“I want to be the person you see in me,” he says.
“Then do it,” I whisper. I reach up and brush the soft hair on his jawline. “Be that person. I’ve seen him on the island. You don’t worry as much about how you’ll come off to others. You smile more. You laugh more. And there is happiness in your eyes.”
Just then, Colton shifts, looking uneasy, and my hand falls to the blanket. He presses his thumb and forefinger to his eyes, covering the stress lurking beneath.
“What is it?” I ask.
He takes a deep breath, and I feel the sharp rise and fall of his chest. “It’s just—I want to keep the peace with my family. I don’t want things to go down like they did with my brother. If I ever did what Will did, if I tried to forge my own way without my dad’s consent, it would tear my family apart.” He rubs a hand over his beard, then leans back. “That’s why I have to win this. My dad will stay true to his word, and he’ll let me choose my own path with his stamp of approval. I’ll keep my family happy and live my own life, not my dad’s.”
“Okay.” I nod. “Then we’ll win this.”
Colton’s eyes find mine, their intensity building a fire inside me. His burning gaze, his soft smirk, and his ruggedly handsome features make me feel strangely vulnerable, so much so that Iresort to old measures, finding the mole above his left eyebrow. Hairy. Though now, it’s less of a distraction from Colton’s good looks and more like a part of them. Hairy’s become Handsome. Handsome Hairy.
Colton’s hand cups the side of my face, the light brushes of his thumb across my cheek sending heat across my skin. I close my eyes and lean into his touch. Finally, I give myself permission to look at him, despite how defenseless I feel. I’m instantly pulled into his gravity, so lost in his endless gaze that something shifts deep in my core.
Colton leans into me. “The funny thing is, Missy Jean, right now, I feel like I’ve already won.”
Colton’s lips press lightly against my cheek, then slowly he trails kiss after blessed kiss along my jaw and toward my mouth, turning my heart into a puddle.
I wrap my arms around his neck, and that’s when I hear it. The low hum of a drone.
How long has it been there?
I collapse my face into Colton’s chest, and he wraps both his arms around my back with a soft chuckle.
“I’m starting to think they’re programmed with a PDA sensor,” Colton says.
My laughter gets drowned in the fabric of his shirt. “I think I understand what Katniss and Peeta must have felt like.”
Just then, Colton pulls away from me with a daring smile on his face. “Have I ever told you that I’d make a pretty good Peeta?” he teases.
I bite my lip. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”
In an instant, Colton’s lips are on mine, his kiss tugging at my heartstrings, while his arms bring me closer into him. He surrounds me in a way that makes me wonder if I’ve ever really known what it feels like to be needed, to truly be the one at someone’s center.
Without hesitation, I kiss him back, a thrilling truth winding through me—I want this relationship. I want him.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register the drone buzzing ever closer and how Colton kissing me on television will no doubt horrify his dad, if not his whole family line. And yet, Colton doesn’t seem to care. His hands cup my face, and his kiss consumes my senses until I don’t know what is up or down or lurking underneath the bed. It’s just me and him.
I can’t help the feeling that washes over me. A feeling that I am in deep. A feeling that digs out that four-letter word that is terrifying, because with it comes pain. But there is no pain in this feeling now. It’s just Colton Downing and the fact that I’ve gone and fallen for him.
Chapter 25
COLTON
· DAY 18 ·
This is it. The final leg of the final challenge.
Missy and I hurriedly sort through a pile of painted logs that will make up our raft—the one we will use to ferry ourselves from Sabotage Island to a neighboring island where we’ll finally determine the winner of Season Twenty-Three.
Minutes ago, Missy and I had been directed to a specific section of the beach with our fellow contestants as the sun beat down its afternoon rays. Waiting for us was a bundle of prefabricated wood in our various team colors. Each of the final three teams were jittery, as we were all eager to start, but before we could, Niall had us all line up as he announced the resultsof the last round of America’s votes. Team Amber had come in first place, beating out our votes by the tiniest fraction, and were rewarded with a crew member that they could use to help build their raft.
At Niall’s signal, we’d all rushed to our piles of wood, assembling a seaworthy vessel using only the saw and rope we collected yesterday. On the far end of the beach, a large digital clock started to count down from fifty minutes, serving as a reminder of our limited time to get our rafts into shipshape condition.
Missy and I arrange the wood, laying the majority of our smaller logs next to one another until they make a tight rectangle that will serve as the base of our raft. Then we add our two thickest logs on the sides to help with stability in the water. We each take a moment to adjust some of the pieces so that the logs lie straight and uniform like militant soldiers, then we get to work, threading each piece together using our long strand of rope which we cut into three parts: one to tie the logs together at the top of the raft, one for tying the bottom, and one to cut up later when we tie in the crossbeams.
I’m thanking every single summer camp I’ve ever been to as I instruct Missy on the lashing techniques to bind our logs together, as well as how to tie clove hitch knots at the ends. Then we divide and conquer. She ties together the logs on the top half of our raft, and I tie together the bottom half.
