I opened my pack to offer him my spare bottle, only to find it was also nearly empty. The combination of jungle heat and physical exertion had caused us to drink more than anticipated.
“We’ve got extra,” Ernie said, passing back two full water bottles. “George always overpacks.”
“Boy Scout habit,” George explained. “Always be prepared.”
“Thanks,” I said, genuine gratitude in my voice as I handed a bottle to Ray. “We owe you.”
“Consider it a thank you for the help in the past,” Ernie replied with a wave of his hand. “Besides, dehydration is no joke in this climate.”
Over the next few hours, the remaining teams checked in: the sorority sisters, the gay friends, the NBA wives, the male models, and the doctors. Last to arrive were the food truck owners, looking exhausted and irritable.
“Jenny and Carlos,” Julie said solemnly, “you are the last team to arrive. I’m sorry to tell you that you have been eliminated from the race.”
The chefs nodded, clearly having expected this outcome. During their exit interview, it became apparent they had argued extensively during the climb, wasting precious time blaming each other for navigation errors.
We were given clear directions to our accommodations for the night, a rustic hotel at the edge of the park. As we climbed back down the trail to where we’d parked the rental car Ray pulled me aside.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
“For what?”
“For today. For pushing yourself with everything. For making me laugh when we were both covered in... well, you know.”
I smiled. “It’s been a while since we laughed together like that.”
“Too long,” Ray agreed. He hesitated, then added, “I’ve missed it. Missed us.”
That evening, showered and pleasantly exhausted, we settled into the hotel room that had been assigned to us. The race organizers had even provided fresh clothes to replace our monkey-poop-stained outfits.
Ray came out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry. “I think I finally got that smell out of my nostrils,” he said with a wry smile.
“I wouldn’t count on it,” I replied. “I think monkey poop might be a permanent part of our olfactory memory now.”
He settled on the bed in his boxers, his reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose, looking at a map of Venezuela. “Tomorrow morning they’re probably going to send us back to the airport and on to the next country,” he said.
“I hope it’s a country with indoor plumbing,” I said.
Ray took his glasses off and put them on the bedside table, along with the map. “You were great today, babe,” he said. “Those NBA wives couldn’t hold your bedroom slippers,” Ray said. He ran his finger back and forth over the bottom of my neck, the only part showing above the towel.
Though his touch was delicate, his fingers were rough and calloused, and I shivered. “You like that?” he asked, nuzzling my neck. His hand slipped beneath the towel and his finger started tracing circles around my nipple.
The room was filled with a soft, warm glow from the setting sun, casting long shadows that danced gently on the walls. Ray and I stood facing each other, the air thick with a mix of tension and longing. His eyes, filled with a familiar warmth, met mine, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.
Ray’s hand reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against my cheek. The touch was gentle, almost hesitant, but it sent a shiver down my spine. I closed my eyes, savoring the sensation, feeling the weight of the past few months lift ever so slightly.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. The sincerity in his tone was palpable, and it tugged at my heartstrings. I opened my eyes to find him closer, his breath mingling with mine.
“I know,” I replied softly, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside me. Our foreheads touched, and we stayed like that for a moment, just breathing each other in.
Ray’s hand moved from my cheek to the nape of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair. The gesture was intimate, familiar, and it brought back a flood of memories. Good ones, before everything got complicated. I let out a soft sigh, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease.
His other hand found mine, our fingers intertwining naturally, as if they had never been apart. The warmth of his touch spread through me, a comforting reminder of the love we had shared for so many years.
Slowly, Ray leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in a tender, almost reverent kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of apologies and forgiveness, of love and longing. I responded in kind, my lips moving softly against his, feeling the familiar contours of his mouth.
The kiss deepened, becoming more passionate but still tender. Our bodies pressed closer, the heat between us growing. Ray’s hands moved to my waist, pulling me against him, and I felt his heartbeat, strong and steady, against my chest.
We broke apart for a moment, our breaths ragged, eyes locked. There was a silent understanding between us, a promise to try again, to rebuild what had been broken. Ray’s lips curved into a small, hopeful smile, and I couldn’t help but mirror it.
