Partner Games
Page 15
His defeated words made my heart clench. I reached out and gripped his hands with mine, noticing for the first time that his knuckles were tattooed with the words LIVE on one side and FREE on the other. “You’re not done. I promise I’m going to fix this. Someone’s going to miss a flight and then you’ll be back in this. You just watch.”
Swift gave me a crooked grin. “It’s a nice thought but you can’t control anyone else’s race or what planes they catch.”
“Have a little faith in me.” I tilted my chin up. “I can make things happen with the right motivation.”
“All right, then,” he said, straightening. His gaze flicked to my mouth again. “You fix it for me and the next time, I’ll do more than just give you a few pecks on the mouth.”
My face turned bright red. I could feel the heat of it scorching my cheeks. “I—I’m not doing this because I want your dick,” I said primly.
This time Swift was the one that turned red. “That wasn’t what I meant. I meant like, we could help each other out. Get some relief.” At my shocked look, he shook his head. “Not like that! Not help each other out like, masturbation wise, but like, together. Not together, but like teams—“
I gestured at the door. “You know what? I’m going to go.”
“Yeah,” he said, and rubbed a hand on his head. “That’s probably a good idea.”
I stood and then reached out and impulsively squeezed his shoulder. “See you at the next stop.”
“Yep.” He didn’t sound convinced, though. “You’re twenty minutes ahead of the others. Use it well.”
~~ * * * ~~
Less than an hour later, the production assistant pointed at us, and a camera hovered inches from my face as Georgie and I read our next clue. “Head to the ‘Premier Fliers Travel Agency’ and book a flight to Oslo, Norway.” In smaller print at the bottom of the clue, I read on. “Inside this envelope, you will have one hundred dollars for travel expenses and food. Please note that this leg of the trip involves several layovers. Once your flight is booked, you cannot change it.”
“There’s an envelope at the bottom of the disk,” Georgie said, and pulled it open. “Money.”
“Okay,” I said, handing her the money and tucking the disk under my arm. “We need to get a taxi and head to the travel agency.”
“Let’s do this,” Georgie said, pumping a fist with determination. “Operation: Save Cute Boys is underway.”
I looked over at my twin as we ran out toward the road. “Cute…boys?”
“What, you don’t think Plate’s cute?”
I thought of the big goliath. He had a wide, plain face but a big, easy grin that made everyone instantly comfortable. He also totally didn’t seem like Georgie’s type, either. She usually dated male models, who looked waifish and gothic, not corn-fed and easygoing. “I guess? Just…hands off Swift.”
“Oh, I’m not touching him. He’s all yours and you’ve got the beard burns on your cheeks to prove it,” my twin teased.
My hands flew to my cheeks. “Shut up. I do not!”
“You don’t,” she admitted as we jogged down the sidewalk. “But the fact that you checked tells me everything.”
“You suck.”
My twin just smirked.
A half hour later, we arrived at the travel agency. It was a small, hole in the wall place. Posters of exotic places covered the walls, along with a rack of brochures for local touristy spots. There were two desks in the place, both occupied by old boxy monitors. A man a few years older than us (and about a foot shorter) sat at a desk and stood when we entered.
“Georgie Price,” he breathed, eyes wide. “¡Cielos!” His gaze went to me and got even wider. “And a sister.” He sat down in his chair, weak.
Georgie giggled, apparently used to this sort of thing. “Hi there.”
“We’re racing in The World Races,” I said, acutely aware of time slipping away. “And we need to book tickets to Oslo.”
“Of course, of course.” He gestured at the chairs in front of his desk, and then raced around the side to pull them out for us. “Please, please come sit, ladies! You are very beautiful! Both of you!”
“You’re sweet,” Georgie said.
“Please, anything I can do for you,” the man said, a reverent look in his eyes. He reached into his desk and pulled out a rather well-paged copy of Sports Illustrated. My twin, naturally, was on the cover in a bikini smaller than anything I owned. “I am the biggest fan,” he said. “My friends will never believe this.”
“Do you have a camera?” Georgie offered. “I’d be happy to take a picture with you.”
A look of joy crossed his face. “My phone!”
An idea occurred to me and I put a hand on Georgie’s arm. “Sir, what’s your name?”
“Sergio,” he said, fumbling to pull out his phone with shaking fingers. Behind us, our ever-present cameraman zoomed in.
“Sergio. That’s an awesome name,” Georgie chirped, and I thought Sergio was going to blow a load in his pants right then and there.
“Sergio, we need help,” I said, making my voice as sweet and persuasive as my twin’s. “There are nine teams that are going to show up, and one is behind all the others, and we don’t think that’s fair. We need to help them catch up.”
Georgie clasped her hands under her chin and bounced in her chair. “Please, please Sergio, help us? We’ll take all the pictures you want if you can.”
“For Georgie Price? I will do anything,” Sergio said reverently. “Anything.”
We clapped our hands in twin expressions of delight. “You are the best, Sergio,” I said, slathering it on thick.
“The best,” Georgie echoed, beaming at him.
Ten minutes later, the perfect tickets had been found. To get to Oslo from Guatemala, we were going to need to take a chain of flights. From Flores to Guatemala City, from Guatemala City to Mexico City, then from Mexico City on a red-eye flight to Heathrow in London, and then from there, we’d fly on to Oslo. It was going to be a long day of travel and several layovers.
“I can’t delay you much on the first two legs,” Sergio offered. “But for the flight from Mexico City to Heathrow, I can let the other teams know that the other flights are booked except for the one you are on.”
“And it’s the one that arrives the latest?” I asked. “We need to make sure that the black team is going to be on it, and they’re twelve hours behind everyone else.”
“They gave up their spots for us,” Georgie said dramatically. “Isn’t that so sweet?”
“They are like me,” Sergio declared. “They would do anything for Georgie Price and her lovely sister!”
I wasn’t so sure about that but I beamed at him. “If you can do that for us, we’d be so utterly grateful.”
“Super grateful,” Georgie agreed.
“Anything,” Sergio said in a glazed voice.
“Pictures?” Georgie asked.
“Yes!” Sergio fumbled with his phone and held it aloft. “Let us take pictures!”
Swift gave me a crooked grin. “It’s a nice thought but you can’t control anyone else’s race or what planes they catch.”
“Have a little faith in me.” I tilted my chin up. “I can make things happen with the right motivation.”
“All right, then,” he said, straightening. His gaze flicked to my mouth again. “You fix it for me and the next time, I’ll do more than just give you a few pecks on the mouth.”
My face turned bright red. I could feel the heat of it scorching my cheeks. “I—I’m not doing this because I want your dick,” I said primly.
This time Swift was the one that turned red. “That wasn’t what I meant. I meant like, we could help each other out. Get some relief.” At my shocked look, he shook his head. “Not like that! Not help each other out like, masturbation wise, but like, together. Not together, but like teams—“
I gestured at the door. “You know what? I’m going to go.”
“Yeah,” he said, and rubbed a hand on his head. “That’s probably a good idea.”
I stood and then reached out and impulsively squeezed his shoulder. “See you at the next stop.”
“Yep.” He didn’t sound convinced, though. “You’re twenty minutes ahead of the others. Use it well.”
~~ * * * ~~
Less than an hour later, the production assistant pointed at us, and a camera hovered inches from my face as Georgie and I read our next clue. “Head to the ‘Premier Fliers Travel Agency’ and book a flight to Oslo, Norway.” In smaller print at the bottom of the clue, I read on. “Inside this envelope, you will have one hundred dollars for travel expenses and food. Please note that this leg of the trip involves several layovers. Once your flight is booked, you cannot change it.”
“There’s an envelope at the bottom of the disk,” Georgie said, and pulled it open. “Money.”
“Okay,” I said, handing her the money and tucking the disk under my arm. “We need to get a taxi and head to the travel agency.”
“Let’s do this,” Georgie said, pumping a fist with determination. “Operation: Save Cute Boys is underway.”
I looked over at my twin as we ran out toward the road. “Cute…boys?”
“What, you don’t think Plate’s cute?”
I thought of the big goliath. He had a wide, plain face but a big, easy grin that made everyone instantly comfortable. He also totally didn’t seem like Georgie’s type, either. She usually dated male models, who looked waifish and gothic, not corn-fed and easygoing. “I guess? Just…hands off Swift.”
“Oh, I’m not touching him. He’s all yours and you’ve got the beard burns on your cheeks to prove it,” my twin teased.
My hands flew to my cheeks. “Shut up. I do not!”
“You don’t,” she admitted as we jogged down the sidewalk. “But the fact that you checked tells me everything.”
“You suck.”
My twin just smirked.
A half hour later, we arrived at the travel agency. It was a small, hole in the wall place. Posters of exotic places covered the walls, along with a rack of brochures for local touristy spots. There were two desks in the place, both occupied by old boxy monitors. A man a few years older than us (and about a foot shorter) sat at a desk and stood when we entered.
“Georgie Price,” he breathed, eyes wide. “¡Cielos!” His gaze went to me and got even wider. “And a sister.” He sat down in his chair, weak.
Georgie giggled, apparently used to this sort of thing. “Hi there.”
“We’re racing in The World Races,” I said, acutely aware of time slipping away. “And we need to book tickets to Oslo.”
“Of course, of course.” He gestured at the chairs in front of his desk, and then raced around the side to pull them out for us. “Please, please come sit, ladies! You are very beautiful! Both of you!”
“You’re sweet,” Georgie said.
“Please, anything I can do for you,” the man said, a reverent look in his eyes. He reached into his desk and pulled out a rather well-paged copy of Sports Illustrated. My twin, naturally, was on the cover in a bikini smaller than anything I owned. “I am the biggest fan,” he said. “My friends will never believe this.”
“Do you have a camera?” Georgie offered. “I’d be happy to take a picture with you.”
A look of joy crossed his face. “My phone!”
An idea occurred to me and I put a hand on Georgie’s arm. “Sir, what’s your name?”
“Sergio,” he said, fumbling to pull out his phone with shaking fingers. Behind us, our ever-present cameraman zoomed in.
“Sergio. That’s an awesome name,” Georgie chirped, and I thought Sergio was going to blow a load in his pants right then and there.
“Sergio, we need help,” I said, making my voice as sweet and persuasive as my twin’s. “There are nine teams that are going to show up, and one is behind all the others, and we don’t think that’s fair. We need to help them catch up.”
Georgie clasped her hands under her chin and bounced in her chair. “Please, please Sergio, help us? We’ll take all the pictures you want if you can.”
“For Georgie Price? I will do anything,” Sergio said reverently. “Anything.”
We clapped our hands in twin expressions of delight. “You are the best, Sergio,” I said, slathering it on thick.
“The best,” Georgie echoed, beaming at him.
Ten minutes later, the perfect tickets had been found. To get to Oslo from Guatemala, we were going to need to take a chain of flights. From Flores to Guatemala City, from Guatemala City to Mexico City, then from Mexico City on a red-eye flight to Heathrow in London, and then from there, we’d fly on to Oslo. It was going to be a long day of travel and several layovers.
“I can’t delay you much on the first two legs,” Sergio offered. “But for the flight from Mexico City to Heathrow, I can let the other teams know that the other flights are booked except for the one you are on.”
“And it’s the one that arrives the latest?” I asked. “We need to make sure that the black team is going to be on it, and they’re twelve hours behind everyone else.”
“They gave up their spots for us,” Georgie said dramatically. “Isn’t that so sweet?”
“They are like me,” Sergio declared. “They would do anything for Georgie Price and her lovely sister!”
I wasn’t so sure about that but I beamed at him. “If you can do that for us, we’d be so utterly grateful.”
“Super grateful,” Georgie agreed.
“Anything,” Sergio said in a glazed voice.
“Pictures?” Georgie asked.
“Yes!” Sergio fumbled with his phone and held it aloft. “Let us take pictures!”
