I patted my canteen, stuffed into one of my shoes. To my relief, Kip had remembered his as well. With our water supplies at hand, we were off to our first challenge.
The breeze on the water was cool, a fine mist splashing my overheated skin. I tilted my head back and enjoyed it, not even caring that I was buck na**d on a speedboat that carried five people - me, Kip, our cameraman, and two production crew. No matter how modest you were, when your entire body ached from sunburn, the last thing you wanted was to put a layer of clothing on it.
One of Endurance Island’s rules was that there was no talking during transportation. If Kip and I wanted to talk to each other, we had to save it for when we landed. Not that this was a problem for me, of course. I enjoyed the silence and relaxed as we sped toward the challenge grounds.
The boat dropped us off a short time later and Kip and I (and our cameraman) headed toward the challenge beach, shoes in hand. As we got there, everyone else was already lined up, and I took a moment to study the others as we walked.
They looked just as rough as we did. Thank god for that. Everyone was striped bright red on portions of their skin. Everyone looked as exhausted and worn as I did, too. My guess was that they were sleeping about as well as we were, which meant not at all. It was hard to sleep when you were shivering and things kept crawling all over you. Oh, and no clothing. That didn’t help things.
I felt uncomfortable as we walked up on the beach, all eyes on us. I thought of my bright red sunburned br**sts, my flat butt, and my thighs that jiggled too much. Ugh. Being na**d in front of strangers made you feel vulnerable in ways I’d never imagined.
Still, I couldn’t help but gawk at the others. One woman had obviously fake br**sts. One had a tattoo in an embarrassing location. One was cringing, her hands cupped over her small br**sts. Kissy stood there, proud as could be, hands on hips, br**sts sagging with age and her stomach lined from pregnancies. If she could do it, I determined, I could do it. I walked a little straighter at the sight of her.
The men had looked uniformly strong and in shape while clothed (well, except Rusty). It was surprising to see all their flaws hanging out. Kip’s legs looked birdy next to Emilio’s strong thighs. One guy had balls that hung down low and uneven. One man was embarrassingly half-mast. I didn’t know if he was excited because of the upcoming challenge or all the na**d bodies on the beach.
And tall, dark, and gorgeous that I’d sat next to on day one? He was perfection, in a rather large, rather impressive package. I tried not to stare as we moved down the line, but Jesus. That Sunnie chick was lucky. I’d trade her partner for Kip any day.
Cameras readied. I brushed the sand off of one foot at a time and put my shoes on. When I straightened, Chip was in place, his makeup so thick I could see it from where I stood. He checked his reflection in a hand-held mirror and then tucked it into his pocket, then studied us as we stood on the line. “How’s everyone handling their time on the island? Got fire? Shelter?” He turned to the two athletic women, who were as stunningly, disgustingly flab-free. “Summer?”
“Shelter, but we’re struggling with fire,” she admitted, looking at her partner.
“What about you, Jendan?” He turned to Hotness.
Jendan. That was his name. I tasted it on my mouth, then shook my head at my own silliness. Not here to lust after guys. Not even if they were incredibly hot and incredibly, ahem, hung.
“Same,” he said briefly, looking over at his partner. “We’re not used to roughing it on an island.”
“Some of our contestants are, though. Let’s hear from a returning Endurance Island player,” Chip said, his gaze scanning down the line until it rested on our team. “Kip, how are things at your camp?”
“They’re great, Chip,” Kip said easily. “Annabelle and I have things under control. Water. Shelter, you name it, we’ve got it.”
I kept my mouth pressed shut, though I wanted to laugh hysterically at Kip’s answer. What was the point in bluffing? To pretend that we were strong? The moment we fumbled in the challenge like the others, they’d know the truth - we were just as exhausted and hungry as the others.
Also, what was this ‘we’ crap? If there was any level of comfort around camp, it was because I’d been working my butt off while Kip lounged and moped about his sunburned dick.
“Well, with that, let’s get to today’s challenge.” Chip clapped his hands together and rubbed them, as if anticipating an exciting show. “You’re going to be participating in footraces against each other. Teams will be randomly selected, and when I say go, both teams will head out into the swimming area.” He pointed at the beach behind him. “In the water are colored buoys. Under each buoy is a golden ring, tied to rope. There is only one ring and two teams competing for that ring. Your job is to find that ring and bring it back. If the other team has the ring, you need to get it from them. The first one to cross the finish line with the ring gets a point for their team. The last two teams to score three points will be nominated for Judgment.”
I peered at the waves. Sure enough, there was a colored ball bobbing about halfway between the shore and the boats where the camera crews waited for the challenge.
“Everyone understand the rules?” At our silence, Chip pointed. “Good. I don’t need to remind you about the physical rules of Endurance Island, then. No punching, hitting, kicking, drowning, eye-gouging, etc.”
My eyes widened and I looked down the line. Last season, the challenges had been almost wimpy. We’d never had any sort of full-contact challenge. I was a little unnerved, considering I was one of the smaller, softer girls on the beach.
“Ready to play? Then, Team Three versus Team Seven. You’re up.”
Summer and Polly (their names written across their collarbones and shoulders) strode forward, high-fiving each other. Leslie and Emilio looked less certain as they moved forward, and I didn’t blame them. Summer and Polly were clearly in amazing shape. I sure didn’t want to go up against them. Both teams moved to the starting line and crouched, which gave those of us on the far end of the beach a display of four pairs of sun-reddened asses. Someone snickered.
“Go!” Chip yelled.
All four people raced forward, splashing into the challenge area. As I watched, Summer took an early lead, swimming out. Instead of chasing after her partner, Polly turned and tackled Emilio in the water, pushing him under. Leslie gave a bellow of anger, and instead of chasing after Summer, she tackled Polly, trying to pull her off of her partner. The three thrashed in the water, and as I watched, Summer easily swam out to the buoy, dove, came up with the Frisbee-sized ring, and began to splash her way back to shore. By the time Leslie realized that Polly was a distraction, it was too late. Summer was bounding onto shore, dripping wet, the ring held high.