Page 36 of Not Safe for Work

As we gather in our assigned places, my gaze finds Rafe again. He glares and cracks his knuckles, and I point at him and then to a spot on the ground before grinding my toe into the dirt. His eyes darken to the hue of cinnamon swirled in chocolate, and the barest curve forms ever so slowly on his lips.

It’s not a smile… I don’t know what it is.

I turn away, but I feel his gaze burning a hole in my back. I resist the urge to turn around, but my resolve crumbles, and I peer over my shoulder to find him watching me with a hungry intensity that sets my pulse galloping.

A whistle shrieks, shocking me back into focus before my team discusses our plans.

We work well together under a shower of light rain, clearing the first few rounds as we strategize through every obstacle, climbing over angled walls and sliding down ropes. If Andy’s hands seem to end up on me a little more than is strictly necessary, I tell myself I don’t mind.

After several hours and many nail-biting rounds, our team is soggy but still standing and prepared to head into the final round. Predictably, the second team left is Rafe’s. We’re going head-to-head for that coveted dinner.

“You should probably just give up now,” Andy taunts.

Rafe grinds his jaw, and Andy gives him a bland smile, clearly getting under his skin. Andy moves closer to me, placing a hand on the small of my back, and Rafe’s eyes go dark.

“If you’re scared, just say so,” Rafe taunts. “It’s obvious who’s going to win this.”

I roll my eyes. “Can we stop with the barbarian chest beating? Everyone play nice. Especially you, Gallagher.” I point my finger at Rafe, and after giving me a Who me? look, he has the grace to look at least a little abashed. But then he pins me with that smile that isn’t a smile, and my skin erupts into a field of goose bumps that have nothing to do with being cold.

“Everyone!” Our leader claps her hands and blasts a shrill tweet on her whistle. I swear I’m going to shove that thing down her throat. “Our final two teams will now repeat the entire course, front to back. The team that captures the red pennant first wins. You can arrange yourselves however you wish. There are no rules other than you cannot interfere with the other team in any way, or I will immediately disqualify you. Do I make myself clear?” She directs her question to me and Rafe, obviously remembering us from the Ferris wheel challenge.

The eight of us nod sagely, and Rafe and I exchange a glance that burns like lava through my veins.

“You take the tires.” Lan is pointing to Gabrielle. “You were fastest on those. Andy, the rope wall. I’ll take the tightropes and the swing rope, and Tris, you’re on the monkey bar rings. I’ve never known a woman with such freakish upper body strength.”

I smile, preening at the compliment, whether she intended it that way or not.

Gabrielle is the first to go, and we all stand behind her at the start line. A moment later, Whistle Mouth emits a screech, and everyone is off. As Gabrielle tackles her obstacles, we head for our respective stations, getting into position.

I’ll be the last to go right before the finish line. I climb onto a wooden platform standing about five feet above the ground. Two long ropes stretch over a pool of muddy water, each with about a dozen wooden rings dangling in a row.

My hands are raw, and my shoulders are tired from having done this several times already, but I rub my wet palms on my legs and focus. It’ll take less than a minute to cross.

When a familiar head of dark brown hair climbs up the ladder, my determination solidifies into iron. Rafe jumps on the platform and strides over, puffed up like a rooster.

“Gallagher,” I say, forging my voice with a challenge. “I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Big talk for a small girl, Malik.” I see we’re into using last names. This feels appropriate and gives me the distance I need right now.

A round of cheers rises in the distance, and we both peer through the trees as Rafe’s teammate Joe and Lan clear the tightrope strung between two thick trees. It’s the last obstacle before they tag off with us.

Lan and Joe jump down from the circular platform attached to the trunk, sprinting through the bushes to where Rafe and I are waiting. They’re neck and neck, and this is going to be tight.

As Lan and Joe ascend the top of the ladder, they run for me and Rafe, both of us hunched in ready stances. The distance between us is about ten feet, and just as they’re about to reach us, several things happen at once.

Someone trips. I’m not sure who because everything becomes a tangle of limbs as Lan and Joe morph into a human squid. Lan’s shoulder thumps into my chest as she tumbles. I step back, my foot meeting nothing but air. Arms windmilling, I attempt to recover my balance, reaching for something to stop my plummet off the edge.

Unfortunately, that thing is Rafe. My fingers snag on the fabric of his shirt, my hand fisting into the material. But momentum propels me over the side, throwing off his balance.

Rafe careens towards me, and I scream as I begin to fall. His broad frame crashes into mine, his arms wrapping around me as we tumble. Time slows to a drip as we descend, air whooshing in my ears until, all at once, I’m engulfed by a tide of mud, driven under the surface by two hundred pounds of bone and muscle.

Mud fills my eyes and my nose and my mouth, and this is how I die.

My lungs burn as I fight for air. I feel Rafe moving on top of me, his hands touching me everywhere. Limbs flailing, I kick and punch for what feels like forever, when finally, his weight shifts, and a pair of strong hands lift me out of the muddy water. As my face breaks the surface, I gasp, choking and coughing as I clutch my chest. My lungs ache, and my vision drips with murky rivulets. We’re both on our knees, the water coming up to my chest.

My head spins, and I collapse against Rafe, his solid form saving me from another brush with death.

“Tris, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”