hen I cross the finish line first, it's a nice little boost to my confidence. Alex finishes fifth, and when she whips off her helmet, I expect her to be pissed, but instead, she laughs. "God, I forgot how nice it is to race on the afternoon track. My heart is still racing."

I smile because so is mine. After putting away our bikes, we head up to the patio and order some chicken wings before spending the rest of the afternoon talking. I learn that her relationship with Tyler has been more cordial since their dad's heart attack, and I'm glad they're not at war anymore. One day, they can sit down and work out their issues for good.

"I don't think I can watch you suck on a chicken bone any longer," she says as I devour my wings, "are you ready to head to Mojacks?"

I nod and get to my feet before grabbing my helmet. "Meet you there?"

"No, leave your bike here," she says. "We'll take my car. I need to stop at home first to check on my dad."

I nod and follow her over to the parking lot before climbing into her car. My nerves get the best of me, and all I can think about now that I'm not racing is whether or not Tyler will be at Mojacks. If he is, will I be able to cope with him talking to another one of his old friends? It's as if every time I see him, I get this sudden urge to kiss him again, but if I can hold on just a little longer, then things won't be so complicated.

I hope.

The house is quiet when we finally pull up. Alex parks in the drive and leads me inside, which is strangely dark and silent despite her dad being home. Something feels off, and just as I'm about to turn to Alex, the house explodes with noise and light.

"Happy birthday!"

People pop up from behind every available surface wearing hats and waving banners. I catch a few familiar faces, like Vanessa and Niko over by the lamp and Mom and Dad behind the sofa. In the armchair is Mr Wakeford, waving giddily despite his frail appearance, but there's a face among the others that I haven't found yet.

I scan the rest of the crowd, smiling and nodding as people gather around me, but I'm barely even listening. I'm looking for him. Rejection tugs at my insides again, and I'm about to give up when I spot him in the distance, his party hat wonky as he takes a step forward, the cutest, boyish grin on his face.

Tyler.

As badly as I want to close the distance between us, it's not physically possible. I'm surrounded by people, half of which I'm sorry to say that I don't even recognize, but they all wish me a happy birthday. My parents push to the forefront, and my mom is pleased with herself at another successful surprise party.

"We held it here so you wouldn't be suspicious," she says, smiling at Alex. "Alex helped to keep it a secret."

I shoot Alex a look that says, I'm going to kill you later, but I don't mean it. Maybe it's because my friends are here, or because Tyler is still looking at me with that adorable grin, but for once, I don't mind the surprise.

For the next thirty minutes, it's all about dancing and cake. Niko grabs my hand to dance with me, and a glance at Tyler shows his smile has fallen and his eyes have grown black with jealousy. I'm about to head over, mostly because staying away from him is harder than I thought, but I'm suddenly pulled into a conga line, sandwiched between Niko and Vanessa who won't let me escape. When I look back, Tyler is gone.

Eventually, when I make it clear I'm going to pee myself if they don't let me go, I sneak upstairs and wander the vast, wide corridors of the Wakeford mansion. It feels strange that I've never been upstairs before. It's just as spacious as downstairs, with numerous white doors that veer off into what I'm certain are master suites. Determining which door belongs to Tyler is all but impossible, and just as I'm about to turn back and head to the party, I hear the beautiful sound of a piano drifting down the hallway.

I follow the noise, straining my ears to hear the faint melody over the party downstairs. The sound leads me to the end of the corridor, where I hover for a moment before knocking on the door closest.

There's silence, and then, "Come in."

Breath faint, I push open the door and step inside. His bedroom is nothing like I'd have imagined. It's long and airy, the walls a dark brick that make it look more like a loft than a bedroom. Lining the walls are shelves filled with records, and above the bed, which sits proudly in the middle of the room, is a skylight.

We don't speak as I take a step further, taking in the leafy green plants on the windowsill. It's like a New York-style loft had a baby with a greenhouse, and this was the outcome. "This is so not what I was expecting." I turn to him as I say it and notice for the first time that he's sitting in the corner at a beautiful, antique piano – not exactly what I'd been expecting either.

His eyebrow arches. "What were you expecting?"

"I don't know, motorcycle parts everywhere or pictures of famous riders or...something to do with bikes. But there's nothing."

"My dad has enough of that stuff lying around," he says, turning back to the piano. "Figure I didn't need that shit clogging up my bedroom too." His hands fall away from the piano as he gets to his feet and turns to face me. His eyes are dark, lacking their usual mischievous glint, so I know he's annoyed.

"Don't tell me you're mad at me on my birthday," I say.

"You want me to be happy about you dancing with Nigel?"

I suppress a laugh before closing the distance between us. "You know his name is Niko, and we're just friends. You don't need to be jealous."

He leans in closer, and I feel my breath hitch in my throat. "I am jealous." His hand comes up to the side of my face, where he tucks back a strand of my hair. Letting his hand linger, he says, "How much longer, sirenita?"

I swallow hard. I'm tempted to say screw it and throw caution to the wind, but with the tournament so close, it feels wrong to give up now. I'd rather wait a little longer and be sure in my decision than have it all fall apart after the race.

But before I get the words out, his thumb grazes my cheek. I hate that my stomach explodes with heat. The simplest touch creates sparks beneath my skin, and I desperately fight to put them out.

"Tyler." I meant for it to come out firm, but it's almost a moan. The muscles in his neck contract, and he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me against him. His mouth is so close that I'm certain any second, he's going to kiss me.

Instead, he grabs my thighs and picks me up, forcing my legs to wrap around him. We move back slowly, his eyes on mine, his lips a mere few centimeters away before he lowers me onto the piano.

The keys make a noise under the sound of my weight, but there's something strangely exhilarating about this. And then he lowers his gaze until he's watching me, hands on my waist, eyes thick with longing, and heat rushes between my thighs.

Voice low, he breathes in my ear, "Ask me, sirenita."

My head feels dizzy as his words come back. I won't, not until you ask me to. And god, do I want to. Weakness takes over, and I part my lips, ready to ask him when the door flies open. Alex stands in the doorway, looking from Tyler to me and back to Tyler before she scrunches her nose in distaste. "I hate to break up the party here, but they're about to cut the cake."

Tyler lets out a frustrated sigh before reluctantly stepping back. I get off the piano and smooth down my hair before walking toward Alex, who looks somewhat amused at my embarrassment. With a brief look at Tyler, who is back at his piano as if we've already left, I turn and head back to the party.

By the time we get home, it's past midnight. My parents can't stop talking and giggling like kids – they've had a little too much wine – and as soon as we're inside, Mom wheels Dad to bed and they close the door behind them. I shudder about what they're getting up to in there and head up to my own room, closing the door behind me.

I shrug off my jacket, able to feel something hard in one of the pockets. Confused, I pull out a small, black velvet box that I'm certain hadn't been there before the party. Written on the top in gold, spiral writing is the words: Happy Birthday. A rush of excitement and nervousness pools through me as I flick open the lid. Inside is a beautiful, thin gold bracelet with a motorcycle pendant in the center.

Tyler.

✋