Chapter 2 Chapter 2
PRESENT DAY
“You're doing it again,” Mia remarked from beside me.
Keeping my eyes on the water, I slowly pulled the wax across my board. “Doing what?”
“Pretending Tyler doesn't exist,” she replied.
My hand stopped. Mia sat beside me in the sand, her knees against her chest, and sunglasses covering her eyes and absolutely no evidence on her face that she'd just said something deserving violence.
“I don't have to pretend,” I informed her, returning to the wax. “It's surprisingly easy.”
“Considering you've looked at him four times in the last ten minutes, I'm not sure easy is the word I'd use,” she pointed out.
“I was looking at Reeves,” I argued.
“Tyler was standing beside Reeves,” Mia reminded me.
“Coincidence,” I replied.
“Three of the four times?” she challenged.
Dropping the wax onto my towel, I turned toward her. “Don't you have somewhere else to be?”
“Nope,” she answered.
I raised an eyebrow. “Friends?”
“Just you,” she replied sweetly.
“Tragic,” I muttered.
Mia grinned, and naturally, I looked across the competition area again.
Tyler was still beside Reeves with his board beneath one arm, his blond hair damp from our warm-up.
Three weeks hadn't made seeing him normal. I'd been too pissed off that first morning to notice much beyond the fact that the seventeen-year-old boy I remembered had become a twenty-year-old man while I'd been busy hating him, but after training together every damn day, I'd rediscovered the way his mouth pulled to one side when he was trying not to laugh, how he shoved wet hair from his forehead and the irritating crease between his eyebrows whenever he concentrated.
None of those things should have mattered. My body remained remarkably uninterested in my opinion.
Tyler looked toward me, and when our eyes met, I immediately dropped mine to my board.
Mia laughed beside me.
“Not one word,” I warned, reaching for my leash.
“I didn't say anything,” she protested.
“You made a sound,” I pointed out.
“Are those illegal now too?” she asked.
“They are when I know what they mean,” I informed her.
Fastening the leash around my ankle, I stood and tucked my board beneath my arm.
The next heat was finishing; ours followed.
My first Pacific Crown event, my first international mixed-team exhibition and my first competitive heat beside Tyler Brookes in three years.
“You nervous?” Mia asked, standing beside me.
“Yes,” I admitted.
Her eyebrows climbed above her sunglasses. “You just admitted it.”
“I admit things,” I argued.
“Not that,” she countered.
Rolling my eyes, I looked toward the water.
“Heaven.” I knew Tyler's voice before I turned, which remained irritating too.
He stopped several feet away with his board beneath his arm. “Reeves wants us.”
Glancing toward the staging area, I found Reeves near the water. “Then he can wave.”
“He did,” Tyler replied.
“I wasn't looking,” I informed him.
One side of his mouth started to move.
“Don't,” I warned.
His eyebrows rose. “Don't what?”
“Whatever you were about to say,” I replied.
“I wasn;t saying anything,” he argued.
“You were thinking about it,” I accused.
Mia made a choking noise, and when Tyler glanced toward her, she lifted both hands. “I'm not involved.”
“Liar,” I muttered, starting toward Reeves.
Tyler fell into step beside me, and apparently three weeks of training together had been enough for my body to learn exactly how close he could walk before I became aware of him.
Today, that distance seemed farther than usual.
Reeves waited near the water with a clipboard beneath his arm, his gaze moving between us as we approached.
“You two done fighting?” he asked.
“We weren't fighting,” Tyler replied.
I turned toward him. “We weren't?”
His gaze slid toward mine. “Not by our standards.”
Unfortunately, he wasn't wrong.
“Wonderful,” Reeves muttered before crouching and drawing two lines through the sand. “Conditions shifted during the last round. Sets are breaking farther north and coming in uneven, so don't chase everything that moves.”
“Priority?” I asked, lowering my board.
“Standard rotation, but your combined score matters more than either individual ride,” Reeves explained, tapping one line. “Bailey, you're stronger on the right today. Brookes, take the left if it opens.”
Tyler crouched beside him. “If the second set comes in like the last one, Heaven should take the first wave.”
My attention snapped toward him. “I can decide which wave I take.”
Tyler looked up. “I know you can.”
“Then don't decide for me,” I challenged.
His jaw tightened as he stood. “I was talking strategy.”
“So talk to me, not around me,” I shot back.
Reeves slowly straightened.
Probably wise.
“I was standing right here, Heaven,” Tyler pointed out.
“So was I,” I reminded him.
The announcer called the final minute of the current heat, but neither of us looked away.
“We don't have time for this,” Tyler muttered.
A laugh escaped me. “There's a sentence I remember.”
Something tightened around his eyes before disappearing.
Reeves stepped between us. “Whatever happened three years ago isn't getting into the water with you today. You want to hate each other afterward, knock yourselves out, but for the next twenty minutes, you're partners.”
My fingers tightened around my board while Tyler looked toward the water.
Neither of us argued.
The horn sounded.
“Bailey. Brookes,” the marshal called, lifting one hand. “You're up.”
My stomach tightened as Tyler moved first, and I followed him toward the water.
We reached the surf before he stopped, and after taking another step, I turned.
“What?” I asked.
Tyler watched the break. “The current's pulling harder north than it was during warm-up.”
“I noticed,” I replied.
“I know,” he murmured.
My jaw tightened. “Then why are you telling me?”
His eyes met mine. “Because if we get separated, don't fight it. Let it carry you past the first section and I'll come across.”
Every muscle around my right shoulder tightened. His gaze dropped toward it.
“Heaven…” he started.
“No,” I cut in.
“I wasn't going to…” he began.
“I know how to handle a current, Tyler,” I interrupted.
His jaw flexed. “That's not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” I demanded.
Another wave rushed around our legs, and Tyler glanced toward the water. “We have to work together out there.”
A laugh slipped out of me, although nothing about it felt funny. “You probably should've thought about that three years ago.”
His expression closed.
The horn sounded from shore.
Our heat had begun.
Dropping my board into the water, I started forward.
“Heaven,” Tyler called behind me.
I ignored him and climbed onto my board, but before I could paddle, his hand caught the rail.
My head snapped toward him.
Tyler released it immediately, something moving through his expression before he stepped backward.
“I know you don't trust me,” he admitted quietly.
My fingers curled around the sides of my board as I held his gaze. “Good. That saves us time.” Then I started paddling.
Water splashed behind me as Tyler followed, but I didn't look back because three years ago, I'd gone into the water with Tyler Brookes believing there wasn't another person in the world I trusted more.
Today I knew better.
