Episode 9
It’s day ten and Celeste Ashford steals from me.
I flutter awake to the sun’s blazing rays peeking through the tree branches.
The way sweat is already beading at my temples just after sunrise tells me today’s going to be another miserably hot day.
Yesterday’s shower fun comes to mind and I reach over to Celeste.
Nothing. I sit up and rub my eyes, then scan around.
She’s gone. The shower kit’s gone too. The only thing remaining is the knife she was supposed to take.
Damn you, Celeste Ashford. I should be upset, but after the evening we had, nothing today will wipe the smile off my face.
Three hours later, I’m standing on the mat with my team ready to hear about the next immunity challenge, eyeing the mud pit set up like a shortened football field. At opposite ends sit two large plastic bins. In the middle sits a heavy burlap sack half my size filled with sand.
The tropical air is thick and heavy with zero breeze. Not ideal for what looks to be a physical challenge. We haven’t started yet and I’m already slick with sweat. My team is whispering strategy around me, but my brain keeps drifting back to the lingering taste of Celeste’s lips on mine.
Steph stands at the center wearing a baseball cap.
“Today’s challenge is for immunity. It’s called Sandbag Showdown.
You’ll be doing one on one match ups between the teams. On my signal, you and your opponent will fight for possession of that sandbag.
Your goal is to carry, drag, or throw it into your team’s bin at the opposite end of the pit.
First team to bank five sandbags wins immunity.
The losing team goes to The Summit tonight. ”
I not so casually let my gaze linger over Celeste’s fit frame while she’s standing with her team on the mat next to ours. Does she want a round two as badly as I do?
Steph’s trademark dimpled grin spreading across her face pulls me back to the challenge.
“Because the teams are uneven, Team Femme will sit one person out per round, keeping the matchups one-on-one. Also, there’s a couple of ground rules.
No striking. No choking. No hair pulling.
No spanking. No mark leaving. We are not in your bedroom. ”
The entire field erupts into a fit of giggles, some more bashful than others, then the teams decide battling orders.
“Round one,” Steph calls. “Celeste. Paya. Step into the pit.”
Celeste’s knowing smile in my direction is becoming too hard to ignore.
Finally, I give in, holding her gaze and overwhelmed at the tingle traveling down my body, more south than I expected.
My cheeks burn, probably as red as my team wrap tight around my bicep. I definitely want another round of her.
The mud is thick and hot under my feet as I walk out to meet her. No friendly wave. No acknowledgement of last night. We take our positions on either side of the heavy sandbag, our eyes locked in a competitive stare. I don’t care how good of a kisser she is, I’m here to win.
“Go!” Steph yells.
I lunge forward, grabbing at the corner of the sandbag. Our bodies collide with a wet thud, mud spraying up my calf as we wrestle. Celeste uses her height immediately, leaning her weight on top of me, pinning me and the bag down to the ground.
“Should I go easy on you?” she murmurs, her chest pressed firmly against mine, wrapping her arms around my torso to scoop me up off the bag. Her breath is hot against my collarbone.
“Please, you can’t beat me.” I pant a laugh and jut my hips upward, grinding against her to wiggle free, but getting nowhere. I’m glad she’s enjoying herself.
Somehow I manage to slip free, bag in my arms. I twist hard against her ribs and crawl to my feet. Only to get yanked down from Celeste’s muddy hand around my shoe. The fight escalates. Steph’s commentary lost in the air of slick sweat mixed with mud and our ragged breathing.
I scramble on top of her. Her shoulders are pinned beneath me, the bag between us. I lean down, my mouth brushing her ear as she writhes beneath me. “Your thighs feel so fucking hot. I want them choking me later.”
She freezes, her eyes widening and I take advantage of her distracted state. I twist the sandbag free, slam my weight upward, and bolt toward the end zone. Heart hammering, I heave the heavy canvas sack into our bin.
“Femme scores! One-zero,” Steph shouts.
Cheers erupt from the sidelines. With a muddy smile I walk over to Celeste pushing herself up from the ground. I wink. “That’s for stealing our shower kit.”
In round two, Bo and Saffron step up. Bo gets pinned by Saffron in under ten seconds, completely giving up and lying flat in the mud while Saffron casually walks the sandbag to our bin like she’s strolling through a grocery store. The score’s tied at one to one.
Round three hits. Arlie locks her arms around Beya, pinning the sandbag to her chest. My brows furrow as Arlie leans in and whispers something.
Beya’s eyes snap open, a hot flush burning across her face.
She drops the sandbag into the dirt. Arlie simply picks it up and strolls to the end zone.
Saffron and I look at each other and shrug with a laugh.
“Two-one, Team Femme!” I hear Steph yell.
The rounds continue on, feeling like we’ve been outside for days, not hours.
Everyone is a sweaty, muddy mess under the brutal high sun.
My entire body throbs as I’m sitting here baking in the heat.
I’d be happy that the challenge is ending soon, except the score is four to three. Team Masc is winning.
Raina steps into the pit against Dana for round eight.
They match in weight, strength, and size.
Raina’s at least twenty years younger, but Dana’s known for her tenacity, always refusing to back down.
This is Dana’s second round she’s played, so I hope that gives Raina the upper hand.
We need this win to tie, then we can regroup to win.
My team cheers the ship captain on as she matches Dana’s grueling wrestling that lasts for several minutes, clearly draining them both.
Finally, like a rugby player, Raina lowers her shoulder and shoves Dana hard.
I wince. That looked like it hurt. Immediately, Dana drops to the ground while she runs free and scores.
“We’re tied at four-four!” Steph’s voice echoes across the field. “Next point wins immunity.”
Dana is slow to get up, lingering on her hands and knees before staggering back to her team bench.
I glance over at Team Masc and mirror Celeste’s adorably exhausted lopsided smile and watch as she drags herself to her feet for the final round against Arlie.
My attention drifts to Dana at the end and my grin disappears. Something’s wrong.
Dana’s posture is off, her shoulders are hunched as if her legs can’t support her weight. Her eyes are heavy and glassy, barely opened. My stomach drops watching it in slow motion. She rises to her feet and takes a wobbly step.
Then she crashes to the ground.
Heads turn and Steph screams for medical. The competitive lines vanish as players from both teams and three medics rush toward Dana’s limp body on the grass.
Minutes later, the distant thump of helicopter blades vibrates through the sky. Silence hangs over the playing field when a stretcher crew arrives, lifting Dana with immense care, keeping the cooling packs tightly in place.
I peer around, unable to swallow the lump in my throat.
There’s not a dry face on Team Masc. I slide my hand onto Celeste’s lower back for comfort and she pulls me into a tight hug and weeps.
This is the first time I’ve seen her cry.
My heart breaks for Team Masc. They love Dana; we all do.
Watching her lie there, I recall her speech from the other day.
Like me, she has an entire life outside of The Final Summit.
And in a matter of minutes, the sun had simply stolen her chance to win.
As they carry Dana past us, Saffron and I reach out a hand, our fingers brushing against Dana’s pale skin as the stretcher moves by. Beya and Celeste grip her other hand for a brief second. Jeida is crying beside me.
“We love you, Dana!” we yell in unison.
“Tell your wife we love her too.” Lex shouts, face wet with tears.
Dana’s eyes barely open and she gives us a weak smile and waves goodbye, her chest rising and falling in shallow rhythms, a tear falling as she’s carried away and lifted inside the helicopter. Then she’s gone.
The island goes quiet for several minutes, the tied score of today’s immunity challenge and muddy field completely abandoned.
Steph walks over after speaking with medical. Even she looks shaken up. That’s probably a first.
She breaks the silence. “Given Dana’s medical evacuation, no one will be voted out tonight at The Summit. Therefore, we’re not finishing today’s immunity challenge. Both teams head back to camp.”
Celeste’s fingers squeeze mine one last time and I do my best to offer a comforting smile, suddenly wishing we were on the same team, but that’s never going to happen. Not in a game like this.
Steph pauses and scans our faces. “You never know when it’s your last day in this game. Savor every second.”