Author's Note: I'll put the votes for each couple to the right of their names, and the "X" for them being voted off on the left.
-Izzy and Owen-1
-Heather and Justin-0
X-Lindsay and Tyler-0
-LeShawna and Harold-1
-Beth and Cody-1
-Eva and Ezekiel-0
-Bridgette and Geoff-2
-Gwen and Trent-30
-Courtney and Duncan-32
-Sadie and DJ-1
-Katie and Noah-2
"Climb faster!" Eva yells from within the helicopter.
A gust of wind from the propellers almost knocks Courtney off the ladder, but Duncan catches her. It just so happens that he caught her by touching her butt. "Duncan!" she squeals. He smirks. In the helicopter, there was a shortage of seats.
"Uh, yeah… The bigger helicopter cost more, and I had to dip in our funds last month for money for my hair products so… smaller helicopter it is," Chris explains.
Geoff sat in the last chair left, and as Bridgette was moving to sit on the floor, he grabs her waist and pulls her into his lap. "Uh-uh-uh," he tsks, kissing her on the cheek. Bridgette blushes.
Chef flies the helicopter over the forests, and lands it in a small clearing next to a rushing river. Chris climbs out of the helicopter first. "Your next challenge is to ride a raft down this river and make it across the finish line first. With the danger of floating logs, sharp rocks, and let's not forget piranhas, it takes great skill to navigate this raft to the end while staying afloat," Chris explains as the couples climb off the helicopter. "Oh no, Gwen, Trent. You guys will be staying on the helicopter. Chef will take you to camp to get dressed up and then he'll take you guys on your date."
"Isn't Gwen coming on our date?" Trent asked Chef suspiciously as Chef slammed the door of the helicopter. Gwen was still changing. Chef grunted.
"More romantic if you see Gwen at the date, not before."
"Alllright…" Trent says. Chef flies the helicopter in silence. Eventually Chef lands the helicopter on a grassy hill above a peaceful city, bright with lights. "You'll walk down the hill to the road. Take a left and you'll see La Primavera with lots of flowing ferns hanging from the ceiling and vines crawling up the pillars. Just walk in, tell the server your name, and he'll lead you to the pre-paid table," Chef growls. Trent nods his appreciation and hops out onto the springy grass.
He walks to the street, which is completely lines with Italian restaurants, coffee houses, and outdoor cafes. The tinkling of wine glasses and the pounding of bongos at a poetry reading fill the street. There are no streetlights, because the light from all the restaurants fill the road. Terracotta homes above the restaurants have overflowing flower boxes, drawing neon-colored butterflies to them. Trent stops in front of a tan three-story building. On the small sign by the door, it reads 'La Primavera'.
Trent climbs the stairs and through the foot-thick, 8-foot-tall doors held open by huge pots of flowers. "Party for two. I'm Trent," he tells the waitress. She nods and grabs two menus, "Right this way." She leads him through the dimly lighted room, full of tables with white tablecloths. Only a counter separates the dining area from the kitchen. In the kitchen are several brick pizza ovens, and inside are wooden pizza trays and a glowing fire. All at once, several chefs take their frying pans and flip something in the air. A burst of flame waves up from under each pan.
The waitress then leads Trent up to the second floor, a waiting room of sorts. There is a huge crackling fireplace with thick floor rugs spread around. Plush couches sit around a bar with a dazzling display of various wines. Huge French doors open up to a patio looking out to the night sky. Lattices cover the outside wall, with leafy vines climbing up them.
Then the waitress bring Trent up to the third floor, a greenhouse slash dining area. This floor has the tables like on the first floor, but then there is a huge glass dome covering the ceiling. "Here's your table," the waitress says, placing the menus on a table. Trent sits on the velvet seat cushion.
"Thanks."
"No problem. What would you like to drink?" she asks.
"Lemon water would be fine, thanks," Trent says, and the waitress walks away. He opens the menu, but he finishes looking around the third floor. More French doors lead to a little walkway all the way around the third floor, over looking the city. Flower vases sit against the wall, and as Trent looks at the plastic-covered menu, he sees the reflection of the stars. The waitress comes back and sets down two glasses of water.
"I thought your date may want some too," she says and Trent nods. "I'll come back to take your order when she arrives."
Trent sighs. Is she even coming? What if Chef crashed the helicopter? What if-- Trent's thoughts are interrupted by minty cool breath tickling his neck, "Well, don't you look handsome." He jumps up out of his seat and sees Gwen in a dazzling (and, yes, sexy) black dress. Trent steadies his swinging tie. Gwen smiles and gives a little chuckle. Trent steps back and gazes at Gwen's outfit: black sparkly bangles, black shiny high-heels, a black velvet clutch purse with a silver clasp, a thin silver necklace, and of course her short strapless black dress. Trent takes her hand, "You look amazing." He kisses her on the cheek.
Gwen blushes and walks over to her chair, which Trent had pulled out for her. He sits down across from her. After a couple minutes of looking over the menu, the waitress walks up again.
"May I take your order?" she asks.
"Sure," Trent says, "I'll have the Manicotti Alla Romana."
"And I'll have the Escarole Siciliano," Gwen says, handing the waitress her menu.
"Coming right up," the waitress says, walking away.
"Care for some wine?" Trent asks, standing up.
"Sure," Gwen smiles. Trent leads Gwen down to the second floor, his hand on the small of her back. Trent moves his hand and grabs hold of hers and leads her through the thickening crowd. At the bar, Trent grabs hold of two cups of wine, both cups with very fine stems. He hands one to Gwen.
"It's crowded, do you want to go upstairs, maybe on the terrace?" she asks. Trent takes a sip of the red wine and nods. Upstairs, he holds the French door open for Gwen. She gasps and sets her wine on the short wall.
"It's beautiful," she whispers. Trent leans on the wall next to her and looks at the city. Gwen was right: the whole main street made the sky seem to glow a green color. And beyond the street were rolling green hills and the sky, which was crammed full of stars. Trent turns to examine Gwen's face, which was still turned towards the city.
"You're right: It is beautiful out here," Trent says. Gwen smiles, takes a sip of her wine, and looks at Trent. Oh, Gwen thinks, He was meaning me. She blushes. Trent moves closer to her and gently puts his hands on her hips.
Trent looks into her eyes. Gwen's eyes were sparkling-- they were reflecting the stars in the sky. Trent smiles, and he starts swaying. Is he drunk already?, Gwen thinks. But then she hears it. A symphony of string instruments beginning a song. Trent wants to dance. Gwen slides her arms around Trent's neck, and they start slow dancing. Halfway through the song, Trent smiles.
"What?" Gwen asks.
"Nothing. Nothing," he says.
"No, tell me," Gwen insists, a smile on her face. Trent sighs, but he's still smiling.
"I was just thinking of last summer, at TDI," he says.
"Mm-hmm?"
"Aaaand I was thinking of how we never got one last kiss after Owen won," Trent says. Gwen smiles.
"But we kissed at the movie theater."
"Yeah, and that was great. But we never really kissed after TDI, then I hardly saw you during the winter," Trent says, grimacing.
"I visited all I could!" Gwen said.
"I know, I know, but if you wouldn't mind, I'd just like to try one thing…" Trent leaves off and stops dancing. He leans in towards Gwen, and kisses her. Trent pulls her close to him, holding her waist. Gwen moves her hands from his shoulders into his hair. Trent smiles in the kiss.
