“Yo, science queen. You in?” Blaze points at Sienna.
She arches one eyebrow. “Hard pass.”
“Respect,” Blaze says solemnly, then immediately starts scanning for replacements.
Shit!This is the moment. My one chance to stop this crazy, bad idea before it becomes my problem. My very public, very catastrophic problem.
Four people roped together. Covered in baby oil. Hands taped. On stage.
My brain delivers its verdict instantly:absolutely not.
That’s not an activity. It’s a sexual harassment lawsuit on a livestream.Dare4Change could suffer a major policy violation if things go wrong.
Then, a worse thought.
What would Cole do?
Cole’s mouth is already opening.
Nope. I’m getting the credit this time.
“Yes, great idea!” I say loudly. “Let’s do it.”
Blaze lights up like I’ve handed him fireworks and a lighter. “HELL yeah, Ivy gets it!”
Orson smooths his hands on his pants. “I shall participate, reluctantly, for the greater good of science.” Blaze drags Orson offstage in search of prospects.
I flash Cole a smug little smirk as I walk past him.
It’s a good one, too. A smirk that says I outplayed you and we both know it.
Hello, new Ivy.InstinctIvy. The Ivy who makes reckless calls.
I’m halfway across the lawn when I feel his gaze on me. I glance back.
Cole hasn’t moved. His steel blue eyes are watching me as his camera dangles at his side.
That storm brewing in that glare can only mean one thing.
He’s pissed.
I just out-Cole’d Cole.
The thought lights me up as I reach the production canopy.
I plop into the folding chair, slap on my headset, and try to embrace the hot plastic seat as it suction-cups to the back of my thighs, again.
The warm, salty ocean breeze rolls in. The air is electric with couples’ flirty laughter and sunscreen, and the smell of baby oil that someone definitely opened early.
Blaze’s feed fills my monitors: him, Orson, and two busty volunteers tangled into a sexy shipwreck of rope. The staff finishes them off with tape, pressing fingers flat until all eight hands become useless little paddles.
Flipper hands.
“Bark bark,” Blaze announces into the lav mic.
The crowd loves it. Orson stares at his own taped hands as though they’ve been declared a biohazard.
I run through my pre-live checklist. Donation banner: confirmed. Camera feeds: up. Blaze’s lav mic: hot. Cole’s camera: roving.
