We watched one contestant after another glide to the center of the stage, strike a front pose, move to the back for a second pose, then return to the front for their final one.
Afterward, they took a short break to prepare for the duet round.
One contestant’s act involved trying to pass her modeling finesse on to her overly enthusiastic protégé. He wore a minuscule leopard-print Speedo that barely survived his weightlifter’s build.
To the crowd’s delight, he strutted across the stage, almost pulling it off—until he stumbled and went down.
The audience erupted into laughter as the curtains closed on him.
“Well that was unique. Not sure he’s going to take out the prize though,” I said with a grin. “Bro, grab us some drinks.”
Dyson rolled his eyes. “Fine. But you’re getting the next round. If I’m still here that is.” His gaze locked onto a striking red-haired woman before he headed for the bar.
My gaze swept around the room. The place was packed. Music blasted through the speakers between performances, stopping when the curtain started to draw back slowly.
This place is fully insane. I’m glad Dyson insisted—
My breath stalled as the lights lit up the next contestant, like I’d taken a hit I hadn’t seen coming.
My gaze locked on her.
She stood there, impossible to look away from, lit from within.
Her gold bikini shimmered against sun-kissed skin, her full lips curving into a radiant smile as she scanned the crowd.
My heart kicked hard against my chest as a pull unlike anything I’d ever known gripped me.
Who is she?
The second her gaze connected with mine, something inside me shifted.
The noise around me faded as time slowed.
There was just her. I couldn’t have looked away if I’d tried.
But I didn’t.
***
IVY
“My feet arekillingme in these heels,” I said to Olivia, one of my roommates and a curve model competing alongside metonight. “Stepping onto the runway in five-inch stilettos is not for the fainthearted. I’m this close to swapping them out for sneakers.” I grinned, holding my index finger and thumb so close they almost touched.
“That could probably work. If you make it a pair of stiletto sneakers,” she replied with a giggle.
I’d spent days exfoliating, moisturizing, hydrating, waxing, and tanning—every last detail to be camera-ready. And it felt amazing.
After what seemed like forever, the night that could change my life had finally arrived. The lights beyond the curtain glowed through a narrow gap. I took a seat, leaned back, and closed my eyes, letting my mind drift back a couple of years to the first time I’d waited for my name to be called at a competition…
From up on the stage, I could see sunbathers sprawling across the white sand while a group of teenagers kicked a ball near the shoreline.
The crowd’s roar cut through the salty air as waves crashed behind them. A dozen of us stood shoulder-to-shoulder on the makeshift platform in bikinis while the judge tapped the microphone, sending a crackle vibrating through the speakers.
“Finally, folks, the moment we’ve been waiting for!” He peeked down at the card. “The winner of this year’s Swimwear Contest is… Katarina Harrington.” The crowd erupted.
Katarina pressed her hands to her cheeks, gliding to the front of the stage. The faint smile on her lips did little to disguise her boredom.
“Congratulations, Katarina,” said the judge, handing her a gleaming trophy. “You’ve won a contract with Baybe Swimwear and a two-thousand-dollar cash prize.”
