he lead up to our next training session is nerve wracking to say the least. It's hard to predict what Tyler's mood will be like at the best of times, but throw in last night's family drama and our subsequent kiss...anything could happen.

Between worrying about that and my nightmares of Dad, I don't get much sleep. My alarm goes off at five, so I hurry to get ready before meeting Tyler over at the track. I find him waiting on the sidelines with his helmet in his hands, watching the sunrise. My heart pounds once, then again for good measure, as if I didn't feel nervous enough.

The sound of my footsteps distracts him. He's still for a moment, his eyes dark and unreadable, but then slowly his lips curl upward.

"Hey," I say. "How did things go with your dad?"

He shrugs and walks toward me. "Gave me the same old speech about applying myself. I didn't expect any different."

"I'm sorry, Tyler."

"Don't be." He takes my hand and pulls me closer until I'm right against his chest. Gently, his mouth brushes mine – not exactly a kiss, but a taste of what's to come. "You in the mood for conquering your fears today?" His voice is heavy, warm against my lips, and just like that, the nerves I'd felt are conquered by excitement – not just for racing, but for him.

"Yes," I say. "Definitely."

We start off with a lap around the circuit, but this time it feels different. There's an understanding between us that wasn't there before, an ability to read each other without saying a word. I understand him better when he starts to get bossy, so I'm able to bring him back. When I start to get scared, he's right there next to me, able to talk me through it. For the first time in a long time, we feel like a team.

He gives me a few pointers, then has us drop our bikes at the start before we walk the whole track on foot. It seems a little strange to be walking when we should be riding, but it's nice to see the place from this angle. You miss so much when you're riding a bike that I'm noticing curves and parts of the track I've never noticed before.

He gently grabs my hand as we walk, holding it in his. My first reaction is to tense –it's been a while since anyone has tried to hold my hand–but it only lasts a second. My fingers thread his, and I focus on the warmth of his large, solid palm as we stop at the foot of the hill.

"This is the hill you decelerate on the most," he says. It's the highest hill on the track, the one I'd felt myself release on the last time. If I can conquer this hill, I'll be one step closer to winning.

My stomach knots as I take in the peak. It's easy to forget about the fear when I'm up there, but if it's making me decelerate, the fear must still be there, lurking beneath the surface; I need to find a way to get rid of it.

Tyler turns to face me, hand still in mine, and gives me an encouraging look. "I want you to lap the track once. I'm going to time you as you jump the hill, find out exactly how much you're slowing down by and at what point."

Even though I'm terrified, I nod. "Okay, I'm ready. I think."

"Hey." He takes a step closer and pulls me into a hug. "I'm right here. You've got this."

"Thank you." I pull back a little, noting the lopsided grin on his face and, unable to help it, give him the tiniest peck before hopping back onto my bike.

My first few tries, I decelerate mid-climb, but I can't seem to stop. My body seizes up, and watching the peak of the hill get closer brings back memories I've tried to suppress.

On what feels like my hundredth run, I slam down my bike and throw off my helmet in frustration. My legs feel weak, but despite the physical toll on my body, I'm not making any headway. "Shit."

"Hey," Tyler says. He slips through the barrier and crosses the track until he's standing in front of me. "Rome wasn't built in a day. It's going to take time."

"We don't have time," I say, scooping up my helmet. "I'm going again."

He grabs my arm, keeping me locked in position. "You'll push yourself too hard," he warns. "Let's call it a day."

"I'm fine, I'm going again."

His arm doesn't budge. "Roxy, don't."

I hate that his voice has the power to render me still. As though he knows it, he pulls me into his arms again, locking me in place.

"Worried about me, are you?" I tease.

I expect him to smile, to see it for the lighthearted joke that it is, but instead, his eyes are serious. "Always."

Eyes closed, I lean into his hand. "Stop saying things like that to me."

"Why?"

"Because we've had this conversation before."

"Then stop talking, sirenita."

I raise my gaze until it meets his. Gone is the mischievous grin that I'm used to, replaced with a dark, hooded gaze. He reaches out, gently brushing my mouth with his thumb before he leans down to kiss me.

In the moments that follow, it's easy to forget all the things I'm afraid of. I don't focus on racing, or the fact I might end up as another old friend. As his lips brush mine, I don't think of anything at all.

he next few days follow a similar pattern. We spend the morning racing, trying to conquer that unconquerable hill before he comforts me with a kiss. I don't know what it means, if it even means anything, but I do know the more that he kisses me like this, the harder it is for us to stop.

This morning is particularly taxing. I ride the hill on a loop, determined that this time will be the time I succeed, but as I descend, racing toward where Tyler is waiting with a stopwatch, he briefly shakes his head.

"Damnit." I pull up next to him, smacking the handle of my bike with my palm. If I can't shave off a few seconds on this hill, I'll never win the tournament.

He lifts my helmet, pressing his lips against mine. I sink into him immediately, his kisses as familiar – as anticipated – as breathing. With one hand in my hair, his other lightly cups my chin, tilting my head toward him. The pads of his fingers are soft and warm, sending tingles through the delicate skin.

"Come on," he says, sliding my goggles back on for me, "I have an idea." He slips on my helmet next, fastening it under my chin. "We're going to ride it together, and I want you to match my speed."

I nod and grab my bike again. "Ready when you are."

He does the same, then looks toward me. "I'm here, sirenita. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

His words help to settle the dread. As soon as we're ready, we lap the track, matching the other's speed.

It's not long before we see the hill. We both pick up speed, hurtling toward it without slowing down, our bikes in perfect sync.

"You can do it," Tyler yells as we steer the next corner. "Don't slow down!"

And I don't. I hurtle toward what feels like imminent danger, flying up the side of the hill and over the edge, where for a moment, we freefall. It's the same feeling, I realize, that I get around Tyler – weightless and ready to fall. Then, just as quickly, we're hitting the ground and carrying on down the track.

As soon as we park up, we pull off our helmets and Tyler reaches for his watch to check the time. He looks up, and from the lopsided grin that spreads across his lips, I did it.

"You didn't decelerate once," he says as he walks toward me. He picks me up, spinning me around before setting me on my feet. The grin on his face is adorable. "I knew you'd do it."

My own hands grab the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. I don't know what comes over me, but suddenly I'm sprinkling his face in kisses, my throat feeling thick with emotion. This whole time I'd convinced myself that falling for Tyler would sabotage my chances, but if anything, it's helped them.

He doesn't waste a moment. His hands come up to either side of my waist as his tongue tangles mine. I moan a little, a sound that forces him to inhale sharply and grip my waist harder.

"Sirenita," he mutters, "I need to–"

But he's barely gotten out his sentence when a calm voice cuts in, "What is this?"

My heart stills, because I'd recognize that voice anywhere. I turn on my heel, hoping against hope that I'm wrong in my prediction, but the moment I turn, I see that it's her.

Alex.

❤️