Chapter Twenty-One
Isla felt a kick in her step. Either it was the residual sugar high from yesterday’s cappuccino muffins, or it had nothing to do with the muffins and everything to do with last night.
She and Tamsyn had snuck out to the clearing, where they’d done nothing but make out under the creaking branches of their gum tree.
There had been no talk of whatever Tamsyn had wanted to discuss the night before, and Isla had felt entirely relieved.
Maybe she’d gotten it all wrong and Tamsyn didn’t want to talk about their future.
Maybe Isla had prematurely panicked because she’d been having several disturbing thoughts the days prior, like moving all the way to Santa Monica.
Like learning west-side traffic patterns and knowing which side of the bed Tamsyn preferred and sharing her two-hundred-dollar face cream when Tamsyn’s ran out.
Like building a life that included shared grocery lists, weekend trips to Palm Springs or Catalina Island, and packing school lunches for Tamsyn with little handwritten notes between turkey-and-avocado sandwiches and a neat row of sliced carrots. Have a great day. I love you.
Ha, what was she thinking? Isla was a New Yorker. She didn’t pack lunch for anyone. She barely packed lunch for herself. And she most certainly wasn’t the type of person who fantasized about domestication.
“That looks dangerous,” Barra said as they rounded the corner.
Isla, who was looking down at her feet admiring her handiwork—she’d scrubbed her Nikes clean in the creek this morning—looked up and suddenly that bounce in her step turned to lead.
Ahead of them, in the center of the clearing, was what could only be described as a sadistic-looking obstacle course.
Three sadistic-looking obstacle courses. One for each pair.
“Shit, it looks harder than Ninja Warrior,” Dominique added.
Isla had never watched Ninja Warrior, but somehow she knew the only person who could complete this challenge was an actual ninja with the core strength of a marble statue.
Damn! Why had she given half of her third muffin away to Josie?
She wanted it back. Or ten more. Or however many muffins were needed to feel like she could power through whatever torture they would have to endure.
The letter was right; fortune favors the well-fed.
“Welcome, Outlast Her contestants,” Vivian said once they reached the usual stretch of canvas spread across the dirt.
Isla was very aware of Tamsyn standing close because their shoulders brushed.
If Isla moved just an inch, she could hook her pinky finger with Tamsyn’s.
She was tempted. But also, she would never.
The cameras might notice. “How are you all doing?”
No one replied. Which was fair, considering most, if not all of them, were staring panicked at the biggest obstacle course Outlast Her had ever seen.
Vivian, who was dressed in a moss-green tank top tucked into a pair of loose khaki shorts with cream sandals adorning her feet, said, “I can see a few bewildered expressions.” She tilted her head toward Josie. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so terrified.”
Josie cleared her throat. “Well, I don’t think you can blame me.”
Vivian smiled. “As you all know, this season is all about testing the boundaries. As the first season with returning contestants, we have to go big or go home.” Then her smile turned into a grin, and her eyes sparkled.
“Which is what this challenge is all about. We’re not just testing strength, but strategy and stamina.
Each stage of this course will push you a little further. ”
Isla had no doubt that they were going to be pushed. But pushed to exhaustion? Pushed until their bodies gave up? What kind of reward would be worth all that pushing?
“Stage one includes the rope drag,” Vivian said, pointing to the far end of the clearing where a weighted sled stacked with sandbags sat innocently.
From the sled snaked a thick rope across a stretch of dirt to a marked line.
“You need to pull the rope hand-over-hand until the sled crosses the mark before you can continue to the next stage.”
Isla flexed her fingers. Beside her, Tamsyn rolled out her shoulders.
“Stage two is a mud drive,” Vivian continued, gesturing toward a massive wooden wheel resting at one edge of a long mud trench.
“You will need to roll the wheel from one end of the trench to the other.” The mud looked deep enough to swallow a shoe, and Isla inwardly groaned.
Her freshly cleaned Nikes would never survive this course.
“Stage three involves a dead-weight hang,” Vivian said, smiling at the series of thick wooden rungs suspended by chains.
Each hung about a foot apart and about eight feet off the ground.
Beneath the rungs was a shallow water trough that would just break a fall.
Isla, however, had no intention of falling.
“You will cross using your hands only. If you fall, you need to restart.”
Aggie groaned loudly. Her upper body strength was equivalent to a damp paper towel.
Not only had their first and only team challenge proved this.
The other day, Isla had watched her attempt a chaturanga—Dominique had led everyone through a sun salutation flow two mornings ago—and could confidently say the woman’s arms could barely support her body weight.
Her and Tamsyn’s chances of winning had improved by twenty-five percent.
Vivian then gestured to a scattered pile of weighted crates beneath a tall platform. “The lift is built,” she said.
It was pretty easy to assume that the only way to the top of the platform was to stack the blocks into a staircase.
Which was why Isla barely listened to Vivian explain the stage.
Instead, she focused on Tamsyn’s arm touching hers and wondered what it would be like to wake up every morning beside her. In a real bed, with real bedding.
“Once you’re on the platform, you’ll need to run down the ramp. Watch out, it’s steep. Then it’s on to the fifth and final stage: the barrel carry.”
Isla’s attention snapped back to the obstacle course.
“Each of you will need to carry two wooden barrels across the sand to the marked zone. They’re heavy.
Dragging is allowed. The first pair to get all four barrels across wins.
” Then she smiled, and Isla was fairly certain Vivian was relieved she didn’t have to run the obstacle course herself.
Isla would be relieved too. “Don’t worry, I promise the reward will be worth the suffering.
Do you want to know what you’re playing for? ”
There was a collective YES!
“A night away, glamping in the mountains,” Vivian announced, gleaming. “You will have a private tent. There will be a hot tub under the stars. And burgers from Shake Shack with fries and a milkshake of your choosing.”
Isla nearly screamed. It had been years since she had a ShackBurger, even longer since she had a milkshake.
If only they could skip right over the obstacle course and somehow win the whole thing.
Isla wanted to jump right into that hot tub with Tamsyn.
She didn’t even care about having her own tent.
Sharing with Tamsyn would be the highlight of the evening.
And that burger... that hundred percent Angus beef patty, American cheese, lettuce, tomato, signature sauce, all tucked inside a softly toasted potato bun.
UGH!! Just thinking about it made her mouth water.
She was practically drooling. If they ended up winning, Isla might even consider talking about their “future.” The prospect of crispy, golden crinkle-cut fries was enough to make anyone brave.
Vivian was right. The reward was worth the suffering.
“Everyone to their positions.”
Tamsyn hooked her arm in Isla’s. “We’re going to win this,” she muttered in her ear.
Isla couldn’t agree more. She flashed the biggest, most convincing smile.
“Hell yes,” she said, and even pumped her fist embarrassingly in the air.
For a split second, she hoped the cameras hadn’t caught it, but then she saw the look on Tamsyn’s face—complete amusement and deep admiration—and suddenly she didn’t care.
The horn blared.
The next moment Isla and Tamsyn sprinted toward the rope drag.
“Front or back?” Tamsyn called.
“Back,” Isla replied, already grabbing the rope behind her.
Tamsyn took the lead position and braced her feet just before the marked line. Isla was right behind. She couldn’t keep her eyes from sliding from the sled to the rippling muscles of Tamsyn’s back. She planted her heels into the dirt and yelled, “Pull!”
The sled jerked. Then moved. The sandbags shifted, but none fell off.
“This thing weighs a ton,” Isla grunted, wishing a few sandbags would hit the ground. She was leaning back so hard her heels were carving twin trenches through the dust.
“Just keep pulling,” Tamsyn said over her shoulder. “One hand over the other.”
Isla nodded and did just that. The sled lurched forward in grinding bursts, inching closer and closer to the finish line.
Isla couldn’t help thinking that if they could drag a sled full of sandbags across the red-streaked dirt of Flinders Ranges without a big discussion, then surely they could figure out everything else too.
“Done,” Tamsyn called out just as the sled scraped over the painted line.
They dropped the ropes at the exact same time and broke into a sprint. By the time they reached the mud drive, Isla’s thighs were already shaking.
The wooden wheel was way heavier than it looked.
Isla planted both palms against the oak rim and shoved. “Fuck,” she moaned. They’d been asked by the production team to keep swearing to a minimum. But this was a fuck kind of moment. The mud had swallowed her newly cleaned Nikes with a greedy schlurp. Again! How could this happen to her twice?
“Push!” Tamsyn shouted.