tormenting this girl is a sickness. I should be institutionalized.
“I figured since you didn’t know the property, it was probably best if you went with someone who did,” I lie, because ‘I get a hard-on when I fuck with you’ isn’t a rational answer.
The only reason I’d offered is because Dillon Johnson, our quarterback, had stepped forward when Palmer claimed to not have a partner. There is no way in hell I was letting him waltz out into these woods with her. I threw caution to the damn wind to save her from him. He’s not exactly the gentle kind. Ironic coming from a guy like me. There’s one difference. My girls are always willing participants.
“Don’t lie to me,” she deadpans, turning around to walk backwards, keeping her eyes dead set on mine.
“Trust me when I say he’s not someone you want to get mixed up with.” I grab her biceps, holding onto her tight because she’s about to trip over a thick vine running the length of the trail.
“Coming from you, I’ll take that with a grain of salt.”
“I’m not kidding, Palmer.” I grab her arm as she spins around.
She pulls away, understanding crossing her face. “Okay, noted.”
Despite the hell we’ve caused Palmer, she somehow perceives a little bit of humanity in me. She trusts me enough to believe me about Dillon.
We walk deeper into the woods without uttering a single word. This is probably for the best. Quiet is necessary to survive this first part of the game. Once we are a good mile in, I stop and listen to every noise around us. A loud boom echoes in the distance, signaling the beginning of the contest.
“Now, what?” Palmer asks.
“Now, we try to stay alive.”
“That’s metaphorical, right?” Her eyes widen, fear crossing them, draining a little bit of the beauty from her.
“I guess you’ll see soon enough.” I trek forward, pulling the checklist from my back pocket.
Palmer leans over, reading the paper. “We have to do all this and document it with a picture before we’re caught?”
“Which one would you like to start with?” I glance up from the list, and our stares lock. “Are we going the easy way or the hard way?”
“How about this one?” She points at number seven.
“Easy it is, then.” I tuck the paper into my jeans and walk forward.
Palmer follows me through the thick trees. Sticks snap around us, and in the distance, I spot Breaker and Delaney. I tug Palmer down, shielding her from them.
“The whole point of this game is to complete the tasks without being found,” I explain. Palmer acknowledges my hand on her arm by pulling it away. Amused by her antics, I move my hand to the back of her neck. “Once someone snaps your photo and sends it to the ringleader back at the house, you’re out. The last couple standing wins.”
“What do we win if we survive until the end?” She wiggles, forcing me to loosen my hold on her neck.
“Win and you’ll find out.” I check the area and find Delaney and Breaker gone. “Now, do you want to do this one, or should I?”
“Be my guest.” She smirks, too happy to allow me to complete this task.
I hand her my phone and step out into the distance, peeling off my clothes as I go and dropping them at my feet. Last year’s lesson has stuck with me. When it comes to this game, if ditching clothes is required, you’re going to want them close by, just in case.
Unabashed by anything, I turn around, all my glory on display for anyone close enough to see. Palmer stands with the phone in front of her, her eyes locked on my body. For the first time in my life, I feel self-conscious and a little lost under her watch.
“You going to snap the photo, Palmer, or keep staring at me?” Like there’s a direct connection between her mouth and my own, a smile spreads across her face.
The flash goes off, and we both panic, afraid of revealing our position. I hustle to grab my clothes, scrambling to dress while Palmer giggles.
“Shh!” I cover her mouth. Her tongue darts out to lick my palm, forcing me to drop my hand from the surprise of her childish games. “Mature.”
“What, this is so stupid, Marek.” She holds her arms out to her sides and spins. “We’re teenagers, running around the woods playing a game, for what? Bragging rights?”
“Does everything you do need to have a purpose?” I finish buckling