Chapter 20: Leith

Leith had a pressingquestion that he didn't think anyone on this earth could answer: what the hell were you supposed to do when you were for-real attracted to your for-pretend girlfriend? Not that they'd actually brought up the ‘big BG' in conversation but wasn't that what exclusive meant?

Shit, was he meant to ask Willow to be his girlfriend?

Carter might like it, if he made a big show of asking. Kinda like a proposal, but palatable for an audience that knew they'd only met a few weeks ago. He could ask Carter but he had a feeling he'd get an answer along the lines of as long as you don't do it in the shower.

Regardless of whether they used the titles or not, Leith wasn't exactly sure where he was supposed to stand with his feelings. At the start, his intention had been to get to know her so they could compete more easily in the challenges. He hadn't exactly anticipated that getting to know her would mean finding himself enamored with her.

Sure, he'd always found her attractive. That felt like a given with someone who looked like Willow. But she was also noble and funny and driven and so brilliant it sometimes hurt him. He might be tempted to say that she was crafted perfectly for him if she wouldn't have been all those things and more had he never existed.

Logically, he knew that his developing feelings for her didn't ultimately matter. She was here with an end-game goal that she'd be going after with or without him. She wasn't on this show to find a match.

Which, he guessed, neither was he, really. But it'd been in the back of his mind, hadn't it? To try to couple with someone he could actually walk out of here with, prize money in tow? Plans had changed pretty drastically but they hadn't fully erased his vision.

He should just take this budding relationship for what it was—a facade—and go forward. He could always track down another once-in-a-lifetime connection, couldn't he?

No. No, he certainly couldn't.

What hope did he have of finding a woman who made him feel even a fraction of what he'd begun to feel around Willow? This could very well be a situation of not seeing the forest for the trees or whatever the hell that meant but Leith's happily-ever-after was starting to feel a little bit hopeless.

He'd lost his shot at the money to finally get him out from under his parent's thumb. Still, the utter financial control the fuckers had over him wasn't shit compared to Willow's situation. He was happy to give up his shot for her to have what she needed. It didn't mean he had to be happy about returning to South Carolina without a girlfriend or a plan, though.

"What's got you so mopey?" Willow asked, flitting over to him from where she'd been lain out on the sunbeds with some of the other girls.

He blinked up at her and took in the way her golden bikini sat against the tan of her skin. His chest ached, realizing how beautiful she'd look under the Carolina sun and knowing she'd never have a reason to experience it. But then he took in her face and ached for a different reason. Was she asking about his mood because it reflected poorly on them? Or was she asking about it because she truly cared what might be bothering him?

God, he hated this. The way he had to second-guess everything between them. How he had to be on all the time, looking for clues of how to act in every little thing Willow did. It almost felt like home, in a sick way. Always too quiet and too careful around his parents. Always trying to serve them exactly what they wanted out of him so they never had a reason to lash out.

Had his entire existence been reduced to pandering?

"Thinking about home," he grunted and it wasn't a total lie.

She sat on the edge of the pool, this time with her feet in the water, on either side of him, instead of stretched out beside it. Had she done that on purpose, spread herself right in front of his face, where he could see how she tried to break free from the fabric of her bathing suit? Or had she done it just to give him a bit of privacy? A safe place to hide his head between her thighs?

"You miss it?"

Leith hadn't really wanted to get into his home life on camera but he couldn't stop himself from scoffing at her question. Trying to save face, he said, "Not sure I'd give up paradise for manual labor."

Willow leaned forward and pushed Leith a little further into the pool. She dropped her mic pac where she'd been sitting and slipped in after him, guiding him closer to the center. It wasn't as private as the shower—the cameras camped out around the backyard would still pick up some grainy audio—but it was as much privacy as she could give him without looking suspicious.

When she got to the middle, Willow slung her arms around Leith's neck and leapt until she could settle her legs around his waist. To anyone watching, they'd look like a couple whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears, stealing away to someplace where they could touch each other freely. Leith hooked his arms around her waist because he wasn't the type to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Alright, tell me the truth," she commanded quietly. "What's going on?"

Leith realized he'd never actually bothered to tell her why he'd wanted the money in the first place. It had felt silly, when she'd presented her own reasoning. And he still didn't feel right about it now, either. From their conversations over the past week, Leith knew Willow would be the type of person to try to help. This wasn't her responsibility, and it never should be, but he knew that she was also the type of person who could see through bullshit like it was a superpower.

"Just…dreading going home," he hedged.

"Why?"

She began playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. It was the shivers running down his back that pulled her closer to him, not his brain.

"I don't like it there."

This time, his answer was mostly honest. There was a lot about his home state that he did like, well enough. And wasn't it incredible that one's experiences could poison a whole portion of a country? Maybe it was a little like alcohol. Sure, he'd enjoyed tequila once upon a time. But the first night he'd spent puking his guts up because of it, suddenly he couldn't even look at the stuff.

Willow carded one of her hands up further into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, when she again asked, "Why?" Fuck, he couldn't think when she did that. He thought maybe she took his inability to answer as reluctance so she went on. "I feel like I've told you everything about me and I still know so little about you. Tell me about your home." She leaned down, notching her lips right next to his ear. "Tell me why you wanted the money."

And there it was. That reminder that she wasn't doing this so she could truly know him. She was doing this so she would know how to go about things at the end. The little adjustments she kept making to remain wrapped around him were giving him the mother of all mixed signals, though.

Fuck it, he decided. I don't want to play anymore.

What was the point in trying to match her, con for con, if it was going to screw up his brain so badly? He might as well just lay it all out and feel good, knowing that he hadn't confused her as much as she was confusing him, unintentional as it may be.

"I want to get out of the family business."

"You don't like carpentry anymore?"

He shook his head, "No, I love it. Ideally, I'd be able to start my own company, without my parents involved. But I—uh—I would need funds to do it."

Willow stiffened against him, a half-blessing for his stiffening cock. Carefully, she leaned back so she could watch his face. "Are your parents not good business owners?"

"Sure, that's one way to put it."

"I could take a look at your books, if you wanted, when we get out of here?" she offered. "I know it might not mean much but I've been doing it for my sister for a while now. I could probably?—"

"That's sweet, Willow," he interrupted. "Really, it is. But that's not really the kind of help they need. Don't get me wrong, their books are probably a mess, but they'd probably have to have personality transplants to even approach the realm of good business practice." Leith forced out a laugh. "I was almost scared to come on the show, knowing that people could easily find the shady shit they've been doing."

He hated the fear in Willow's eyes when he admitted it. Hated that he knew exactly what she was thinking—that being with him might ruin this for her. He just didn't have any assurances to give her.

"Didn't feel like I had another choice," he added, though he wasn't sure for whose benefit.

That fear dissipated almost immediately. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I barely have enough money to live on my own, let alone to start another business. Those assholes pretty much have a monopoly in town so it's not like I could go work for someone else. And god forbid they let me save up enough to move away."

Leith was grateful they were in the pool, that the water could cool him down. He felt himself growing red and hot, like he always did when his parents were brought up.

"They have access to your bank account?"

He shook his head. "No, thank fuck. But they find plenty of reasons to deduct from my paycheck."

Willow frowned and tried to slide down from around him, a few inches. But those inches put her right over his crotch so he cupped the tops of her thighs and hefted her back up.

Face to face again, she said, "That's abuse, Leith."

"Yeah," he swallowed. "Probably."

Willow brought a hand around to cup his jaw. "I don't want you to go back home, either."

Of course she didn't. Because that wasn't who Willow was, to try to talk him into thinking it might all be fine. She wasn't going to placate him so she could still feel good about taking the money. And now she was going to feel responsible for him, too. He was just going to be another on her list to distribute to.

"Don't worry about it. I still want you to…" he trailed off, remembering the cameras. "This doesn't change anything. I'll figure it out when I leave."

"I should have asked. Before, when we—I should have asked."

He squeezed her thighs, getting dangerously close to her ass. "I don't need to be another person you take care of, Willow."

She gripped his jaw even harder, bringing her other hand around to mimic the act on the opposite side. Her torso pressed entirely against him, her back arched, and her thighs were practically squeezing the life out of him.

Her voice was as harsh as her touch when she asked, "Who takes care of you, then?"

A valid question. It sure as shit wasn't his parents. And they kept him busy enough to isolate him from friends. The only reason he'd been able to convince them to allow him the time off for the show was that they were deluded into thinking the prize money would go right to them. He was glad it would go to Willow, not just for her niece but because his parents would have no way to get their claws into it.

"I do," he finally said.

Her hips turned and she brought her face closer. "My turn."

How did he tell her that he didn't really need it? That he refused to be something she could come to resent? And how, when she was rolling against him, was he supposed to think of any of that?

Her movements sent all the thoughts in his head to the other side of the world and all that was in front of him was Willow. Experimentally, he raised his hands so they rested on her ass, not her thighs, and fisted each cheek.

It wasn't for the camera—they were under water. But she didn't stop him. Nor did she stop him when he encouraged the motion of her hips, guiding the rhythm.

Perhaps it was just a convenient tool for him to fool himself but Leith grew convinced with every undulation that Willow would not let things go this far, at least not physically, if all she felt for him was a part of the ruse. She would not allow him to touch her like he was, wouldn't return that fired-up look, if she were only pretending.

Right?

The tightness with which she held him made him think that, maybe, her mouth would come slamming down upon his. She only waited, though, as he watched her, his own gaze bobbing up and down as she bounced on him. Just slightly. Just the suggestion of the gyration she was doing below.

Someone whistled from across the backyard and Leith ignored it.

Still, she waited.

So he kissed her. Outside of a challenge. Where they were watched, sure, but not listened to. He leaned into her touch and gave her the sensation of pulling his face to hers when he claimed her mouth. It was how he remembered it, with the blindfold on, but it wasn't, too.

She tasted just like she had before, like she'd captured the sunshine in her skin and fed it to him now. She smelled the same, too. Like sunscreen and chlorine and a little bit of sweat. Like a summer day, with maybe a hint of some kind of flower. Leith didn't know his flowers but he'd sniff every one in the world to find which one was hiding on her skin.

It was the same but it wasn't.

Because this time, no one was forcing them together.

This time, she kissed him because she wanted to.