Page 63 of PR Stunt

I barely hesitate before stepping onto the beam, planting my foot carefully. Each step is measured and controlled. Someone behind me lets out a sharp yelp, and a loud splash follows. I don’t look, but the crowd’s reaction tells me someone just lost their balance.

I tune it out, keeping my focus ahead. My core tightens as I shift my weight to exactly where it needs to be. The other side is close now. Just a few more steps.

When I reach solid ground, I glance back, and Grayson is already halfway across. His arms don’t even flail for balance like some of the others. Impressively skilled. I cross my arms, waiting for him at the finish.

I paste on a bright smile, mindful of the cameras trailing us. “Are you even breaking a sweat?”

Grayson steps off the beam, clearly having fun, and turns toward me with an easy grin. “Should I pretend to struggle? For morale?”

I let out a breathy laugh, making sure it sounds playful, like we’re just two teammates, two partners, sharing a joke. A moment that plays well in a highlight reel. I reach out, brushing a piece of hair out of his face—for the cameras, of course—before nudging him toward the next obstacle.

“C’mon, superstar,” he says encouragingly, tipping his chin ahead, voice just loud enough for the mic to catch. “One more to go.”

I flash him a look that I know will read as playful. “Try to keep up.”

We take off running.

The last obstacle looms ahead. Monkey bars stretching over a thick pit of, you guessed it, more mud. Savannah and Kole are just ahead, gripping the bars, their movements steady. Ava and Liam fell behind. We’re close, almost in first place, but if we don’t clear this quickly, they’ll take the lead into the final sprint. I grab the first bar, swinging forward. My arms burn as exhaustion creeps in, but I push through.

Grayson moves beside me, his rhythm staying steady. “You good?” he asks, barely winded.

“I’m fine,” I grit out, adjusting my grip. My breath comes faster, but I keep moving.

Then Savannah slips.

She lets out a sharp yelp, fingers missing the next bar. She crashes into the mud below, sending waves of grimy water flying. Kole hesitates, glancing down at her. The split-second distraction is all I need to pull ahead—

Only for my grip to betray me.

My stomach lurches as my grip fails, and suddenly I’m falling. The impact is instant. Cold, thick mud swallows me whole. For the second time. A collective gasp ripples through the crowd, followed by a chorus of laughter and cheers.

Above me, I hear a sharp whoop from Juno and Luca.

“Ohhh,” Juno calls dramatically, “and there she goes!”

I push up, furious, mud dripping from my face as I glare at the bars above.

Grayson hasn’t stopped. He’s already halfway across, focused, fast, gaining ground on Kole, who’s still distracted by Savannah wiping mud from her eyes.

Above me, Grayson glances down mid-swing, not because he’s tired or struggling, but because he’s clearly having a moment, trying far too hard not to laugh. His lips press together, shoulders shaking just enough to betray him—like the effort of holding it in is physically painful. I swear, if looks could kill… I send him daggers from below, mud dripping from my hair, my pride in shambles, as I stomp through the pit toward the restart platform.

Grayson clears his throat, still hanging there like gravity doesn’t apply to him, before finally swinging forward again. “Hey, at least the mud broke your fall.”

Biting back the words I want to throw at him, I turn back to the beginning. Kole finally starts moving again, regaining his rhythm. Grayson is one bar behind him now. I don’t hesitate as I grab the first bar again, my grip slick with mud, neck and neck with Savannah. My muscles scream, and exhaustion claws at me, but I push through it. I am not losing this.

Swing. Grip. Hold.

Ahead of us, Kole lands on the other side first, turning back to cheer on Savannah. “Come on, babe!”

Grayson lands beside him seconds later. He glances at me, and I know exactly what he’s thinking. His expression shifts, subtle, but I catch it. He remembers the one time I called him babe after the hike. I narrow my eyes at him mid-swing. Don’t.

Just as I reach for the next bar, Savannah’s grip falters. Her fingers slip, and she plunges into the muddy water below with another loud splash. Kole winces.

“That’s my girl. You got this!” Grayson shouts.

I grit my teeth and push harder, arms shaking, every bar feeling miles apart.

At last, I reach the final one. I swing my legs forward, gathering momentum, and land solidly on the other side. We’re still in it.