The wheel landed on purple. Fido lifted the card and read. “Make your momma proud.”
Jayme went over to the purple table and picked up the card there. “This challenge is both easy and difficult,” she read. “It’s easy, because all you have to do is tear off all your clothes and streak across the challenge area nak*d. It’s difficult, because it involves being nak*d! But if you do it, you’ll win the Power Play. You both have five minutes to complete this challenge. And don’t worry—any nak*d bits will be blurred out for national TV. Ready?” She clicked the stopwatch. “Go!”
I stood there, my jaw hanging slightly open. Sunnie smirked at me from the sidelines. Of course she was smirking. Not only did she have a full head of hair, but she wasn’t going to have to get nak*d on national TV. I looked over at Brodie, but he hadn’t moved a muscle yet. He was watching me, his gaze curious.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “What if we both refuse to do this?”
“Then we all start over,” Jayme said. “Everyone re-enters the competition.”
“Fuck that,” Brodie said, and began to strip off his athletic shorts.
The others laughed, cheering and clapping, encouraging him on. I remained frozen in place. Brodie was going to do it to ensure one of us would win. If I took off all my clothes and streaked, I’d get to go on to the next round. And then what? More milkshakes? Shave my head completely bald? Do a nak*d dance? I shuddered.
My hands went to the hem of my shirt and…I stopped. I couldn’t do it. I swallowed hard, feeling sick all over again even though my stomach was empty.
I’d come this far. Could I strip to win?
I looked over. Brodie was down to his underwear, his clothing pooled around his feet. He put his hands on the waistband of his boxers and then paused, glancing over at me.
Waiting to see if I was going to do it.
“I can’t,” I murmured thickly. I’m sorry, Mom. “I can’t get nak*d on national TV.”
“I can,” Brodie announced.
Down went his boxers.
~~ * ~~
We’d drawn straws to see who’d end up in what rooms since we were down to seven contestants. Brodie had the Power room, of course. Marla and Jendan had taken the Queen room, and Sunnie offered to pile into the Mirror room with Jayme and Fido because she was scared to sleep in the Attic room by herself. We weren’t in pairs anymore, but people felt comfortable with their partners.
Brodie was practically doing flips with excitement as he waited to get the key. There was always a delay in the passing of the key from one team to another, as crews moved in to clean the room between occupants and filled it with personal items that the winning cast member would enjoy. So he waited in the living room, chatting with the others enthusiastically and laughing at some of the jokes Fido was telling.
I wasn’t feeling particularly social, though. As we waited for a room, I grabbed my bag, stuffed full of my things, and headed to the bathrooms to see if anything could be done with my hair.
I refuse to look ugly on national TV, Sunnie had said.
I showered to wash the stiff gel out of my hair, changed into my favorite yoga pants and a sloppy t-shirt, and then played with my wet hair. If I brushed it all to one side, it didn’t look like a mohawk so much. Mostly like it was shaved on one side and then just long on the other. It made my face look long and skinny, though.
I hated it. I’d loved my long hair.
And I’d cut it all for nothing. I hadn’t even won the challenge.
“Got the keys,” Brodie called out to me from the living room. “Come on, Kandis!”
Giving my horrible hair one last unhappy look in the mirror, I shouldered my bag and headed back out to the others, trying to mask my misery.
Everyone was heading up the stairs to check out Brodie’s room, so I followed them up silently. I hung in the back as everyone crowded in, admiring the decor. The room was switched up depending on who won, and the room today was set up in a 70s psychedelic funk. A thick white faux-fur carpet was on the ground, and an enormous bed filled the center of the room. Black light posters hung on the walls, and lava lamps were on each dresser. Ropes of beads hung in the doorway from the bedroom to the private bathroom. A mini-fridge complete with a basket of food was in one corner.
“Swanky,” Fido said with a grin. “It’s like they knew your personality, man.”
“70s p*rn star?” Jendan joked.
Brodie just laughed. “They must have picked this stuff with me in mind.” He thumped a finger on a lava lamp and then glanced over at me.
I was silent as the others chatted and laughed, examining Brodie’s room and picking through his things. They exclaimed over the basket of treats and the fridge full of beer, and it was like a party all over again. I sat down on the edge of the bed with my bag and grabbed one of the fringed pillows, hugging it as I watched the others. They drank beer, ate Brodie’s chips, and laughed and chatted for what seemed like forever.
After a time, Brodie yawned and then waved at the door. “Okay, time for me to go to sleep. All ya’ll get out of here.” He sent them out with bottles of beer to assuage any hard feelings, and finally the door was closed after the last person.
When we were alone, he turned to me where I sat on the bed. “You okay, Kandis?”
I nodded, lying. I wasn’t okay, but it also wasn’t something I could describe to a guy. I feel ugly and stupid because we cut my hair into this horrible mess and I got nothing out of it. I’d heard that there was shock after you cut long hair, and right now, I was feeling pretty devastated.
And even though I told myself I wouldn’t cry, a tear trailed down my cheek. Angry, I swiped it away.
“Hey, hey,” Brodie said, concerned. He slid closer to me on the bed and pulled me against him. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just being stupid,” I told him shakily, rubbing my hands on my face to wipe it clean. “Just ignore me.”
“I can’t ignore you, Kandis. Not when you’re crying. Tell me what’s wrong. I’m your partner.” He looked so earnest that I softened. Was this just another mask worn by deceitful, lying Brodie Short? The roguish devil out to claw his way to the top and get the money?
The thought of his kindness being an act hurt to think about.
He gave me a squeeze of encouragement, his muscular arms around me. “Are you homesick? Did someone say something awful to you?”
I shook my head.
“Are you crying because you drank snails?”
I laughed, though it came out as a half-sob. “Thanks for reminding me.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” he said with an easy grin. “To be your partner and make you laugh.”
“We’re not partners anymore,” I pointed out sourly.
“As far as I’m concerned, we’re partners until one of us cashes that million dollar check. Now seriously, what’s wrong, Kandis? You’re worrying me.”
“It’s silly,” I said in a shaky voice. “But…I hate my hair.”
To his credit, he didn’t laugh. “Your hair was really pretty.”
That just made me feel worse. “It was,” I said, and began to weep all over again. “And now I’m ugly, and it’s worse because I’m on national TV.”
“You’re not ugly,” Brodie soothed. His hand rubbed up and down my back, comforting me even as he hugged me close.
“Sunnie said she didn’t do it because she didn’t want to be ugly.”
He snorted. “Sunnie didn’t do it because it would mess up her extensions. You think all that red hair is natural? Please.”
I wrinkled my nose. “You think?”
“Yeah. That’s why she never gets her hair wet when she swims. You just watch her.”
I nodded and pressed my cheek to his chest, inhaling his scent. Brodie smelled like a hint of sweat and a delicious, musky, masculine scent. He smelled good. Comforting.
“Might I remind you that Sunnie flirts with every guy in this house, but no one takes her up on it?”
“Because she has the herp,” I murmured.
His hand paused mid-rub on my back. “That’s right. How did you know?”
“You told me when you were drunk.”
He chuckled. “Shit, she’s going to be pissed if that gets out on TV. I hope they don’t show me talking about that.”
I didn’t care if they did or not. I rubbed my cheek against Brodie’s shoulder and noticed that the shaved side of my head made a horrible rasping sound. My hand smoothed at my too-short hair. “This is an awful haircut.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t thrilled with it either.”
I thumped a hand on his chest. “Oh please. It looks good on you.”
“You think so?” Brodie mused. “Or are you just saying that to flatter my vanity?”
“It’s not all that different from your normal hair,” I told him. “You just had to shave it a bit closer on the sides and spike the top.” I began to tear up again. “It’s completely different for me.”
He hugged me again. “Don’t be sad, Kandis. I didn’t think Sunnie was going to do it as soon as I saw the picture, and I was surprised that you did. But I was also proud. You’re a fighter. You compete.”
“I didn’t get nak*d on TV,” I told him miserably.
“The only reason I did is so we could keep control. It wasn’t like I wanted to show everyone my ass.”
Whatever. Brodie had a fine ass. I was tempted to touch it right now, but that would just get me in trouble. My fingers twitched, though, as if needing to caress him. “Now you’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“No, I’m not. But I will tell you something,” Brodie said, and put a finger to my chin, lifting my head. My gaze met his. “Even with your hair cut like that, you’re the hottest girl in this house. Arguably the hottest girl I’ve ever met. And one of the bravest, sneakiest, and most determined.”
The flattery made me blink in surprise. My lips parted, and I wanted to say something to him. Thank him for being supportive. Deny his effusive praise. Something.
But I noticed his gaze had gone to my mouth, to my parted lips. And my breathing became shallow.
His thumb grazed my lower lip in an almost thoughtful manner.
I remained frozen in place, riveted by the tender touch. A surge of need washed through me, and I watched Brodie, trying to take my cues from him. I wished he showed his emotions on his face like I did.
Instead, that thumb continued to stroke my bottom lip, distracting me.
“Would it be bad if I kissed the prettiest woman in this house?” Brodie asked me, voice husky. His eyes were a deep, dark blue when he looked at me, dark with need. “You think she’d mind?”
I shivered at his words, feeling heat pulse through my body and settling between my hips. I should have told him no. Our partnership was based on friendship and a common bond of wanting to win the game. I didn’t trust him. How could I? I’d seen what he’d done with the cameras on him last season.