Chapter Four
Allie had spent weeks preparing for the rough conditions that Outlast Her was known for.
In the mornings, before heading to the gallery, Amelia had chaperoned her to Echo Park indoor pool where Allie had built her fitness slowly, swimming from one tiled wall to the other.
Eventually, she’d graduated from flailing lengths in chlorinated water to actual ocean swims. They’d driven out to Venice Beach at dawn when the sky was still pink, where Allie had gasped her way through the breakers while Amelia jogged along the shoreline.
Evenings had become less about going out to bars and more about punishing HIIT sessions that took her to near breaking point.
She’d swapped white wine for cold-pressed juices and spinach smoothies and even spent one entire weekend eating only rice and beans.
She’d also spent an unforgivable amount of time wondering how to sneak in some seasoning.
Now, as the longboat chugged across the cobalt Pacific toward a beach along the Osa Peninsula, Allie leaned back and let the sea spray mist her cheeks.
The shore ahead was a dense rainforest dripping with giant ceiba, towering amargo trees, strangler figs, and coconut palm trees.
The beach was a deep-golden ribbon of shoreline speckled with driftwood and smooth volcanic stones that gleamed like dark coins in the sun.
Allie wasn’t going to lie; she’d spent much of last night’s valuable sleeping time conjuring up pretty pictures in her head of how this morning was supposed to look.
She had imagined hot sun on her glistening shoulders while the camera crew angled their lenses on her as if she were the star of the show.
But so far all she’d done was spend every minute of the boat ride trying to catch Barra’s attention.
Their encounter at the airport had been volatile at best. No apologies for the vomit.
Yes, Allie still remembered. Her silk dress had been ruined beyond salvation.
Jim, her dry cleaner, had even called her personally and suggested she should let the garment go.
And no civilities either. Whatever happened to asking someone how they were doing after fucking them in a bathroom stall only to disappear into the night when the plan had been to go to her hotel together?
Allie hadn’t seen Barra since that wedding.
She hadn’t heard a single word from her, and then she’d had the audacity to talk down to her like that.
That flinch. That tone. “You should know that we’re not actually allowed to talk.
” Allie wasn’t a duck. Words didn’t fall off her back like water.
She was the type of person who held onto things and let them fester.
Amelia called her an emotional hoarder and even believed that one day Allie was going to open up a cupboard in her brain and be buried alive under the mental debris.
And then there were the two days of quarantine at Villa Solana just outside Puerto Jiménez, which sure as hell hadn’t helped.
But the more she tried to will Barra to look at her, the more Barra seemed intent on ignoring her. Fine. Whatever. Allie wasn’t in this game for her. She was here to win, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to let Barra get in her way.
“Alright, everyone!” a voice called, snapping her thoughts in half.
The engine cut, and the longboat gave a final shudder before settling into a restless bob while waves slapped against the hull.
Allie whipped her head to where the voice had come from and spotted Vivian standing on the neighboring longboat.
Her signature ice-blonde hair was a bit darker.
It had a more caramel-blonde tone. Allie wasn’t convinced it suited her.
“Welcome to Season Seven of Outlast Her,” Vivian called.
“This year, we’re bringing you to the wild and breathtaking Osa Peninsula on Costa Rica’s southern Pacific coast.” She gestured toward the looming shoreline.
A red and yellow macaw flew above the trees.
“This region contains nearly two-and-a-half percent of the world’s biodiversity.
Dense primary rainforest, extreme humidity, unpredictable tides, and wild terrain that will test even our returning winners.
This is one of the most remote and physically demanding locations we’ve ever used. ”
She said it like she was proud of it, and Allie’s stomach dipped. Fuck. Wild terrain?
Allie hadn’t considered anything wilder than a beach with palm trees and coconuts.
Why hadn’t she listened to Amelia’s advice and organized a camping trip to Crystal Lake?
Or gone hiking at Runyon Canyon Park. But then she remembered why.
Allie had been twelve years old at St. Agnes Girls Academy in Upstate New York.
She’d been forced on a compulsory outdoor education trip which had involved thirty girls in puffer jackets marching along the Taughannock Falls Gorge trail.
Allie had twisted her ankle before they’d even reached the first lookout and vowed never to hike again.
Which had come easily enough. Her parents were both surgeons and had been far too busy saving lives to invest time in hiking trips.
And she didn’t mind. Her life had been cushioned.
She was raised in a pale limestone townhouse on the Upper East Side where the floors were heated, the sheets pressed daily, and the towels always fluffed.
And Mara, her nanny, had catered to her every whim.
When she moved to LA at the age of twenty-two, she’d simply upgraded her life. Which is why Amelia had to be right. Maybe she didn’t belong outside. Wild terrain felt extraterrestrial. How would someone even walk there?
“And to add fuel to the fire,” Vivian said, smiling in a way that Allie could only assume was trouble. Lots of trouble. “Today you won’t be paired up by the rocks you choose. The first six contestants to reach the flag will have the opportunity to choose their pairs.”
What?
There were several gasps, Allie included.
That wasn’t just an advantage; it was power.
She suddenly became acutely aware of everyone on the boat.
She was silently determining who looked fast, who looked strong enough to win challenges, and who could either sink her ship or battle it through a wave.
She even recognized a few of the previous winners.
The woman beside her, wearing a butter-yellow T-shirt, had won Season Four.
Her name was Sutton Mitchell, and she was some corporate bigshot who’d ended up investing some of her winnings into a new queer-only ski resort in Breckenridge.
And there, across from Allie, was Connie with her flaming red hair.
She was an underdog turned Season One winner, and just beside her was Anna Lee, whom the fans had dubbed The Shadow because she’d lurked in the shadows of mangrove trees, spying on her fellow contestants.
In the end, she’d beaten Tarrin Derby, her partner, by a single vote and became Season Two’s Ultimate Outlast Her.
“Everyone ready?” Vivian called.
Allie had watched enough Outlast Her episodes to know exactly what came next. The contestants were expected to leap heroically into the water and swim to the shore.
“Go!”
Before Allie could even consider the implication that her sneakers would get wet, Barra was up and out of the boat. Honestly, she hadn’t even stopped to think about wrecking her sneakers, let alone why she’d chosen to wear her Golden Goose Superstars in the first place.
Allie watched Barra disappear over the side, and then something she couldn’t explain came over her. A feeling so great that it moved her arms and legs before her brain could even make sense of what her body was doing. Without a single thought, she vaulted into the water after Barra.
The ocean swallowed Allie whole. It was warm on top but shockingly cool underneath.
Salt shot up her nose, and she came up sputtering.
She blinked the sunlight out of her eyes.
Thank goodness Amelia had forced her through the weeks of early morning beach swims, or else this would’ve been a fresh kind of horror she might not have overcome.
Was it possible to get back into the boat?
It appeared not. The boat was already drifting a few feet away.
Not that she would. She had a point to prove.
Besides, she’d never live it down if she quit before the game even started.
Her book club would desecrate her. So, she whipped her head back toward the beach, where the rainforest dripped behind it.
Ahead of her, Barra was already cutting through the water.
Her arms were long and strong. Her body moved like a dolphin.
For some reason, something hot flared in Allie’s chest, though she couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
Was it anger? Maybe it was attraction. But she didn’t have time to ponder the feeling.
She needed to get moving. She needed to get into that top six.
Using Barra’s head as a beacon, Allie lunged forward and started swimming toward land. Her first few kicks were messy and a little overeager. Her arm smacked a small wave instead of slicing it, but it was fine; she found her rhythm on the fourth stroke, and by the fifth, she was reducing the gap.
Around her, the other contestants fanned out.
Allie didn’t know any of the newbies’ names, but she did spot Elodie with her pink hair.
Elodie had won last season and, frankly, Allie was surprised she was here.
She’d spent a great deal of time recovering from the mosquito bites she’d endured in Brazil.
Oh no. A large wave rose right behind her.
Allie wasn’t sure what to do. Should she surf the wave? Did she even know how? Nope. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut and ducked beneath the water, letting the wave crash over her. A few quick moments later, she broke through the water’s surface unscathed and quickly scanned ahead again.
Barra was right there. She was maddeningly within reach. But what would Allie do if she caught up with her? Would she yank her arm back and demand an apology? But which apology? By now there were several that she owed Allie.
Allie didn’t have time to think this through because the water shallowed abruptly and then her knee knocked something hard.
Pain shot up her leg. She reached for her shin to check if she was bleeding, but the waves shoved at her hips and tugged her sideways.
She prayed there weren’t sharks around that would be drawn to fresh blood. She felt like a fucking rag doll.
“Barra’s out of the water!” Vivian called from the shore. Allie snapped her head up to see Vivian standing by the flag. She funneled her hands in front of her mouth like a megaphone and yelled, “So are Elodie and Margaret.”
Allie barely noticed pink-haired Elodie and the woman running beside her. Her focus was entirely on Barra, whose long legs took graceful strides across the sand.
“Here comes Tilly,” Vivian shouted just as a woman with ice-blonde hair burst out of the surf like she’d been launched from a cannon. She whipped right past Allie, who came splashing out after her. “Allie’s out. Another newbie!”
At the sound of her name, Allie’s chest bloomed with hope.
She was fifth. She was going to make it, although she had no idea how.
Her legs were feeling so heavy that she wasn’t sure how she was going to manage a sprint.
She’d never actually sprinted in her life.
She prayed adrenaline would kick in. She’d heard stories of mothers lifting cars off injured children and hoped this was the same biological phenomenon.
But then... her foot caught in the wet sand.
At the edge of the rainforest, the flag whipped from its bamboo pole in a blur of crimson and sun-bleached black fabric.
She barreled toward it with her arms pumping and her eyes locked on the target.
Then, without warning, she was airborne.
Her face hit the sand first, and the force of it knocked all the oxygen from her lungs.
From somewhere that felt far away, she heard Vivian’s voice. “Allie’s down! And Juniper has just shot past her.”
And she was down. She was lying on her stomach, completely stunned as the ocean roared behind her. Someone’s foot pounded past her shoulder, and she suddenly had an image of Mufasa being trampled in The Lion King.
But she wasn’t going to die. Not today.
So, she spat sand out of her mouth and shoved herself up onto her knees.
Her hair was hanging in wet ropes over her face, and her blouse, a lightweight ivory silk Magda Butrym that production had approved, was now clinging to her like a second skin.
Down below she could feel her knee throbbing.
If she were bleeding, she didn’t know. There wasn’t any time to check. She had to get to that flag.
“And we’ve got our first six!” Vivian called.
Allie snapped her head up toward the flag only to spot Vivian clapping her hands as six women stood gathered around the pole. One of them was Barra.