My blood boils as Bronx steps forward, taking Joey’s hand in his, and raises it to his mouth, kissing the top of it. Her eyes flutter and her cheeks turn pink. Pink! My hands clench into fists as I maneuver myself to stand in between them. I puff my chest out and square my shoulders causing Bronx to back-up. His hands are up as if he’s trying to back down from a fight. This isn’t some audition for a street gang movie, but real life … the reality television version of it anyway.
“I’d love to.”
“You’re busy,” I spit out.
“I am?” she questions me as her hands land on hips in defiance.
“Somehow I think she’ll be free.” He winks as he walks toward his station.
“What the hell is going on?” she asks as if she doesn’t already know.
“Couples, to your stations.”
I don’t have a chance to say anything because she walks away. Bronx is watching and laughing. I have a feeling he knows why he was sent here, and he’s succeeded in a matter of seconds. Everything we’ve been building on is crumbling faster than the Berlin Wall and there isn’t jack shit I can do about it right now. We have to win this competition so we can hash everything out in private. And while we’re arguing and hopefully making up, Joey and I will need to discuss boundaries later. I know she doesn’t like Amanda and I’ve respected that. She’ll need to do the same when it comes to Bronx. At least I hope she will.
With my luck, she won’t. I’ve already told her we’re done at the end of the show so why should she respect my feelings? She shouldn’t, and I don’t really have the right to ask her either. I’ve been sentenced to thirty days in purgatory all because I’m a dumb ass. Telling her that I don’t want to be done now will only look like a desperate ploy on my part. Thank you very much, Married Blind, for screwing up my plan.
Bronx and Rebekah laugh, as they stand ready at their red hippo—the hippo color I wanted—but not before he turns and winks. Is he winking at Joey or me? I can’t be sure, but either way that gesture is enough to piss me off even more.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
In this moment I want Joey to take ahold of my shirt in her fist and yank me to her. I want to hear her tell me I have nothing to worry about. I want to feel her lips press against mine in a gesture meant for only us. But she doesn’t. Joey stands in front of me matching my posture with an angry scowl on her face. I know I’m in the wrong, but refuse to admit it.
“I told you I don’t like pink.”
“Since when?”
I shrug and look away, acting like a disinterested child.
“Unbelievable,” she mutters as she turns away from me.
I have feeling that any progress we’ve made these past few weeks is now swirling down the toilet and it’s not even Bronx’s fault. He’s the just catalyst for my self-destruction.
“Listen,” I say when I come to stand behind her. I press my body into hers and she goes rigid. “Joey?” I try to sweeten my voice, to show her the desire I feel when I’m near her, but she doesn’t budge. “Let’s win this one, okay?”
Joey doesn’t respond. She just stands there waiting for our instructions even though the game looks fairly self-explanatory.
“Now that everyone has met each other, let’s begin.” Patrick’s voice over the loud speaker annoys me, but I can’t let that show on my face. It’s game time and even if Joey doesn’t want to win this one, I do.
As soon as everyone is at their colored hippo, Patrick continues. “Welcome to the live action version of Hungry Hungry Hippos. One of you will lie flat on the skateboard and hold out your bucket while the other pushes you by your ankles. The object is to collect as many matching balls as you can before the bu
zzer. If your hand touches the ground, you’re disqualified.
“Newlyweds, take your positions.”
“Do you want to be on the bottom?” I wiggle my eyebrows at her and am instantly rewarded with a smile, even if she does shake her head. I’m just relieved to see that smile.
“You have no idea,” she mumbles as she gets down on her knees and climbs onto the skateboard. Seeing her like that, on her knees, makes me wish we were somewhere else, and unless we win the master suite the only place we can be alone will be in the shower. Everything we’ve done has been in the shower, minus the one time in bed that is completely foggy as hell. My no sex rule was really, really stupid, but it was a necessary evil.
“You’re going to have to lean when I say right or left,” I instruct as Joey gets situated on the board.
“I know, Josh.” Her voice is stern, telling me that she’s annoyed with me. It’s funny how you learn so much about someone in such a little amount of time. Joey bends her legs up so I can hold onto her ankles. I grab them firmly and give her a slight push.
The timer starts ticking down; giving us fair warning that the game is about to start. I look over at Gary and find him staring at Rebekah. When we’re done, I need to ask him what the deal is between them because they definitely have history. When I glance at Bronx, he’s staring at Joey, fueling my anger toward him and this situation.
The buzzer sounds and I hesitate briefly before lurching us forward. Joey works the game like a champ, leaning in the direction she needs me to go. We bump and collide with others as she tries to capture all the pink balls that she can, and as much as I want to look and see how the others are doing, I can’t. My focus has to remain on Joey.
At the sound of the horn, I drop her legs and fall to my knees. I didn’t think it would be exhausting, holding her ankles like that, but it was. I crawl over and sit next to her, waiting while she counts how many pink balls we were able to capture.