he night before the qualifying rounds, Tyler has me ride the circuit one last time. We've not talked about our night at the bar, nor acknowledged the fact he admitted to wanting to kiss me. We've just carried on training like that night at Mojack's never happened. It's been easy for the most part, but there are times, such as now, where I don't focus on the open track – I focus on him.

If Alex found out I was thinking like this, she'd tell me I was stupid. Don't fall for it, Roxy. Tyler's just looking for his next clueless conquest. And while the tiniest part of me would hope that she's wrong, she wouldn't be. Guys like Tyler only want one thing, and as soon as he gets it, he'll be looking for his next 'old friend'. Besides, fraternizing with someone I'm about to compete with would be a fool's error, and I refuse to jeopardize my chances for him.

When it starts to get late, I slow to a stop at the end of the track and pull up in front of him. He takes a step closer, lifting my goggles away from my face. "That was a perfect circuit," he says, and there's the tiniest glimmer of pride in his eyes.

"Thanks." I climb off my bike and park it in the bay before taking off my helmet. My hair tumbles out, grateful for the release, and falls down my back in knotty waves. Frowning, I run my fingers through the ends, but a strand gets caught in my jacket.

"Here," Tyler says. He moves toward me, gently unraveling the strand from my zipper. "So, are you nervous about tomorrow?"

It's the first chance I've given him to talk to me properly. Ever since that night, I've been acting like a skittish kitten, taking off any time the conversation starts to move away from racing. Now it's like I'm trapped.

"Yeah," I say, "but I'm trying not to think about it. It's just the qualifying round, right?"

"Right." He grins. "Piece of cake for someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

"Yeah." He shrugs. "Brave. Confident."

For some reason, it feels like he's describing someone else. "I'm not brave," I say. "I'm scared of lots of things."

"Like what?"

Like being alone with you. "Like nothing. I should probably get home."

His eyebrow arches. It looks like he wants to say something more, but I'm already heading to his bike. Now that I'm bikeless, he's been dropping me home after our midnight sessions, waiting until I'm safely inside before taking off, like he thinks I might be kidnapped. If I didn't know better, I might think he actually cares.

He slows to a stop at the end of my street, looking over his shoulder. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow, Sirenita."

I don't move. My arms are still around his waist, refusing to let go. "See you tomorrow." Reluctantly, I peel myself off him, mentally scolding myself for being so weak, and sneak back into my house.

he second I wake up, I'm hit with a feeling of nausea. I glance at my clock to see it's almost seven, which means in less than five hours, I'll be competing. I take my time getting ready, trying to psyche myself up, but it doesn't seem to work.

Downstairs, Mom has bacon and eggs on the table, but I'm so nervous I can hardly eat. She tilts her head and rests a hand on my forehead, trying to determine if I'm sick.

"I'm not sick," I say, "I'm just not hungry."

She frowns and says, "You're always hungry. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't need to spend hundreds of dollars on groceries each week."

"I'll have her portion," Dad offers. "Bacon is good for me."

Mom rolls her eyes and hands him my plate, watching in disgust as he demolishes the contents. "Remember to be home straight after your shift," she reminds me. "You're still grounded."

Like I could forget. "How much longer is this grounding going to last? It's bordering on a prison sentence."

"She has a point," Dad says through a mouthful of egg. "You've learned your lesson, right Rox?"

"Sure."

Mom sighs and grabs the bleach from the cupboard before wiping down the counters. "It's too early in the morning to discuss this. Plus, I have an order in for one hundred cupcakes which I need to get started on. Hon, will you help me?" She peers at Dad, hopeful, and he hesitates.

Finally, he says, "Sure."

She smiles, and so do I. If she'd asked him this back in Arizona, she'd have received a snappy response about how he can't do anything anymore.

Maybe there's hope for us yet.

When it's almost time to leave, I shove my gear into my bag and let Mom drop me at the track. The place is empty, it's still a few hours until the race begins, but a few workers are busy setting up.

"Something happening here today?" Mom asks.

There's a pang in my chest. A part of me wishes they could see me compete, but there's no chance in hell. "Oh, they're just holding a fair thing," I say.

"Well, call me as soon as your shift is finished and I'll pick you up."

"Sir, yes sir."

She gives me a pointed look. "Sarcasm isn't going to make you any less grounded."

"No, but it makes me feel better."

She rolls her eyes and kisses my cheek. I climb out, heading up the patio steps and into the back, where I quickly change into my gear. My nerves are about to get the best of me when Alex arrives, pulling me into a good luck hug.

"You'll do great," she says. "You're an amazing rider, and as much as I hate He Who Shall Not Be Named, he's a good trainer. You're going to kill it."

"You have an awful lot of confidence in me."

She smiles. "What can I say? I know talent when I see it."

"You're talented, too," I point out. "I can't believe you're not entering."

"No chance in hell."

"But why?"

She lets out a sigh. "Because as soon as the training for the tournament begins, my dad turns into this overbearing monster. I don't know how Tyler deals with it, but I sure as hell can't. Riding is like my escape from life, and I'd rather keep it as a hobby than risk starting to hate it."

I frown. Their dad had seemed so sweet when we met, but I can see how his passion for racing might border obsessive. Even Tyler had mentioned his dad losing patience whenever they trained.

"That must be hard," I say, "having to live up to those expectations. I mean, my dad went pro too, but he'd never put that kind of pressure on me."

"It is hard," she says, sinking onto the bench. "I love my dad, but sometimes I wonder how different things would be if he hadn't been the way he was." Her eyes take off this far-off look that breaks my heart. "Ty and I used to be inseparable as kids. It's racing that came between us. The more overbearing my dad became, the harder we tried to vie for his attention. But there was never any competition. Tyler was the better racer, and being Dad's favorite was more important to him than anything – even me."

I don't know what to say to that, so I settle on another hug. While I don't know the full extent of their sibling rivalry, it's not hard to see they're both still hurting. "Anyway," she says, pulling back, "enough of my family drama. Today is about you. Make sure you come and find me when you qualify, all right?"

I roll my eyes at her confidence in me, hoping she's not going to jinx it. "See you later."

As soon as she leaves, I sink onto the bench, trying to settle my racing heart. This is it, the moment that determines whether I make it to the tournament. One wrong turn or jump and it all ends here, my efforts for nothing.

It's now or never.

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