Page 13 of The Amazing Date

Gabby never gave up. She was in the trenches with me every step of the way, constantly reminding me I’ve promised to sketch her in the gardens of Puerto Rico once again.

Her faith in me got me over that mountain. For the last year, I’ve been pain-free, and I’ve begun to sketch again, starting with simple landscapes and stationary objects.

However, my confidence hasn’t returned. Drawing used to be my escape, my passion. Now whenever I lift a pencil, it is a reminder of the life I’ve lost. The struggles I’ve yet to overcome. Will I ever be as good as I was before? What if I’m not—what next? Questions I’m not sure I can handle the answer to. The reason why I’ve avoided drawing people, the desire not there, my heart afraid, the passion that is required to draw such an intimate piece lacking.

“Well, if you’re ever in New York…” Juanita says. The mention of New York, Rylee’s hometown, flicks a switch in me.

“I’ll stop you right there. I’m never going to New York.” I bite the words out, shocking myself.

Juanita lowers the iPad, her dark eyes imploring me to explain. “Something bad happen to you in New York?”

I shake my head. It’s difficult enough imagining spending the next few days with Rylee. She’s the reason I can’t sketch. I can’t ever imagine being in the same city as her. Neither one of us would be able to survive the whirlwind of emotions that envelop us whenever we are within a thousand miles of each other. It would be a disaster.

Juanita’s sympathetic stare does little to push down the anger bubbling up in my chest.

I grit out, “I’ve never been to New York. But if I ever go, I’m almost positive something bad will happen.”

Chapter 9

Rylee

Gabby waves to me behind the police barricade at the end of the bridge, and I shift into race mode. My head swirls with my research as I assess the teams lined up next to us. Beside team blondie and the rock twins, two other teams line up.

Immediately next to us is a black couple who might be older than my parents. I dismiss them immediately and focus on the other couple. The young couple appears to only have eyes for each other, which explains why I don’t recall seeing them at the dinner. They look to be about thirty. The tall white man with dark hair runs a finger through the curls of his brunette partner. I spot a ring on her finger but not his and assume they are engaged. She’s gazing into his eyes, soft whispers of love floating in the air. I doubt this lovesick couple will even hear the start of the race. They are no longer a concern of mine.

I’m not dismissive normally; I’m just interpreting the fifteen years of statistics. An engaged couple barely stands a chance in this type of competition. Their empathy for the other’s comfort at some point prevents them from making a difficult choice and placing their partner in a painful situation. I know Roberto won’t have that problem.

I revise my assessment of our competition. The rock boys appear to be the odds-on favorites. The combination of their physical strength and Adam’s smarts will make them a tough team. As much as I hate to admit it, that puts the blondes up next. Their tenacity, physical fitness, preparation, and willingness to squeeze out every advantage make them a team to watch.

After that, it’s anybody’s game. The engaged couple could surprise me, but I doubt it. The old couple could be former Olympic athletes—who knows. I’m not sure where we fit. Roberto is the great unknown. He appears to be in great physical shape, a fact my eyes continue to appreciate. Four years ago, I joked that I’d cancel my Pornhub subscription if he’d walk around without a T-shirt for me. Since then, he’s added muscles in all the right places, and it hurts not to be able to scrape my fingernails down the center of his chest.

We are unproven as a team, and he’s ill prepared for the challenges coming our way. Oh, and there is that little issue of him hating my guts and barely talking to me.

Gabby and I brainstormed last night, and I picked her brains on all things Roberto. I’ve known him for four years, yet there is so much I don’t know about him and his life. At the end of the day, she told me to just relax and trust him. He’s never let her down in her entire life.

I have no point of reference to that statement. My life is filled with people disappointing me and not a single soul showing blind faith in my abilities. Every step of the way, I’ve had to fight and prove myself.

I crouch down at the start line, and Roberto extends a hand toward me, palm facing up. I raise a brow and smack his hand in a low five. He shakes his head and sticks his hand out once once again to guide me by my wrist. He shakes it, making me go limp, my fingers dangling above his palm. “Wiggle your fingers like you’re scraping something.”

I follow his strange directions just for whatever this is to be over and get back to concentrating on the race.

“What was that?”

He lowers his hands to the ground, runner’s lunge. “I have no idea, but it’s silly, and it got you to smile. Your game face was scaring me.”

I lower my hands to the ground, matching his move.

Wilma stands to the side of the starting line, megaphone in hand. “Today we kick off season thirty of the It Takes Two competition. When I shout go, you will race down the length of the bridge to the five puzzle tables. There you will have to work together to complete a slide puzzle. Once you have completed it to the judge’s satisfaction, you may race back to the start line to your backpacks to find the first clue with your travel destination for this round. Parked on the other side of the barricades are five vehicles, which you will take to begin your race. First team to check in at the final stop on the challenge today will receive a special reward and a huge advantage at the start of day two.”

I shoot a glance toward Roberto, and he contorts his face into a grimace, and I realize my game face must’ve returned.

Wilma provides the final instructions, words Gabby and I have recited to one another at the end of each of our calls since we were accepted into the race. “Travel safe, have fun, and take care of one another. On your mark. Get set…”

I sneak another glance at Roberto and stick out my tongue like a two-year-old. His lip ticks up into a smile, and he blows me a kiss.

“And go.”

His kiss distracts me, and I trip at the start. He stops, reaching back to help me up. “No! Just go!” I bark harsher than I mean. Almost all the teams race ahead of us. The bridge is a third of a mile long, and I’m not concerned. I’ve trained for this. It doesn’t take long for me to close and pass two of the teams. I fall in stride two steps behind Roberto, our steps in perfect synchronism, as if we’ve run together a hundred times before. However, I sense Roberto is cruising, letting me set the pace. I need to show him not to hold back for me.

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