Page 70 of Glamour & Gumballs

It was actually kind of nice.

Unlike Travis, Chris didn’t glare at all. I actually heard him murmur a congrats to Rhett in passing, when Travis wasn’t around.

Kyle tried to lighten the mood with jokes, teasing everyone that Rhett had “outsmarted us”, but it didn’t work.

Travis was too furious.

When the final challenge arrived, my stomach hurt so badly, I worried I might throw up.

Rhett held me to his chest while the boat sped to the island, but it didn’t calm my nerves.

Not when I knew what was at stake.

I took my seat on the bench when we reached the island, and heard Travis grumble, “It’s the same stupid puzzle from the last challenge of last season.”

“I hope they at least replaced Molly with Erin,” Kyle said with a snort.

My forehead creased, and I looked over all of them.

None of the remaining four men were good at puzzles. Kyle was absolute shit with them, and Travis was too. But Rhett and Chris?

They were probably equal. Not great, and not terrible.

Jordan had the men all take their places in front of large platforms. I assumed they would be building the puzzle on those.

When he announced the start of the challenge, the men immediately began.

Kyle started sorting the pieces. Rhett did too.

Travis tried them randomly, his expression growing more frustrated with every one he got wrong.

Chris’s tactic was a mixture of sorting and testing.

“What were they saying about the puzzle?” I whispered to Jordan, knowing he wasn’t allowed to give me much information but would tell me what he could.

“The final puzzle last season formed a large statue of Molly,” Jordan murmured back.

So the guys thought this one was of me.

I wrinkled my nose at the idea of seeing a statue of myself, but the wrinkle vanished when I saw Chris place the first correct piece.

Crap.

Crap, crap, crap.

If Rhett didn’t win, I was fucked. And not in a good way. I had feelings for the bastard. Deep feelings. Feelings I wasn’t anywhere near ready to acknowledge, but feelings that were definitely still there.

I slid to the edge of my bench, praying to whatever the hell was in the sky—if anything was up there—to help Rhett win. I wasn’t much for relying on other people or things, but I literally had no other choice.

“This game is so screwed up,” I told Jordan, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Wouldn’t be quite as bad if you didn’t go getting attached to one of the contestants.”

I smacked him on the arm, and he chuckled, not bothering to pretend it hurt.

Chris got two more pieces.

I started to sweat.

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