y pact with Tyler goes surprisingly well. With the tournament so close and his dad still recovering, we don't see each other much aside from quick run-ins at the track, and I prefer it this way. For the first time in a long time, I feel ready and focused on what lies ahead, like I might actually stand a chance.

It's early morning, the sky a perfect blend of orange and pink as the sun peeks through the clouds. I've been training non-stop so my body feels exhausted, but the moment I think about the thrill of the tournament, adrenaline jolts me awake.

For once, I'm not alone at the track. Tyler heads over just as I'm pushing my bike to the starting line and takes his position next to me. I turn my head, hating how good he looks in his riding gear. It's part of the reason that, despite our newfound friendship, I haven't wanted to be alone with him since our talk. Clearly, the temptation is too much for me.

"Hey," I say. I can't see his face – it's covered by his helmet – but he gives me a mini salute. "You don't usually train this early." What is he up to?

"I figured the early bird catches the worm and all that," he says. "Why, you afraid of a little competition, sirenita?"

I feel myself shiver. He is determined to make this as difficult as possible. "Well, then," I say as I turn to the front, "may the best rider win."

But inside I'm nervous. With the tournament around the corner, I have no room for error or poor judgement. Losing against Tyler on a practice run like this will greatly knock my confidence, but at the same time, it's just what I need to push myself.

Tyler, ever the gentleman, lets me do the countdown before we're roaring off, our wheels head to head as we zip down the long and jagged path. As hard as I've been trying to avoid him, a part of me is glad that he came here this morning. It gives me a rush, a taste of the adrenaline I'll feel at the tournament: I can't wait for more.

Sometimes, I wish that my dad could feel this again. Wish he could experience the rush that accompanies racing, the peaks and falls of pure dopamine. We're zipping around a corner, gaining speed down an endless path while the hill in the distance looms closer, and he'd have loved every second.

Something tells me Tyler's dad would feel the same way too. It's like an unspoken feeling that all riders feel, a connection that tethers us together. If racing were a heart, each rider is the vein pumping life into the sport, bringing it to life.

There isn't a moment of hesitation as I fly over the hill. Gone is the fear, the reluctance to speed up in case I end up like my father. As much as I like to think I got here by myself, I didn't – that was Tyler. His support, his encouragement, his advice. He gave me the tools to conquer my fears, and I'll never forget it.

It's hard to gauge who's going to make it to the finish line first. We're on an even keel, surging around the corner with absolute precision. Excitement overtakes me, because for once the outcome of this race is uncertain, and that means I'm improving.

One final push and my handlebars shake as I give it all I've got. My wheel gains on Tyler's before falling back again, but teeth gritted, I persevere. And then somehow, I'm doing it, I'm edging past Tyler until he and the track fall away.

Dad is right, there is nothing in this world like racing. Nothing like the feel of the wind on your face as the world passes by in a blur. My chest is tight, twisted with fear and excitement and hope; I wouldn't have it any other way.

At the last second, Tyler surges forward and blows past the finish line with less than a second to spare. I should be furious at myself for losing the race, but for the first time, I'm not. Never has racing with Tyler been this close.

Instead, I pull off my helmet and laugh. My heart is pounding, beating against the walls of my chest like a drum, There's this moment after racing where your breath gets all shaky and your legs feel like jello, and I love it. Tyler pulls off his helmet too and I know he's experiencing the same. For a second we just sit here, staring at the sun as it stretches across the horizon, still feeling that adrenaline rush.

Finally, he turns to me and flashes that beautiful grin. "You did good out there," he says. "Gave me a run for my money, that's for sure."

I can't stop my smile from spreading. His praise has always had the power to warm me in a way I both love and hate. "If that's how you feel now, just wait until the tournament," I tease and start to push my bike back to the bay. He follows after me, and once our bikes are away, steps closer before tucking back my hair. He's barely even touching me, but it's enough to send an army of butterflies to my stomach.

I clear my throat before stepping back. "So, I'm going to hit the sauna before school. See you around?"

He nods, but I catch the strange twinkle in his eye. Still, I say goodbye and head to the changing rooms, where I shower and change into my swimsuit. My legs are already beginning to ache, but it's the good kind of pain, the type that makes me feel like my training is working.

For a few minutes, I just stand here watching myself in the mirror, noting that my cheeks look flushed. I splash my face with water and then tie my hair on my head in a messy bun. Friendship with Tyler is a good thing. Already I can focus in a way I couldn't before. This is a good thing.

So why can't I stop thinking about kissing him?

With a deep breath, I head into the sauna and freeze. Tyler is in the corner, head back and eyes closed, soaking in the heat. I'm like a deer caught in headlights, frozen to the spot with indecision. Riding with him on the track was one thing, but sitting together half-naked in an enclosed, hot room is something else entirely.

A second passes as my eyes roam his muscles, tanned and glistening with water. They fall to his shorts...and that's when his eyes flick open. Neither of us tries to break the silence. He just arches an eyebrow, clearly aware of where I'd been looking, and waits to see what I'll do next.

I feign composure before taking a seat, suddenly feeling exposed. It doesn't matter that he's tasted my lips or explored parts of my body that no one ever has. Now that we're not together, I feel naked.

Vulnerable.

The silence drags on, so I close my eyes and focus on soaking in the warmth. Trapped in the sauna with Tyler is the last thing I want, but right now, my body needs to recover.

"Considering we're friends now," Tyler says, eyes still closed, "you're not being very friendly." He looks at me now, letting his eyes briefly drop to my lips before they make their way back up again.

"Well, the way you're looking at me isn't very friendly," I say.

He raises an eyebrow. "How am I looking at you?"

"Like you're–just forget it." He smiles a little, and I hate that it makes him look so cute. "Look," I say, "let's just sit here in silence, friend."

"Whatever you say, sirenita."

I give it about two minutes before I'm ready to combust. The heat is getting to me, seeing him sitting there half-naked is getting to me, and I can't take it anymore. I get to my feet and he stands up too, closing the distance between us.

My heart rate amps up, because this is the closest we've stood in a while. I hold my breath as he lowers his head, his face so close I feel the warmth of his breath. A tilt of my head and our lips would be touching.

"Tyler," I whisper. "Don't." Not because I don't want him to, but because I know if we do, my plan to focus on the tournament is over, and whatever chance we might have after all of this is over is ruined.

"I won't," he says, his voice low against my ear. "Not until you ask me to." And then with a heavy sigh, he roughly kisses my forehead and leaves me standing in the sauna alone.