22. Wagers are kind of our thing.”
"Wagers are kind of our thing.”
Aria
I’m fairly certain I’ve never been to the beach before. Nothing about the salty air, the way my shoes dip in the sand, or the sound of waves crashing on the shore seem familiar.
“It’s a nice day,” I say as Caleb and I wander toward the Raptors tent set up for the Polar Plunge.
He arches an eyebrow. “Yeah? In that case, why don’t you come swim with us? It’s not just the players who’ll be taking the plunge today; some of the crew are as well. I could snag you a spot.”
“Tempting, but unfortunately, I lost my memories,” I tease. “And I’m not sure I can swim, so . . .”
He laughs, his head dipping back. “That’s no problem. I’ll be there to help you, and I’m an excellent swimmer.”
I tap a finger on my lips. “Hmm. Heard that one before, and I ended up lying on top of you on the ice,” I joke. “Needless to say, I don’t trust your abilities anymore.”
He bumps his shoulder with mine. “Come on. It was a fun day.”
I bite my lip, but I don’t have a chance to answer since we’ve just reached the security gate.
Caleb shows his pass, and we cross into the gated area.
The setup is massive—sprawling tents for participants to change and warm up, TV stations ready to report, and a team of medics on site, just in case.
The public is already gathering on the beach, taking their seats and grabbing food and drinks from the food trucks.
The energy is high, the air buzzing with excitement.
Caleb joins the guys in the tent, and I veer off toward the table where Marissa, Beth, Hayley, and Alice are sitting.
They’re taking bets from the public, and the line is longer than I expected.
People pay ten dollars to place their bets, the proceeds going to support the Brooklyn Children’s Hospital.
Each bet they place enters them for a chance to win passes for the remainder of the Raptors season.
Judging by the size of the crowd, it’s a major hit.
I join the girls, helping out with the influx of bundled-up spectators. Emma arrives shortly after and pitches in as well.
“Caleb is definitely the most popular today,” Emma says, glancing at the sheet where we’re recording all the bets.
“He is,” I say, my voice coming out a little too sharp.
I try to mask it, but there’s no hiding the bitterness in my tone.
Not because I’m unhappy that people believe in Caleb’s capacity to stay submerged in a cold body of water in December, but because most of those people are beautiful girls who bounce up to the table wearing his jersey.
“Makes sense,” Marissa says. “He’s the captain, but he’s also known to be calm and collected under even the toughest circumstances. Never gets into fights. Great mental resilience. If I wasn’t married to Aaron, I’d bet on him too.”
Beth laughs, her voice carrying a note of teasing. “True. Wally would have been a great contender, though. It’s a shame he’s still back in the UK.”
“Oh, I agree, a hundred percent .” Alice nods with a grin. “Wally would have just stood there in the water, waiting, completely impervious to the cold.”
We all chuckle. I don’t know Wally that well, but Alice’s assessment seems spot on.
More people are trickling through to place their bets when I hear a voice I don’t recognize, sounding a bit too eager.
“I know,” a girl sighs, her tone filled with admiration. “So commanding and strong.”
“And sexy,” her friend adds, her voice low and laced with flirty intention. “There’s a reason he’s the captain.”
I force a smile, but the words lodge themselves deep, hitting harder than I expected. Though I force myself to look away, I can feel the heat creeping up my neck, the jealousy burning beneath my skin. I hate the way they’re talking about him.
The girls giggle, and my body heat surges, until I need to unzip my coat to cool down. That’s when I notice most people are wearing Raptors gear underneath their puffy jackets. Why didn’t I wear mine?
We take bets from the rest of the people waiting in line, then get up to grab a cup of coffee in one of the tents. With coffee in hand, we gather around a table in the heated space.
“Marissa,” I begin, trying to keep my voice casual. “Do you, by any chance, have any Raptors gear lying around? I didn’t think of bringing my jersey.”
“A Caleb jersey, I assume?” she asks, her eyes sparkling with mischief, but there’s no malice behind her words.
I nod, feeling the smallest knot form in my stomach as she strolls out of the tent.
“Ohh, do I sense a crush?” Alice teases, her voice high-pitched and light. But there’s an edge of curiosity to it.
“Ugh. Here we go.” Emma rolls her eyes. “The true-love advocate is here.”
Alice gives her a pointed look. “It’s just a simple question. Am I not allowed to ask questions?”
“Of course you are,” Emma responds, but then her gaze flicks to me. “Careful though, Aria. Hayley and I were single when we met Alice, and we’re both married now.”
Everyone laughs, but their eyes remain trained on me, like I’m suddenly the focal point of the conversation. As I sip on my coffee, I can feel my cheeks flushing.
I clear my throat, fighting the mounting awkwardness. “Yeah, maybe a little.”
The table erupts into cheers, and I can’t help but laugh, though to be honest, I’m a little embarrassed.
“That’s fantastic!” Alice g ushes, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You two would make a great couple.”
“And talk about an epic meet-cute,” Hayley adds with a nod.
At the mention of a meet-cute, the conversation naturally shifts to books, and I’m relieved the heat has shifted away from me. When Marissa returns with the jersey, I quickly pull it on over my sweater. His name feels heavier across my back now, like a badge of something I’m not sure I’m ready for.
The line at the betting table grows again, and with only twenty minutes remaining before they close, we take our seats and get back to work.
“Aria, Emma,” Marissa says, glancing between us. “Would one of you mind going to the guys’ tent to update them on the bets? I’m sure they’d love to know.”
“I’ll do it,” I blurt out before I even think about it, and Emma chuckles softly at my eagerness.
I snap a photo of the betting sheet with my phone and walk to the Raptors tent. I try to knock, but of course, it doesn’t work. So, I step inside, one hand shielding my eyes. “Girl coming in,” I call out. “Are you decent?”
A row of laughter greets me.
“We’re fine, Aria,” Caleb’s deep voice rumbles, and I drop my hand.
They’re all still in their clot hes, probably waiting until the last moment to strip them off. And I can’t really blame them. Even if it’s sunny, it’s still far from an ideal swimming day.
“Just bringing you guys an update on the bets. I’m told that might interest you.”
“Are you kidding?” James steps forward, grinning. “It’s all we’ve been talking about for the past half hour.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Really?” My eyes flick to Caleb, who’s standing off to the side with his arms crossed, an amused look on his face. My heart does a strange flip when our eyes meet.
“You might not know this about our group,” Aaron says, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “But wagers are kind of our thing.”
James chuckles. “Yep. That’s how we got Beaumont and Hayley together.”
Maxime clears his throat, shaking his head. “Try again.”
They all burst into laughter.
“I’ll go to my grave arguing that it helped,” James teases. “We also had a long-running bet on whether or not Marissa and Miles were in love.”
“Oh, and don’t forget the charity auction,” Maxime adds.
I frown. “The what?”
“Yeah, we were auctioned off fo r charity,” James says with a hearty laugh. “No biggie. But what made it even more fun was our inside bet on who would bring in the most cash.”
“Which I won,” Miles says, a smug grin spreading across his face.
James rolls his eyes. “This one promises to be fun too. Naturally, we’re betting on who will last longest. You and the girls can get in on it, if you want. Though, if I were you, I’d pick me. I’m from the Midwest. The cold is my thing.”
“Well, speaking of today’s bets,” I say, whipping my phone from my pocket to check the picture. “So far—and it’s probably a done deal—the player with the most pledges is Caleb.”
“No!” most of the guys call out, but some of them break into applause.
“This thing is rigged,” Miles grumbles, crossing his arms.
“It’s not.” I let out a quiet laugh. “People just have a lot of trust in your captain.”
I risk a glance at Caleb, and the instant our eyes meet, he winks at me. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the flutter in my chest as the guys continue to argue, their voices rising in excitement.
“Well, I’m going back out the re,” I say, my voice a little too tight, “but good luck.”
Most of them don’t even hear me, so with a shrug, I just turn to leave. But Caleb’s voice calls out behind me.
“Sorry.” His tone is light but sincere as he lumbers over to me. “They’re so invested in this bet, they’ve forgotten their manners.”
I swat a hand in dismissal. “It’s fine. I get it,” I say, then tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Well, good luck, I guess. Lots of people are rooting for you.”
“What about you?” he asks, taking another step closer, and my heart skips a beat. “Who are you rooting for? That’s what I’m most interested in.”
I cock my head to the side, a faint smile tugging at my lips.
“I think I’ll have to go with James on this one.
” I smirk, then turn to walk away. But before I can leave, he grabs my hand, pulling me gently but firmly back toward him.
I stumble slightly, my hand landing on his chest, and my breath catches in my throat.
“What did you just say?” His voice is teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of something more—something charged. “I’m not sure I caught that.”
I laugh. “I’m kidding. You can’t see it, but I’m wearing Number Nineteen under my coat.”
His eyes darken as he swallows, a nd I feel the beat of his heart beneath my palm. “Good,” he says, his voice husky.
He takes another step closer, his presence filling the space between us, and something shifts in the air. There’s a pull, a force that’s almost magnetic. I’m rooted to the spot, unable to look away.
“Do you know what that means?” His voice is low and deliberate. His eyes drop to my lips for a second, and I can feel the heat radiating off him. “Wearing the jersey of a player you know?”
I force myself to hold his gaze, even as my stomach flips. “I do.”
A glint sparks in his eyes, and his gaze lingers on my lips for a second too long.
“Five minutes!” someone calls out from somewhere nearby, and I jump, startled by the interruption.
I clear my throat, trying to shake off the tension that hangs thick in the air. “Well, I’ll see you later. Good luck.”
I spin on my heel, my heart pounding as I try to push the image of Caleb’s smoldering gaze from my mind. Here I was, openly flirting with Caleb, and he was flirting back. What the heck does that mean?
“So, how did they react?” Marissa asks. I hadn’t even realized I’d joined the girls.
“Um, it was just like you said. ” I force a chuckle. “They were very interested.”
The girls laugh.
“Well, let’s get a little closer to the action. It’s about to start.”
When the guys file out of their tent, they’re all wearing the same Raptors shorts with their numbers printed on the left leg.
They have shoes on, and some of them even have beanies tucked over their heads.
They march down toward the beach, waving at the spectators.
James is kissing his biceps while Aaron pumps up the crowd, urging them to root for him.
Maxime is doing some kind of weird dance moves, amusing everyone.
Other guys on the team are also encouraging cheers and blowing kisses.
But I can’t keep my eyes off Caleb. He’s simply walking toward the water, waving at the fans, but it’s the first time I’m seeing him with so little clothing.
His abs are rock solid and chiseled, and his whole upper body has the definition of a sculpture, a true work of art.
As he walks by me, his eyes drop to my open coat, and he winks. Honestly, I don’t even know how I’m still standing at this point.
Coach Martin blows his whistle, and the guys scramble toward the water, the crowd cheering them on and applauding.
“Oh, gosh,” Emma groans, look ing away. “I can’t watch. This is brutal.”
Indeed, most of the guys’ smiles are gone now, replaced by crisped faces.
They’re immersed in the frigid water up to their shoulders, and it doesn’t take long for some of them to call it quits.
It’s been forty seconds, and there are only seven players left in the water.
Our entire friend group is still submerged, probably motivated by their inside bet.
The girls are shouting their encouragement, and I just watch in silence, petrified, wondering how they can possibly withstand those temperatures when I’m freezing just by having my coat open.
Two more players call it quits at the one-minute mark, leaving our group and Stan, the equipment manager.
Thirty seconds later, Stan runs out of the water. And shortly after, it’s Beaumont who’s throwing in the towel.
For a brief moment, everything else fades as Caleb’s eyes lock onto mine, and the noise around us dulls to a quiet hum.
I can feel the tension crackle between us—his gaze sharp, almost searching, as if he’s weighing something unspoken.
My chest tightens, my breath catching in my throat.
I’ve never felt so exposed under the intensity of his stare—even with all the chaos of the crowd surrounding us.
James lets out a loud cry before giving up, scurrying toward the tent. Then, Aaron turns to Caleb, says something, and runs out of the water as well. Leaving him as the last man standing.
Wait. Caleb won! Pride surges through me as I applaud and jump on my feet. How crazy is it that he lasted over three minutes in ice-cold water?
A roar of applause and cheers erupts on the beach, the crowd chanting Caleb’s name.
He quickly hustles out of the water, waving at everyone as he jogs toward the warm-up tent.
As he passes next to me, our eyes meet again.
The heat from his gaze cuts through the cold air and warms me from the inside out.
My heart races, my skin flushing beneath my coat. And suddenly, the cold wind against my skin is a distant memory. Maybe I’m the one who should take a cold plunge, though honestly, I’m not sure that would be enough to cool down this inferno.