I know it the second I step out of the car and my head feels like it’s been hit by a ton of bricks. I’m fucking coming down with something.
Penny climbs out of the rental car and starts to walk toward the shack, wiggling her ass in a way that’s half-funny, half-sexy. Charity’s jeans are too long on her, so she has them rolled up at the cuff. They might not be her size, but her ass looks perfect in them. Even with a killer headache, I can’t stop staring.
Then she goes and adjusts herself uncomfortably, reaching into the crack of her ass and pulling out the wedgie. “This underwear is the devil,” she tells me, jumping around like she’s got ants in her pants. “I can’t believe people actually wear these on a regular basis.”
Normally I’d tell her to suck it up, but my throat hurts. I blink and start to follow her in. She eyes me curiously.
“Are you okay? Your eyes look weird.”
I nod and we go inside the sugar shack. A guy in flannel and overalls is there. “Welcome to Maple Run Farm, travelers,” he says to us as he motions outside. “Today you and your partner will be harvesting maple sap from our trees. Maple Run Farm usually has anywhere from twenty to forty thousand taps running at a time in the spring when the snow thaws. However, because it’s autumn, harvesting sap is a little trickier, though not impossible. I’m going to teach you how to tap a tree and harvest sap. You will be given all the tools to do this yourself.”
He hands us a few liter jugs. “You can make up to five taps. All you need to do to win your next envelope is fill one container to the red line.”
Penny nods excitedly, then follows him out the back door into the woods. I trail behind. It’s cold, but the sun feels hot on my face. My vision bends. My throat feels thick.
Fucking hell. This was in the contract. It’s your duty to inform us if you develop any illnesses or conditions during filming so that you may be immediately evaluated by our in-house medical staff. “Immediate evaluation” . . . to me, that means elimination.
And I’m sure as hell not going to be eliminated because of a little cold.
Or . . . whatever this is. Even a big one. Fuck that. I can get by. I will get by.
I kneel on the ground and watch the guy drill a hole in the tree, insert the spout. Or I try to. Penny follows along and does her own, and the man tells her she’s got it, and leaves us alone. “You want to do one?” she asks me, handing me the drill.
“You’re good. I’ll just . . .” I fall back on my ass in a pile of dried leaves. “I just need a minute. Too much fun last night.”
She sucks in a breath. “Luke. We’re dead last. We need to make up time.”
“I know.” I try to get to my feet. After that, everything about the challenge happens in flashes. I haven’t gotten high since I was eighteen, but I feel like I’m in a drug-induced haze. Operating on half a brain, only semiconscious. I help drill the rest of the holes for the taps, but I can’t focus. By then, pain is screaming through my head like someone’s drilling a tap into me. Somehow, we get the sap we need, get the next envelope.
“We’ve got to get to Burlington Airport,” she says to me as she reads. “It says to be prepared for a long flight. I wonder what that means?”
We climb back in the car and make it to the airport in the early afternoon. I’ve come to hate flying in a cramped cabin with a bunch of people, but this time I’m fine with it. I get in my seat and, ignoring Penny’s questions as to whether I’m okay, conk out. I awaken for the layover, buy a bottle of water for me and one for Penny, and nurse it while we wait to board. Feeling like shit. Aware of Penny eyeing me curiously. And once again, I conk out on our second flight.
The next thing I know, Penny’s shaking me. “Luke. You will never believe where we are.”
My blood feels like ice. I hope we’re in some nice, warm paradise where I can lie in the sun