“Good luck getting past the producers. I have a feeling they’d rather let us freeze if it means getting more shots of everyone in their swimsuits,” Jett pointed out with a gesture at the other nearby contestants, all of whom were still in their bikinis and trunks too. Showing some skin made for higher ratings, especially when half the cast was made up of celebrities with their own individual cult followings. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the crew had even set up bouncers to keep them from getting back to their rooms until the end of the night. The trade-off for spending the summer in Malibu was that they had to sell their souls to the cameras, after all.

He took Anna’s hand when she offered it and walked with her over to the food line. “It’s a buffet, so I’ll probably try to have a little of everything,” he replied, eyeing a tray loaded with kalua pork. His dietician would murder him if he went crazy and gained ten pounds before he came back to New York, but five wouldn’t be too bad, right? He was sure the producers would have them doing all sorts of active games while they were staying at the beachside mansion anyway. He could have a big dinner and worry about burning it off the next time they were called to compete for immunity.

True to his word, he stacked a plate with everything from barbeque meats to sliced pineapple to bread rolls and then swiped an exotic looking cocktail off the end of the counter for good measure. With a veritable feast in hand, he turned back to Anna and tipped his head in the direction of the outdoor fireplace, where a few of the other cast members were already congregating. “I think I’ll hang out over here. Want me to take your plate for you while you go on your quest to change clothes? I’ve got enough of my own food that I won’t eat yours. Scout’s honor.”