Neither of them were in much of a position of power in their team, so when they chased after Leshawna and Duncan, he knew they wouldn't listen. Heather didn't even try, and he argued with no success. Looks like they and DJ would have to do the heavy lifting for the next challenge. Harold was used to carrying his team with no recognition and respect.
He watched Heather glare at Duncan and Leshawna as they entered the trailers. The focus of her ire now turned to the Killer Grips, where every member was dutifully present and holding a textbook. Well Justin wasn't, but he was listening to Beth. She seemed to narrow in on them. Justin reclined in his chair while Beth was nervously reading the book out loud.
"Ugh, I swear attraction is like a disease." Heather gripped her book angrily.
Ah yes, everyone's weird attraction to Justin was much like a disease. Or maybe it was more like hypnosis? Ooh, he should learn that and add it to his catalogue of mad skills. If he could hypnotize people into voting with him…nah, it didn't seem right, though it would be a very Heather thing to do.
He followed Heather back to the tent. Did she expect him to read for her? Maybe she would've expected it from Beth if she was on their team, but probably not him. Harold remembered how Heather bossed Beth and Lindsay around last season, the lesser members of their alliance. He and Heather were…more. He wasn't sure what that meant, but he knew he wasn't in the same category of alliance pawn that Heather saw Lindsay and Beth as.
When they arrived back at the tent, DJ was gone again. Was DJ ever here? he thought as he sat down across from Heather. She was busy reading already, so Harold supposed he should do the same.
Chapter 1: Anatomy. Ehh, maybe he'd start somewhere else. Harold flipped to a random page and landed on a passage about skin conditions. Sure, that was as good a topic as any to start on. In his exhausted state, he started thinking…
His love for Leshawna was like eczema. It was always there, an unending, all consuming itch. Everything about her made his skin hot and tingly - in a good way. Her silky voice, when she called him "baby" or "sugar", her assertive attitude, and of course her luscious behind. Leshawna had the prettiest eyes. He could stare into her rich brown eyes, lined with long, curled lashes, for an eternity.
Even if she didn't love him back as much as he loved her, he would have to live with it. His feelings for her would always be there. There was no known vaccine for loving Leshawna, an incurable malady. "Malady m'lady malady m'lady," Harold repeated the words in his head until they sounded meaningless.
His feelings for Heather were like allergies. They were always sort of there but only acted up in certain instances. Seeing her boobs was like the diagnosis. He had always suspected he may have liked her, but that moment really confirmed it.
They'd flare up at odd times: when she would light up with excitement anytime anybody agreed with her, that time he caught Heather messing with his num-yos, and now as he watched her read the textbook in a silent whisper, her brows furrowed and lips barely mouthing the words. He could tell she really wanted to prove her value as a teammate, and even if no one else on the Gaffers cared, he saw her efforts and greatly appreciated her.
His attraction to Gwen was like the flu. It was a brief seasonal crush that passed quickly. He'd had plenty of these before - both different strains of the flu and different fleeting crushes - and they never amounted to anything. Gwen had an attitude to her too, but she was more bark than bite. Deeper down, she was more passive than aggressive, and not really the type of girl he was interested in.
Harold was drifting off, but he forced himself to stay awake. Gosh, Heather was right, love is a disease.