Body Games (Games #5)(8)
Author: Jessica Clare

God.

“All right, guys,” Chip’s voice interrupted my self-loathing. “As I said before, everything you’re starting the game with is in that box right here.” He gestured at the row of colorful boxes lined up at his feet, each one no taller than his knee. “You’re not even allowed the clothes on your back. At the signal, find your box with your name and change into your gear. Once you have your gear, the game starts. This is your first challenge.”

I shivered. The game was beginning already. I was ready for this, though. All weekend, I’d brushed up on my skills that I’d learned from my last round on the island. I could make a decent fire with coconut fluff if given time and supplies. I was flexible and in shape. I studied puzzles and the local flora and fauna on the flight out so I wouldn’t be unawares. I was as ready as I could be.

“When I say go, you will change into your playing gear. Once you are changed, take your box and haul it across that line on the far side of the beach.” He pointed into the distance, and I could see a row of cameramen lined up next to a finish line with tiny waving flags. It was about a hundred yards away. Not a fun sprint, but a do-able one.

“The last team to change out of their clothing and into their Endurance Island gear will not be nominated for Judgment – they will be eliminated. Today is your first day in the game…and it will be the last for two players. This is immunity, Judgment, and execution all in one swoop.”

As a one, contestants started to cast confused looks at each other. We were all thinking the same thing – we were going to have to change clothes on the beach? In front of each other? Really? What the heck was up with that? This was national television, not cable, so I knew that any boobs or balls would be pixelated out, but I wasn’t relishing the thought of getting na**d in front of anyone, much less fifteen other someones…

And an entire camera crew watching, to boot.

Okay. I told myself I could do this. I studied the box, thinking. Inside, there would probably be a team shirt designation or something along those lines. Maybe a slip dress. I could probably wiggle into something without flashing my boobs to the world.

“Everyone ready?” Chip raised his hand, a gleeful look on his face. He quickly lowered it. “Go!”

There was no time to think. Everyone hauled ass forward, sand spraying as sixteen pairs of feet ran toward the row of boxes across the beach. The wind whipped strands of hair into my eyes and Kip quickly shoved ahead of me. I slowed momentarily, letting the stampeding rush of bodies swarm ahead. It wouldn’t do me any good to push ahead of Kip only to be slammed to the ground by a rogue elbow. I trotted as close behind the others as I dared, and reached the colored boxes a few steps after the others.

My hands landed on my box the moment the first gasp of shock went up.

That made me jerk upright. I looked away from my box as I pulled off the lid, staring down at the line.

A woman was holding up a pair of sneakers and waving them in the air. “This is all that’s in my box!” Others were pulling off their lids and murmuring as well. No one sounded happy. For that matter, no one sounded like they knew what to do.

Others held up their items – no one had anything but shoes.

I tossed the lid of my yellow box aside. Sure enough, there was a pair of dainty yellow and white sneakers laid neatly inside my box. That was it. I picked them up and shook them out, in case there was a clue of some kind to where the rest of my gear might be hidden.

“I don’t understand,” Kip said. “No one has anything but shoes.”

“That’s right,” Chip boomed from nearby. “For this season of Endurance Island, you’ll be playing stripped of every luxury. And that includes clothing.”

“You mean we’ll be playing naked?” Someone screeched further down the line. Probably Leslie.

“That’s right,” Chip said, sounding triumphant. “And as a reminder, the last team to change into their gear will be completely eliminated.”

As in, the last person to strip down to their birthday suit would cause their team to get the axe. If we didn’t want to get naked, they didn’t want us on the show.

In horror, I looked over at Kip. If he wasn’t going to get naked, I sure as shit wasn’t. But Kip pulled his shirt over his head even as I watched, flexing a tanned abdomen.

I should have guessed.

I supposed this was my chance. I could back out without penalty and screw over Kip’s game if I didn’t get naked. This was what I wanted, right? Off the island, prize money in hand, underpants firmly in place?

And then the world would still think I was a slut. And in addition to being a slut, I’d be a quitter.

Grimly, I tugged at the neck of my shirt.

Chapter Four

“I’m a stunt man. I’ve even been stunt buns once or twice when it was needed in an action scene. I live and work in Hollywood, which is a pretty shameless town. But I’ll be the first one to say that there were entirely too many franks and beans on that beach.” — Jendan, Day 1, Endurance Island: Power Players

“Come on, Annabelle,” Kip said, sounding irritated with me even as he dropped his shorts to the ground. “Hurry the f**k up.”

My resolve to strip and show the world that I was a force to be reckoned with fizzled under Kip’s heated words. So he didn’t want to lose, did he? I eased my grip on my shirt, knowing that the sweetest revenge at the moment would be to undress as slowly as possible, and I was a bitter enough betty to do it.

So I took my sweet-ass time, pretending to hesitate while people around me hurriedly stripped. I watched them out of the corner of my eye. Kip, I’d seen na**d before. But everyone else was removing clothing so fast that I wondered if they’d even thought about it.

Well, everyone except for the girl with the short hair who’d been so lovey-dovey on her boyfriend. He was looking at the girl, and she had her arms crossed over her chest, a mutinous look on her face. All her clothing was still on.

Apparently I had competition for being the slowest person to undress on the island.

Kip looked over and noticed that I hadn’t removed a stitch of clothing, even as he slid on his shoes. "What are you doing, Annabelle? Come on! It’s a f**king race!"

I was well aware of that. It was a race I was going to throw deliberately unless he stopped being such a douche. After all, I certainly did not want to be na**d on national TV. It wasn’t exactly going to help with my ‘Reality TV slut’ reputation. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe I don’t want to play naked? I certainly don’t want to play with you!"