he morning starts off cold and wet. It takes longer than usual to weave through the traffic, so by the time I make it to the track, I'm seven minutes late. I push my bike toward the circuit, where Tyler is getting soaked in the rain, arguing with Alex.

The pair of them turn when I approach. Tyler folds his arms at me, his dark hair wet and sticking to his forehead. His face is littered with tiny raindrops, and he runs his palm down his face to get rid of them.

"Hey," he says. "I've filled Alex in on the new plan. She's cool with it. Right, Lex?"

He nudges her with his shoulder, forcing her to glare at him. Slowly, she turns to me and forces a smile. "I'll catch up with you during your shift later." She heads back to the patio without waiting for my response, leaving me feeling nervous.

"I don't want to get involved," I say, turning to Tyler. It's hard not to notice how good he looks standing in the rain, like a guy from one of those boyband posters that used to cover my bedroom walls. "Whatever issues you have with each other, keep me out of it."

He raises an eyebrow. "Noted. You still want to ride in this?"

"I'm not scared to get wet, if that's what you mean."

He hides a smirk by flicking down his goggles. "We'll stop if it gets worse. Riding in the mud can really screw up the bearings in your bike."

I swing a leg over my bike and watch as he does the same. I'm not used to such temperamental weather but, like this town, it's starting to grow on me.

"All right, I'm going to ride behind you," Tyler says. "I need to get a feel for your technique–your weak spots."

I don't like the idea of him looking for my weak spots, but I suppose that's the point of this circuit. If I want to get better, I need to iron out the kinks. A crack of thunder rumbles in the sky. I ignore it and start slow, working my way down the track while Tyler rides behind me.

My heart pounds in anticipation. In some ways, riding a bike is like poetry in motion. The power starts in the engine, flowing through my thighs and up through my body, all the way to my wrists and hands. It hums through my skin, purring like a steady heartbeat. The front and rear tire contract to the soil, highly tuned to my movements. Sometimes, when I'm riding, I swear it's not me controlling the bike, but the bike controlling me.

I spend the next few laps showing off. I figure if Tyler is going to be judging me, I might as well go all out. We go a few laps before he powers ahead and signals to me. He heads to the finish line and slows to a stop, so I pull up beside him. When we pull off our helmets, I expect him to smile, but his expression is business-like.

"First thing we need to fix is that leg," he says.

I'm truly offended. "What's wrong with my legs?"

He slowly lowers his gaze to my thighs. "Nothing, physically." His eyes flit back up again. "You're hanging your inside leg and letting it dab through a corner. You also stand for too long on your jumps, which is cutting into your speed. I could go on, but we'll work on fixing those first."

My eyes darken. I'll admit, I have never been good at constructive criticism. "Don't you have anything good to say?"

He stares at me for a second too long. He seems different when he's in Motocross mode. More serious. "If I didn't have anything good to say, I wouldn't be training you."

It's a breadcrumb of a compliment, but my heart jumps anyway. "What now?"

His eyes rake over me. "You work out?"

"Excuse me?"

"At the gym," he says, as though it is obvious. "You need to be supplementing your riding with regular weight sessions."

"Not since moving here," I say, "but I'm going to start."

"C'mon," he says, climbing off his bike. "I'll show you around."

He leads me through the building next to the bar. The office is fancy, all sleek and glass, with a big reception counter. He takes me through some hallways and into the small gym. "It's members and staff only," he says. "You should make use of it whenever you can. Sauna and steam room, too. It'll help with any muscle pain."

"It's nice," I say, and I mean it. This place isn't just a track like back home, it's a gym and spa, too. "Means I won't have to join a separate gym."

"There are showers in the locker rooms if you need them," he says. "You have to bring your own towel and a lock for the lockers, but I've never had anything stolen without one."

He spends the next thirty minutes showing me how to use the different equipment. I know how to use the majority of stuff, but I let him go through it all, anyway.

"Your parents good with this?" he asks when he's finished. "You training for the tournament, I mean."

"Yeah," I say. "That's probably down to the fact I haven't told them, though."

He frowns a little. "You shouldn't lie to them."

"What are you, the moral police?"

He grins, and it does something strange to my stomach. "Just giving you advice, sirenita."

"Unsolicited advice," I say sweetly. "My favorite kind."

He shakes his head, still grinning, and I follow him back to our bikes. The rain has eased up, leaving behind a wet, earthy smell. Tyler looks over. "You're covered in mud." Without a word, he reaches out and uses his thumb to gently wipe my cheek.

I ignore the tiny flip of my heart. "I should probably go home and shower before the start of my shift."

He smiles a little. "Probably. You good with training at the same time tomorrow?"

I nod and say goodbye before grabbing my bike, walking it over to the road. The whole ride home, I think about how good it had felt to ride in the rain. How good it had felt to ride, period. It seems absurd to think I'd denied myself this feeling for nearly eight months; I can't imagine going this long without riding ever again.

The second I get home and step into the shower, my body sings. The hot water pounds my aching muscles, washing off rain and mud. I watch as brown water circles the drain before being sucked away.

Training with Tyler wasn't as bad as I'd imagined it to be, either. As much as I hate the idea of being judged and assessed, I know that I need it if I want to compete. Not just compete, but beat him.

Mom insists on driving me to the track for my shift. She's furious I'd ridden in the rain, and now I'm officially banned. I tell her she's overreacting as she pulls up to the track, and she says, "Tell that to your father."

With a kiss on her cheek, I climb out and head up to the patio, where Alex is busy serving racers awaiting the evening circuit. They don't seem to mind the drizzle and the wet, but I understand why–the only thing that matters is the ride.

I hurry into the back and slip on my apron before turning around. Alex is leaning on the doorframe watching me. "Hey," I say softly. "Listen, are you sure you're okay with Tyler training me? It was his idea, but if you're not cool with it–"

"It's not that," she says. She walks toward me, her dark eyes searching mine. "I mean it is, but not for the reasons you think." She sighs, and I notice the way her mouth naturally tilts down at the corners. "He's only doing this to piss me off. He's annoyed I went behind his back to train a potential competitor. Thinks I'm purposely trying to sabotage him."

I raise an eyebrow. "Are you?"

"Yes." She smirks. "God, you don't know what it was like growing up with him. Everything we did had to be a competition, and he'd always win. I've never been good enough to race with him, but after watching you, I figured you might be. I told him as much, and he didn't like it."

"So, what," I say, "his solution was to train me? That doesn't make sense."

"It's not just me who thinks it," she says. "Some of the guys here have been teasing Tyler about his new competition, so now his ego is bruised and he's trying to prove a point." She shakes her head like the whole thing is ridiculous, and I agree.

"And what point is that?" I ask.

"That he could train you himself and you still wouldn't beat him. He's doing it because he's an egotistical jerk who needs to be better than everyone at everything."

My body prickles with heat. "He can think that if he wants to, I don't care. I'm here to work, train and compete. Everything else is just background noise."

Her full lips pull into a beautiful smile. "Let's get to work, then."

❤️

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