I Dare Ya

We are both 24 years old. Definitely not kids anymore. So why does he still have the ability to goad me into just about anything with just three little words? Jimmy’s “I dare ya,” is something I’ve never been able to refuse. Best friends since kindergarten, we’ve gotten each other into more trouble with those words than I can tell you. And today is no different.

I close the padlock to safeguard all my things – keys, purse, glasses, clothes. Yes, I said clothes. We’ve heard stories for years about the nudist resort just 20 miles north of town, but until today neither of us have ever considered going there. “I dare ya,” he said. And just like that, we were in the car and on our way.

I grab my beach towel, trying hard to resist the urge to wrap it around myself. I look around and see naked men and women casually milling about the changeroom. Communal change rooms didn’t stop us from picking opposite corners of the large changing area to disrobe.

“No big deal,” I mutter. I take a deep breath and turn the corner to join Jimmy and head outside.

Jimmy is standing there in nothing but the skin God gave him, grinning like a 12-year-old. I try to keep my eyes on his and not let them stray. Nineteen years of friendship, camp-outs, sleepovers, and vacation hotels, and neither of us has ever slipped and shown anything we shouldn’t. We never played “show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” At least, not with each other. Our relationship was never like that. And now we’re standing here naked as jaybirds.

“Geez, Annie, you’re so red you look like you already got sunburnt!”

“Gimme a break,” I counter, “I’ve never done this before!”

Jimmy chuckles and turns to the door. “Come on, it doesn’t count unless you actually sit on the beach for at least an hour.” I reluctantly follow him into the sunshine, squinting against the glare. Spotting a couple of deck chairs close to the water, he grabs my hand and pulls me to them before someone else can get there first. “You got sunscreen on?” He asks.

“Practically a whole bottle’s worth,” I answer, “Some of these parts have never seen the sun and I definitely don’t want a burn.” Jimmy glances down involuntarily and I know he’s thinking the same thing. Instinctively my gaze follows his but an instant later I turn my head to look anywhere else.

Laying my towel on the chair, I try to get comfortable. Not such an easy task when I feel more vulnerable than I ever have. Soon, though, I realize that nobody is stopping to stare. Nobody is shocked. Because they’re all just as naked as we are. These people are clearly comfortable in this setting and are drinking and chatting and laughing together as if nothing were more normal. I close my eyes and feel the warmth of the sun on my face. And everywhere, yes EVERYWHERE, else.

The silence between me and Jimmy is palpable. We are both big talkers and almost never run out of conversation, but we are both at a loss for words now.

Just when I’ve decided it’s time to turn over and tan my back, a pretty waitress with a deep all-over tan comes by to see if we want anything to drink.

“Just water, please,” I say, practically into the chair. But she barely even notices me. Her eyes never leave Jimmy as she lists the various beers and snacks she would be “super happy” to bring him. Surely, this girl sees hundreds of naked men every day, but she’s flirting with Jimmy like he’s the first guy she’s ever seen. Finally, she heads back to the bar to get the food and beer he ordered for both of us despite my claim to want only water. He knows me too well. I’m not even sure if the waitress registered the fact he ordered two of everything as she never even glanced my way. I give Jimmy a sidelong glance and see it’s now his turn to be blushing. He’s also balled up his towel and is holding it in his lap. I pretend not to notice.

The beers come soon enough, along with wings dripping in barbecue sauce. Before long we have both dripped sauce on ourselves, as we always do with wings. I carefully lick my fingers and Jimmy starts to laugh. Within moments he is laughing so hard he can barely breathe. I have no idea what he’s laughing about but it’s infectious just the same, and we are both in tears from it. Finally, the laughing peters out to giggles, and we catch our breath.

“No worries about staining our clothes,” he finally manages, and we are lost in another fit of laughter.

The waitress swings by to take our empty plates and tries everything she can to get Jimmy’s attention but he’s having none of it. She finally looks my way and her eyes are full of scorn as we help each other with the sticky wing mess.

As the sun dips down low in the sky, we gather our things and go back to the change room. Clothed like regular people once more, we head to the car and drive back to town.

“What do you say we make this a regular thing this summer?” he asks, without daring to look my way.

I smile and just say, “Sure,” in the most casual way I can.

I watch the sun set as we drive and marvel at the rich colours. Funny how you can suddenly notice something you’ve seen a hundred times and see it in a completely new way.

I take a deep breath and ask, “So, do you mean going to the nudist resort should be a regular thing or us seeing each other naked?” I hold my breath and the silence goes on for a long time. Maybe I’ve overstepped.

Finally, quietly, he says, “Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin a good friendship, but if you’re really interested… I mean… I would be willing…”

I turn to him and grin. “I dare ya.”