He shimmies, which pulls the two women against him and Orson.
The girls smile.
Orson’s eyeballs nearly launch out of his skull. He locks up, still as a mannequin.
“Each squad’s got their bodies bound and their hands taped like freakin’ flippers. First team to break free SCORES BIG TIME! Champagne! Chocolate strawberries too, baby. And, wait for it, a couple's massage tonight IN YOUR ROOM!”
All the singles lose it, screaming with the hysteria of newly minted millionaires.
Blaze bumps Orson with his shoulder. “BROSEIDON, We are LOCKING DOWN that massage! Get HYPED!”
Orson nods with grim sincerity. “I do enjoy strawberries.”
The girls cozy up to him with giggles. Orson gulps so loudly it echoes through the speakers.
The livestream chat starts scrolling like a slot machine:
NERD IN DISTRESS
SAVE HIM
Blaze is collecting wives
WHY IS THE SCIENTIST SO STIFF
“FLIPPERS UP!” Blaze shouts. “READY. SET. GO!”
The lawn explodes into motion.
Couples everywhere start hopping, wiggling, twisting, shrieking with laughter as they try to untangle themselves without hands. One couple instantly tips over sideways into the grass. A guy tries to ‘Hulk out’ of the ropes and lifts his partner onto his back like a backpack. Another duo kicks off a conga line, dragging nearby couples into the tangled mess.
Donations ping across my screen.It’s happening, people! My win!
“I’m curious, Stopwatch. How fast could you get free if we were tied up together?” Cole’s voice rasps into my headphones.
The low rumble of his voice vibrates through me.Ugh, I hate how much I like it.The thought of his hands on me. Being tied up. His body pinning mine while I rub up against him.
My stomach flips.
I grit my teeth against the shiver. “Cole, try to be professional for once.”
“That’s not an answer.”
On screen, a busty blonde in a yellow bikini grinds against Orson like he’s a stripper pole at a bachelorette party.
“I would like to be done now,” he mumbles.
Blaze whoops. “Ohhh, he’s READY TO WIN! Ladies, move those hips. FASTER!”
The girls squirm and writhe harder. Orson’s eyes roll to the back of his head.
“Well, Stopwatch, what’s your answer?”
“I’d have those ropes off before you could count to two,” I say.
“Nah.” His chuckle rumbles in my ear. “You’d overanalyze which knot to undo first.”
“And you’d hesitate. Like this morning.”
