Our eyes meet and a small crack forms in the wall of tension between us.

Beast returns—alone—and finishes getting the final bets in. Then Jude gets the crowd’s attention once again with his megaphone.

“It’s time to reveal the details of tonight’s shenanigans. As you can see, we have here a pool full of whipped cream. Hiding somewhere inside are two pieces of bubble gum. The challenge for our competitors will be to locate the gum in the pool. The first person to find a piece and blow a bubble will be our day-one winner. The catch . . .” His eyes find ours. “You cannot use your hands.”

Reese’s lips are pressed into a white line, her face even paler than before.

I put a hand on her arm. “It will be okay,” I murmur.

She looks at my hand and then pulls away, not meeting my eyes. “It would be better if we weren’t friends.”

Maybe Jude’s right. Not as weak as she seems.

“Fine.” I stalk toward the pool, ignoring the brush of disappointment at her words. She’s right. We are in a competition.

Jude stages us on either side of the pool, then hands us each a set of goggles. I pull mine on and watch through the wavy lenses as Reese struggles to yank hers over her braids.

“Are we ready?” he yells into the megaphone, riling up the crowd.

Cheers and whoops and hollers fill the air.

“It begins with one blow.” He holds up the whistle.

“Title of your sex tape!” someone in the crowd calls out, instigating a chorus of groans and laughter.

“All right, all right, you animals.” Jude waves a hand to shush them. He turns and meets my eyes, then his gaze switches to Reese. “Ready?” he asks in a low volume.

We nod.

“Set,” he says louder.

I keep my gaze on Jude as he lifts the metal whistle to his mouth.

The shrill sound pierces the air.

Reese shocks me by flinging herself full force into the pool, sending foam flying, faster than a bee-stung stallion.

The surprise puts me at a disadvantage and I dive in a split second after her.

Just before white fluff covers my goggles, I get a flash of her determined face, eyes closed, mouth chomping, body twisting like a champ.

I was not expecting her to be so aggressive. I want to laugh but if I don’t focus, I’m gonna end up on the couch tonight.

I can’t see anything. The goggles might be protecting my irises from sugar overload but the plastic is quickly coated in goop. I know I can’t use my hands, but he said nothing about feet. I feel around, wiggling the rest of my body into the pool, concentrating on the sensations and attempting to locate the piece of gum.

The space is small—no more than five or six feet across. My long limbs are already squished and I get the occasional jab from Reese. Mostly unintentional . . . I think. Except for one hard, purposeful knee to the ribs.