She reluctantly does

"I guess I could..." Sophia relented.

"Oh. My. God. This will be so fun!"

Emma clapped her wet hands together like Sophia had just agreed to a round of cards. The other two grinned in a way that made Sophia's stomach drop. She stayed in the water up to her chest, arms crossed over her breasts, and waited for the catch.

"It's nothing crazy," Emma said, already talking over her. "We need to know if a pledge could even handle a little walk. You get out, you go to that chair, you get the towel. That's it. We're right here. It's empty."

Sophia followed her nod. The white lounge chair sat at the far end of the main pool, a lonely bright thing against the fake jungle wall. The towel that had started this whole mess was draped over it. Thirty seconds of wet tile. Then she could wrap up and leave this behind her.

"And then I get the towel."

"Then you get the towel," Emma promised. "We're not monsters."

Sophia did not believe that, but she believed the towel. She glanced at the doors, at the few heads already in the water, at the empty deck. If she stayed in the pool she would be naked forever. If she did this, she would be naked for a walk.

She climbed out.

Water sheeted off her. It ran between her breasts, over the little swell of her belly, down her wide hips and along her thighs, and there was nowhere for it to hide. She had meant to come up in a crouch. Instead her foot slipped on the tile and she had to stand, fully, to catch herself. For a second she was just... there. Short, stocky, dripping, every bit of her on show under the tropical lights. Emma made a delighted sound that she did not even try to swallow.

Sophia's hands snapped into place, one across her chest, the other pressed hard between her legs. It did almost nothing. Her hips were too wide. Her ass was just out. Her nipples were still visible at the edges of her arm. She knew that. She did it anyway.

"Okay. Chair. I'm going."

"Hands down would be more authentic," one of the others offered.

"I'm getting the towel," Sophia said, and started walking before they could turn that into a rule.

The deck was longer than it had looked from the water. Each step slapped. Her wet hair clung to her neck and would not cover anything. She kept her eyes on the chair and still felt every glance from the pool: a guy pausing mid-stroke, a woman on the opposite edge going quiet. Sophia's face burned. She told herself they were only seeing a nude girl for a moment, that she would be wrapped in red terry cloth before it became a story. Her body did not care. She was throbbing from the walk alone, which made her even angrier at herself.

She reached the chair. She grabbed for the towel.

Her hand closed on nothing. The fabric was already gone. She spun around, covering herself all over again, and found Emma holding it up from the water like a prize, dripping, grinning.

"Circuit," Emma called, not even loud. "You have to bring it back to the start. That's the whole try-out. Pledges can't just grab and go. Come on, you're halfway."

Sophia stared at her. The walk back was the same walk, only now she was further from the water and everyone who had pretended not to look was definitely looking. She could refuse. She would still be standing here naked, and they would still have the towel.

She started back.

That was when the doors opened.

It was not one person. It was a noise: bags, shoes, a coach's voice, twenty bodies pouring onto the deck in college kit. The sports class. The one she had almost signed up for. Boys and girls her age, some of them definitely from her building, laughing about being late, heading for the water like they owned the morning. They got three steps in and stopped.

Sophia stopped too. She was in the middle of the tiles, nowhere near the chair, nowhere near Emma, with nothing on but the locker key on her wrist. Her hands were doing their useless job. Water ticked off her elbows onto the floor.

Nobody spoke for a second. Then somebody did, a short shocked laugh, and it spread. Phones came up. The coach said something about watching where they were going and did not look away. Sophia wanted the pool so badly she could taste it, but turning around would have given them her ass, and the class was between her and the showers anyway.

From the water, Emma's voice, bright and helpful:

"You're fine! Just finish! It's a dare, she's fine!"

That was the worst thing she could have said. It made it sound like Sophia had asked for this. A girl in the front row actually relaxed, like the explanation had turned a crime into a show. Sophia heard her own name, or something close to it. Anthropology. Blonde. The short one.

"I need the towel," Sophia said. It came out small.

"Then come get it," Emma said, and she was glowing. They all were. This was the part they had wanted. They had never needed to announce it.

Sophia walked.

There was no way to do it quickly without looking like she was fleeing, and fleeing would have meant jogging nude through them. She picked her way along the edge, one wet foot after the other, trying to keep her breasts covered and her pussy covered and failing at both whenever she had to steady herself. The class parted only enough to let her through. They did not turn their backs. She felt air on her nipples, on the curve of her belly, on the cleft of her ass. Someone whispered that she was actually doing it. Someone else told them to stop filming and did not stop looking. The coach had given up on herding anyone into the water.

It went on. That was the thing. It was not a flash. She had to keep walking, keep being seen, keep choosing the next step while a whole group of her peers stood there and took her in from the front, then the side, then, when she passed, from behind. Her thighs brushed. She was so wet it had nothing to do with the pool. She hated that they might notice. She was sure they noticed.

By the time she reached Emma's end, her arms were shaking. Emma was still in the water, the towel bunched in one hand, held just far enough out that Sophia would have to uncover herself to take it.

"Please," Sophia said.

Emma looked past her, at the class, and smiled like they were all sharing something. "You did so good. Stay there a second. Pledges have to hold the finish."

Sophia stayed. She had not been given a choice that felt like one. The towel was a wet red blob a foot from her hip and she could not close the gap without letting go of her breasts or her pussy. Behind her the sports class had not gone into the water. They had arranged themselves without anyone asking them to, a loose semicircle, phones still up. Someone told her she could relax. Someone else laughed.

"Emma."

"Ten seconds. That's the whole extra bit. We have to know they wouldn't bolt."

Ten seconds was a lie. Sophia counted. She got to twelve, then twenty. A drop of water ran down her spine and into the cleft of her ass and she felt it the whole way. She tried to inch closer. Emma drifted back, still smiling, the towel dripping onto the tile between them.

"Uh-uh. Finish means finish. Hands stay."

One of the other two splashed, delighted. "She is actually doing it."

The coach asked, not quietly, whether this was going to take all morning. Emma called back that they were almost done, that Sophia was a good sport, that nobody needed to get the staff. That last part was for Sophia. If someone fetched a lifeguard, this became a report. If nobody did, it stayed a dare, and she stayed naked in the middle of it.

Emma lifted the towel a little, as if offering it, then folded it against her own chest. "Turn around first. They should see your face. Then you can have it."

Sophia shook her head. Emma did not move. The class filled the silence for her: a whistle, her name again, a comment about her hips that she would hear in a lecture hall later whether she wanted to or not. She turned. Slowly, because there was no way to do it without giving them her breasts, then her belly, then the hand mashed between her legs. They had already seen it. They got to see it again, on purpose, while she waited.

"Okay," she said, facing them, voice thin. "Okay. Towel."

Emma held it out. Sophia reached. Emma pulled it back, laughing, not even mean about it, as if this were still the small joke from the water. "Sorry! Reflex. Come on, one more step."

Sophia was shaking. The exit was a straight wet line to her left. The towel was still in Emma's hand. The class had closed a little without meaning to, or meaning to. She could lunge for the fabric and hope Emma let her keep it. She could also just run, and be naked in the parking lot, and at least not be standing here anymore.