y hands feel clammy as I force myself to turn away. It's hasn't even been three days, and Tyler is already busy reacquainting himself with old friends. Not that I should be surprised – isn't this what I've always worried about? That sooner or later, I'd become an old friend too.

"What's your poison, Rox?"

I glance at Niko, sick to my stomach, and say, "Something strong," before turning to Vanessa, who isn't behind me like I'd expected but over in the corner talking to some guy.

Niko looks over just as she laughs and his eyes flash with something protective. "Who's she talking to?"

"No idea." Without meaning to, my gaze gravitates back toward Tyler, whose eyes have found mine. My heart flips, the same way it does when I race down a hill: a mix of fear and pure adrenaline. He gets to his feet, pushing past the brunette like he's about to walk over, but then Sam beats him to it.

"And don't we look cozy," Sam says as Niko hands me a drink, "I see you've moved on quick." He nods across the bar to Tyler before wiggling his eyebrows. "Looks like Ty's already back to his old ways, too. Probably for the best."

I down the contents of my glass and try not to wince. As much as it pains me to think it, he's right. It didn't take Tyler long to find his latest conquest, which means he's either moved on quick or he never really cared to begin with.

Niko must notice the hurt in my expression because he narrows his eyes at Sam. "How about you do us all a favor," he says, "and go and play in the traffic."

Sam ignores him and turns to me as I flag down the bartender. "I have a proposition for you, darlin'."

"Oh god," I say, "please no."

He laughs like I'm joking, which only makes it worse. "Don't be like that. It's one you're going to like, I promise."

"I doubt that." When the bartender comes over, I ignore the wave of nausea taking over and order two more shots. If I have to endure the rest of this night, it's not going to be sober.

"You need a trainer," Sam says. His eyebrow arches as I down both my shots, but one glare from me stops him from commenting. Instead, he leans in closer and adds, "I'm happy to do it free of charge."

I blink once, then twice. The idea of Sam training me makes me want to vomit. "Hard no."

"Hey, you might not like me," he says, "but you need me. Riding the next few weeks without a trainer is a mistake that'll cost you in the tournament, and it's not like you have a lot of options right now."

He's right, but this is not something I'm ready to admit to yet. "Thanks," I say, "but I'd rather ride alone than with you."

"Fine," he says, stepping back, but he's wearing the look of someone who has not been deterred. "You change your mind, you let me know."

As soon as he leaves, Niko tells me to ignore him and drags me over to a pool table. I don't much feel like pretending to be happy, but my pride stops me from leaving. If Tyler is hellbent on having fun tonight, then so will I.

I chalk up my cue while Niko sets up, risking a look in Tyler's direction. He's leaning against the bar watching me, and if I didn't know better, I'd think he was jealous; my petty side hopes that I'm right.

"You break," Niko says, so I turn to the table and aim, managing to pocket a few of the balls. Niko grins, clearly impressed, and takes the next shot.

"So, no sign of Alex yet," I say, but he's barely even listening. He's too busy watching Vanessa and her friend in the corner. "If she turns up, are you going to ask her out?"

"Mm." His eyes darken as Vanessa's new friend puts a hand on her waist.

"That's just wrong," Niko says, pocketing a ball. "They're in public."

I laugh and take my next shot, but it's hard to keep it steady. Either the shots I'd downed are starting to kick in or I suddenly suck at pool. "He's holding her waist," I say, "hardly scandalous."

"Might as well be," he mutters, but now I'm barely listening. The brunette has found Tyler, and she's saying something to him that makes him smile that adorable smile.

My stomach lurches as I focus on the game. At some point, Vanessa and her friend come over to supply us with drinks, and Niko is so distracted that he misses his next few shots. My fourth fifth shot of vodka means I miss mine too.

Alex sneaks up beside me and says, "Poor form, Roxy."

I turn and throw my arms around her neck like I haven't seen her in years, but I can't help it. Just the sight of her makes it feel like everything's normal, even if it's not. She pulls back a little, taking in the empty glasses lining the side of the pool table.

"Though now I see why," she adds.

"Yeah, well, tonight is about having fun," I say, nodding to the bar. "Just ask Tyler."

She frowns and glances over at him. "That does not look like someone who's having fun."

"Yeah, well, you didn't see him a few minutes ago." I turn back to the table to take my shot, suddenly feeling sick. The thought of Tyler with someone else is too much for me to stomach, which means somewhere along the way, Tyler broke down my defences – a mistake I'm now paying for.

Alex leans closer until only I can hear. "This isn't like you, Roxy. Just go and talk to him."

"He doesn't want to talk to me."

She sighs and says, "Look, he's just hurt. He doesn't trust easily, which means he's taking you lying to him extra hard, but he'll get over it. Just don't give up on him."

I ignore her and take a shot with my cue before looking back over. She's slipped through the crowd and made her way to Tyler, where the pair are talking quietly. Every so often, they both look over, and I feel like I'm secretly being judged.

"Here, have this."

I turn to the stranger with the shot in his hand. He looks familiar – tall, with brown hair and a babyish face – and I think I've seen him around at the track. I risk a look at Tyler, who has suddenly straightened up and is watching our exchange with a stony expression.

"You want it?" the stranger asks.

I falter for a moment. I can smell it from here, like a mix of gasoline and bleach, but I reach out to take it anyway.

Tyler suddenly appears out of nowhere, blocking me from taking the drink. "I think you've had enough."

The guy from the track takes one look at Tyler and backs away slowly before disappearing into the crowd. I turn around fast – too fast – and send the world spinning, even without that extra shot.

"You're drunk," Tyler says. He slips an arm around my waist to steady me. "I'm taking you home."

"No, you're not." I go to push past him and stumble forward a step, but he catches me before I can fall. I straighten up, acutely aware of his arms around my waist, and force myself to search his face. I don't know what I'm looking for – whether it's comfort or fondness or even forgiveness – but I know I don't find it.

The crowd around us surges and pushes us closer together. The music has changed, and the thump of the bass seems to rumble through the ground, sending shockwaves up my legs. As the bar fills up, Tyler pulls me closer in an attempt not to lose me, his embrace exactly what I've needed.

I suck in a breath, suddenly dizzy at our proximity. Maybe it's down to the shots I drank or because I just have no willpower, but I draw him in closer until our lips are almost level. His breathing shallows as my nose brushes his, but when I go to kiss him, he pulls back.

Rejection swirls through me as I take a step back. "Right," I say. "You've got your old friend to keep you company. Don't let me stop you." I turn away, and he says something I don't catch as I head toward the exit. The world spins out of focus as I try to calm down; tonight was a bad idea.

Outside, it's easier to breathe. The cold air is sobering, and I stumble forward in a bid to get away, but Tyler catches up to me. He grabs my hand, his palm warm and solid as it clamps around my own, keeping me still.

"I'm taking you home," he says.

"I don't need you to take me home. I can walk." To my misfortune, I stumble as I say it, and without a word, he scoops me up and carries me to his car. I barely protest as he slips me into the passenger seat and fastens my seatbelt. I lean forward slightly, trying to stop the world from spinning. Drinking my feelings away was not a good plan.

He slides into the driver seat and starts up the engine. "For the record," he says, "that girl you saw me with is my friend's girlfriend. There isn't and never was anything between us." I'm silent as he pulls out of the parking lot, my throat thick with relief. But then, in a voice so low that I know it means he's pissed, he says, "I heard Sam asked you to train," and relief quickly turns into dread. He tenses now, hands gripped around the wheel. "Are you going to?"

"I don't know. I mean, it's not like I have a lot of options."

The rest of the drive is silent as I try to battle my nausea. At some point, he pulls up to my house without saying a word and doesn't kill the engine. Finally, he says, "Riding with Sam isn't an option, it's a death wish."

"Then you train me," I say, and I hate the slight pleading in my voice. The truth is, tonight has been a reminder of just how much I miss him, and I can't stand the thought of training without him.

He doesn't respond, and the longer the silence hangs between us, the more embarrassed I start to feel. Throat tight, I unfasten my seatbelt and fight back the tears before attempting some damage control.

"Right, well, thanks for driving me home," I say, "see you around," and then I climb out of the car and slam shut the door, drowning out his call for me to wait.

❤️