the side. “Listen, I’d love nothing more than to beat those two and spend a date with you, but think about it this way, if we win, we’ll be gone on the cruise all day, away from Emma.”

He looks over at her, then glares at Jensen before securing my gaze again. He’s on the fence, so I’m aiming below the belt…pun intended. “And not assuming you would, or…whatever…but if you
are
planning on kissing me, like,
ever
again…please don’t put that disgusting stuff anywhere near your mouth.”