“Move up,” the man called, and Georgie gave me a little nudge. The Doctor Moms received their clue and then were on their way.
Shit.
On stiff legs, I moved forward, then turned to my twin. “Why don’t you go first?”
“Not on your life. I don’t trust you to go at all.”
I gave her a hurt look.
“Don’t start that with me,” she said, unperturbed. She grabbed my shoulders and turned me forward as one of the men began to strap me in. “It’ll be over before you know it. Then we’ll head to the finish line for this leg, okay? After that, you can snuggle with Swift until your heart’s content.”
“Shut up,” I muttered.
The attendants gave a tug on my harness, then motioned with a thumbs up. I was ready to go. “Step forward,” he told me, and gestured at the platform ahead. It was like a wider diving board, except there was no pool on the other side. Just a dam and the ground far, far below. Legs shaking, I moved. I could do this. Just a few steps and then let nature take care of the rest, right?
I moved onto the edge of the platform. There was a nice railing there, and I clung to it, breath heaving.
“Go, Clemmy! You can do this!”
“I’m going to barf.”
“That’s fine,” my twin called back. “Just do it at the bottom or stay upwind.”
“I hate you!” I took another step.
“You love me. And you can do this! You’ve got this!”
I moved out another foot, then another, and stopped.
“Let go of the railing,” the instructor said helpfully. “Move to the edge of the platform.”
I did, and then everything in me froze. The ground was so far below it was like something in miniature. My stomach threatened to heave as the wind buffeted me, whipping my braids and stray pieces of hair. I stared down at the long, long, long fall below.
“Jump,” the instructor encouraged.
I didn’t move.
“You can do it,” Georgie called. “Come on, Clemmy!”
I didn’t budge. I just stared at the impossible span of air below me, blood roaring in my ears.
“Hey,” someone from the Green Machine called in the distance. “How long does she get to stand there before it’s a forfeit?”
“Fuck you,” I bellowed, my fists clenched. My voice echoed on the side of the dam. My hands shook like leaves. Actually, all of me was shaking.
“She has five minutes to jump,” the instructor said. “After that, we must move to the next person in line.”
“It’s cool,” Georgie said. “She can do it.”
“I can’t do it,” I replied, turning to look back at my twin, miserable.
“Yes, you can! Here,” she said, stepping onto the platform.
“You cannot be up there,” the instructor said, frowning.
“I’m just going to give her a little encouragement,” Georgie said. She gave me a happy smile and a thumbs up—
And then the bitch pushed me.
~~ * * * ~~
My arms were still crossed over my chest a half hour later when the car pulled to a halt.
“Oh, stop being a baby,” Georgie said cheerfully. “I just gave you a little help.”
“You pushed me,” I said in a flat, unhappy voice. “I am still totally pissed at you.”
“You won’t be pissed when we cross the finish line. You’ll thank me.”
I snorted. Fat chance of that happening.
My heart was still pounding in my chest from the jump. I thought I’d black out with terror, but somewhere in there, I’d appreciated the fall…
Actually, no I hadn’t. I’d hated every moment of it. But it was over now, and we were headed to the Maggia Valley looking for a place called Casa Martinelli Hotel Garni, which was the stop for this particular leg of the race.
“Oh, I think that’s it,” Georgie said, peering in the distance. “It’s cute.”
Ahead of us was a quaint white building, surrounded by trees and rocky hills. The roof reminded me of something old fashioned, a bit like Gargamel’s hut from the Smurfs cartoon. Greenery hung from a rail balcony, and as we pulled up, I could see the One Percenter team hanging out on the balcony, gazing out at the parking lot.
Below them, out in the grass, Chip Brubaker waited on the mat to welcome each team as they arrived.
“Grab your bags,” Georgie hissed, even as another car pulled up next to us. Damn it! We snagged our things and raced out of the parking lot and toward the mat, barely ahead of Team Houston. Those jerks must have sped like crazy to catch up to us – either that or Jendan and Annabelle got lost.
Someone shoved me, and I slammed to the ground as Team Houston bounded onto the mat a few moments before Georgie. My glasses went flying, and I sat up, peering around. “Um, anyone seen my glasses?”
“Oh no,” Georgie said. “Did you lose them? No one move!”
I patted at the grass near me. It was tall and bushy and bright green. It also looked like a blur. “I’m sure they’re around here somewhere.”
“Here, we’ll help you look,” said the guy from Team Houston, just as I heard an awful crunch. Then a fake “oops.”
Yeah. Ten bucks said that wasn’t an accident at all.
Great, now I was going to be going into the race blind as a bat.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Well, uh, at least they’re not last? And she looks cute without glasses? I just hope she doesn’t have to do any driving in the next leg.” – Swift, Team One Percent, The World Races
I stuck another piece of masking tape on the bridge of my shattered glasses just as Georgie nudged me. “Here come the last two teams.”
I peered at the blurs in the distance. “I can’t see anything.”
“Let me spare you the drama,” my twin said dramatically. “It’s Green Machine and Team Daddy. Guess who’s in the lead?”
I groaned and squeezed the nose piece. “Not Team Daddy, huh?”
“Nope,” she said emphatically, just as Chip Brubaker began his spiel. “Green Team,” he cried out jubilantly. “You are team number seven to arrive!”
I put my busted glasses on my nose and tried to look around me. One side dug into the tender flesh behind my ear and the other side was crooked. One lens was totally busted and the other scratched, and when I squinted at the Green Machine high-fiving each other on the mat, they looked warped. I pulled the glasses back off. “These are useless.”
“Didn’t you bring spares?” Georgie said.
“I don’t have spares!” Heck, most of the time I didn’t even have gas money, much less spare-glasses money. “You forget I’ve been living off of school grants!” Well, that and the money Georgie sent me.
“Mmm,” Georgie said, then got up from her spot in the grass on the edge of the lawn. The other teams were all gathered off to one side so we could see who arrived last. Even now, I could hear sobbing from the finish line and winced. Maybe it was a good thing I couldn’t see two grown men cry as they exited the race. Poor Team Daddy. Georgie dusted off her leggings and then nudged me with her race-issued sneaker. “I’m going to hit the bathrooms before everyone else does. You want to come?”
I shook my head and tried to adjust the tape on my glasses again. “I’ll wait here.”
The uncomfortable sobbing from the finish line continued for a few minutes, and then I put my again-repaired glasses back on, just in time to see the two men of Team Daddy leave with one of the production assistants. The glasses slid again, and I adjusted them, only to have a chunk of lens fall off in my hand.
Just friggin’ great. I ripped them off my face and tried not to cuss.
A big black shape slid into the grass next to me. “Hey, sexy.”
I held my busted glasses up and peered through the bit of lens I had left. “Hey, Swift.”
He laughed and plucked the broken glasses out of my hand. “I like that you had to check to make sure it was me. Lots of guys calling you ‘sexy’ on this rac
e?”
“You’re the only delusional one, I’m afraid,” I said, crabby. “Team Houston totally stomped my glasses.”
He held them up, a man-shaped blur next to me. “Yeah, your glasses are pretty hosed.”
“Thanks for the recap.”
“Georgie can drive, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You guys should be okay then.”
“As long as I don’t have to read a map or anything, right?” I kept my voice sweet.
“Well, one of the lenses isn’t too bad. Maybe you could make yourself a monocle,” he said, and held it up to his face.
Even though I was in a bad mood, I snort-giggled at that and took my glasses back from him. “No monocles.”
“No? You’d be cute with it.”
My face grew hot and I tucked my busted glasses back into a pocket. “I’ll just have to go into things blind for a bit. Maybe we can find some reading glasses at a rest stop and I can use those for maps and signs and stuff.”
“See, problem solved. I’ll even contribute to the Tiny-Needs-Glasses fund if you need cash,” he said. “Plate and I have been careful with our race money.” He took my hand in his and tugged on it. “Now, come on.”
I got to my feet, reluctant, and hitched my backpack over one shoulder. All around us, things were in motion once more. Blurry motion, but still in motion. Cameramen moved past, production assistants scurried back and forth, and the faint smell of hairspray and cologne told me that Chip Brubaker was still somewhere around here. “I should wait here for Georgie.”
“Nah. When I saw her, she was running off to say hi to Plate. It’s rest time anyhow. You’ve got eleven hours to kill before you have to run off to the next stop, and Plate and I grabbed a few rooms. We can get a bite to eat and head upstairs to relax.”
My eyes went wide and I froze. Rooms? Did he say rooms? As in plural? “Are you sure I shouldn’t wait for my twin?” My voice cracked.
“Tiny,” he murmured, and all of a sudden his arm was around my waist, and his big body pressed against mine. “It’s cool, okay? It doesn’t have to be anything except hanging out, I promise. We’ll go as slow as you want to go. We just made sure to get two rooms because we wanted to make sure you guys were parked next to us instead of near the Green Dickheads.” He leaned in and I got a close-up view of his blurry face before his lips lightly brushed against mine. “Come on. I just want to curl up with you and relax for a few hours.”
That sounded pretty darn nice. Still, I hesitated. “You know the Green Machine’s gunning for me and Georgie pretty hard, right? It might be smarter not to ally with us.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck what those two dickbags think,” Swift growled in my ear before stepping away, dragging me along with my hand in his. “They can be assholes all they want, but as long as we’re in first, they can’t do shit.”
“Yeah, but me and Georgie aren’t in first—“
“We’ll protect you,” he said, squeezing my hand as he led me forward. “Don’t worry.”
Ha. Don’t worry. Easy for him to say. I put a hand on the center of his back to guide myself as he led me through the maze of people toward the hotel. I wished I’d gotten a good look at the place, but I couldn’t see more than interesting blurs without my glasses.
Then we went up the stairs, and he led me toward a door. A red and black blur was down the hall, and I lifted my busted glasses to see Georgie’s face plastered to Plate’s, his arms around my twin’s skinny body.
I immediately freaked, bolting down the hall toward them, red in my vision—
Swift grabbed me by the waist and jerked me backward, against him. “Hold up there, Captain America,” he whispered in my ear. “She’s on him, not the other way around.”
My nostrils flared, and I glared at him, then squinted through my busted glasses again. Sure enough, Georgie’s hand moved through Plate’s hair, and as I watched, her leg lifted and curled around his thigh.
Oh. Well now. I pursed my lips and gave Swift a prim look, heat on my cheeks. “I see.”
“Looks like they kissed and made up.”
Looked more like they’d discovered each other’s tonsils, but I didn’t say it aloud.
“Let’s give them some privacy, eh?” His arm squeezed my waist and he headed back toward his room, and then got the door open. And then I went into a hotel room alone with a hot guy.
I’d never done that before. Just thinking about it made me incredibly flustered. I tucked my broken glasses away again so I wouldn’t lose them, and set my backpack down near the doorway.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Swift said, and headed for the restroom. He disappeared inside and I stared at the hotel room. Bed. Nightstand. TV. Phone. There was no place else to sit except the bed. Feeling very much like a prude, I sat gingerly on the corner of the bed and glanced around.
There was something colorful on the corner of the nightstand, so I peeked at it as I heard the taps go in the bathroom. Swift’s passport, and some money from a few other countries. He came out the door again just as I picked up the passport, and I jerked and dropped it immediately. “I wasn’t looking!”
He laughed. “Relax, Tiny. You weren’t stealing money from us, were you?”
I stared at him, shocked. “I would never!”
“I know. I’m just teasing you.” I squinted and just made out a flash of his smile before he came and sat down on the bed next to me. Suddenly, my senses were enveloped with Swift. The scent of his deodorant, the faint musk of sweat, the unique, delicious smell that was his skin. I inhaled, stiffening. Oh God, he was sitting next to me on the bed. What was I supposed to do now?
But he only reached past me and handed me his passport. “You wanted to see this, right?”
“I was just being nosy—“
“It’s cool. Can I see yours, too?”
“O-of course.” I jumped up from the bed, ignoring the passport he held out to me, and retrieved mine from my bag. I held it out to him with a trembling hand, trying my best not to be a virginal ninny.
“Come sit,” Swift said, and I heard the blur of him pat the bed.
Biting my lip, I went to his side again. Before I could sit on the edge of the bed, he grabbed me by the waist and swung me into his lap, parking me on one of his thighs. My face grew scalding hot. Seated like this, his scent enfolded me, along with his warmth. He was a big guy – I guess I never noticed how big until now. Bigger than me, and I was a tall stringbean.
He held his passport out again, and I handed him mine.
After we exchanged, I flipped his open and squinted, then held it away from me, trying to read his name. His picture was a bad one, the look on his face dopey and somewhat surprised. He was much cuter in person. “Um, good picture.”
“Nah, it’s crap,” he said. “I wasn’t paying attention and that was when they took the shot, of course.” He shut mine and tapped it against my arm. “You look cute, though. You could model like your sister.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious,” he said, and his hand squeezed my waist tighter. “You’re beautiful.”
I felt all squirmy and shy at that, and handed him back his passport. “I’m too blind to read your real name.”
He snorted. “It’s terrible. You can just call me Swift.”
“But…I want to know. Really.” I tried to oh-so-casually put an arm on his shoulder.
“It’s…Richard.”
I giggled. “Do people call you Dick?”
“Not if they want to live,” he growled, pulling me against him and flopping back on the bed, carrying me with him. “Any other questions, Miss Nosy?”
I was breathless at being so close to him in the bed, in his arms. Our noses were inches apart, and his breath fanned warm on my face. “Are you really a one percenter?”
“Uh…it’s not important.”
“Um, that’s a weird answer.”
“Seriously. It’s not important.” He moved a bit closer,
until his lips were almost brushing mine.
“What’s the name of your club?” I asked. “Is it Hell’s Angels?”
He snorted. “The club isn’t important either.”
I bit my lip. “Are you an outlaw? I saw an episode of Sons of Anarchy once.”
He groaned. “Can we please not talk about that right now?”
“Okay, fine.” I shrugged, hating that he was being so cagey about the biker thing. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Let’s talk about…why your lips aren’t on mine right now.”
“My lips—“ I stammered a moment before his mouth descended on mine.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Do I want to talk about how I spent my downtime? Uh, no. No comment. Go bother someone else.” – Swift, Team One Percent, The World Races
Holyholyholycow.
I was kissing Swift. Me, Clementine Price, she of the nerdy invertebrate degree in paleontology, she who was utterly invisible to any and all men, was kissing the hottest guy I’d ever seen.
And he’d initiated the kiss. He’d wanted to kiss me.
This…smelled like a set-up.
I pulled away from the kiss and stared at Swift, confused.
He grimaced a little. “Moving too fast? Sorry. I just—“
“Is this a trick?”
“A trick?” He looked truly offended, I’d give him that. “What do you mean, a trick?”
I sat up in the bed, feeling panicked and awkward. “You know. Did someone dare you to date the ugly twin? Is that what this is?”
“Are you insane?” He took my hand in his and pulled me back down on the bed, and my head landed on a pillow with a thump. “You do realize you look just like your sister, right? Seeing that you’re twins and all?”
“She’s thinner than me,” I pointed out. “And I wear glasses, and our hair is different, and she’s outgoing—“
“And she doesn’t have that big, meaty brain of yours. And she doesn’t go on and on about mollusk penises like they’re something to be excited about—“