“Son?” It’s Joseph’s voice. “Shut up.”
Everyone in the airplane starts laughing. I even hear Silver giggling.
“Yes, Dad,” Tyrone submits.
A half hour or so later, the noise in the airplane has faded, replaced with soft, steady breathing from my bunkmates. But despite the exhaustion of the day, I find myself with a case of the zoomies. My body is restless, and my mind is filled with thoughts of my waking dream—the one where Colton and I win this thing and I can finally start my nonprofit and Colton won’t be subject to his dad for five long years.
Colton and I only have a handful of Reward Challenges left and one more Mayday Challenge to go before the fifth and last Mayday Challenge where the final three teams will compete for the prize money. With only four teams remaining, I feel as if victory is just an arm’s length away.
I hear, more than see, the bed above me shift before the sound of Colton’s feet padding lightly down the bunk bed ladder catches my attention. Just when I think he’s probably off to visit the restroom or get water, he comes to the side of my bed, crouching in front of me.
“Missy Jean?” he whispers.
I blink him into focus but see little more than his shadow and the cute little bits of hair sticking up from his cowlick. I nearly move my hand to brush them but realize it’s the dead of night and we’re not being filmed by drones or the lapel cam that’s faced away from me on the opposite side of my bed. Touching him now just feels outside the bounds of our fake relationship.
“You’re awake,” he says, a statement instead of a question.
My eyebrows scrunch together. “How’d you know?”
“You weren’t snoring like a jackhammer.”
I punch him in the arm. He cups a hand over his biceps and chuckles quietly.
A slight breeze enters the cabin, making the whole plane creak. I pull my blanket closer to me. Just then, Colton leans in, his face so close to mine that his breath skims over my bandaged cheek.
I try to quell the silly little butterflies flapping in my stomach.
“Missy?”
I can barely hear my name coming from his lips, likely because he doesn’t want the mic on the side of my bed picking anything up.
“Mm-hmm.”
“You want to get out of here?” he asks, ever closer.
I nod, a smile lifting my cheeks. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
Several minutes later, I pull my jacket close and fake a trip to the bathroom, leaving my lapel camera and mic behind before hobbling around the backside of the plane with my booted foot. I wait for Colton several paces into the jungle, just beyond the reach of the floodlights that shine from the exterior of the plane.
It only takes Colton a minute to find me.
“Where to?” I whisper, knowing we’re still in proximity of the plane and other contestants.
Instead of heading into the jungle like our other secret rendezvous, Colton gestures to the less frequented side of the beach that can’t be seen by those inside the plane. I follow himand his bulging backpack. What could he have possibly put in there? I nearly ask but opt for silence as we continue our slow walk farther down the beach.
When we finally stop, I can just barely make out the lights coming from the plane. And like the last time we took an unsanctioned getaway, I let out a big breath, relieved to be away from the nonstop cameras and mics.
“That’s something I won’t miss,” Colton says.
“What’s that?” I say, happy to no longer whisper.
“Being filmed twenty-four seven.” Colton slides his backpack off, kneels, and starts unzipping his bag.
I nod in agreement. “It’s one thing to be filmed walking across the stage in an evening gown or interviewed at a charity event, but to have people watching your every move, every moment of the day, it’s like I’m in a zoo.” I gently shake the sand from my boot before plopping down in front of the ocean and wrapping my arms around my legs as a buffer from the breeze.
“Exactly. Being asked by a reporter what my views are on global warming is nothing compared to getting a wedgie on camera.”
I laugh. Ah, how true that is.
