Chapter 16
It’s only ten a.m., and the sand is already too hot.
I shift my weight, adjusting the mic pack clipped to the back of my shorts as I stare out across the ocean, arms crossed. Camera operators jog past me with lenses lifted, like we’re filming the climax of an action movie instead of a glorified reality show beach day.
When production stormed the house this morning and announced we needed a change of scenery and some good, old-fashioned team building, I didn’t realize that meant stripping us down to swimwear and forcing enthusiasm under a cloudless sky.
I should’ve known better. That one’s on me.
The sky is an obnoxious shade of blue that feels unnatural for real life. Seagulls shriek overhead. A production assistant flits between us, chirping about the importance of sunscreen and hydration.
I scrub a hand down my face—I’d rather be anywhere else.
Anywhere she is.
The thought catches me off-guard, but damn. I miss her.
Taylor would’ve rolled her eyes at the cameras circling us but run straight for the water anyway, daring me to follow. She would’ve splashed me first. Laughed when I pretended to be annoyed. She would’ve turned this into something almost fun without even trying.
Instead, she’s hours away, burning the candle at both ends for another week in this circus of a show.
The other night replays in my mind without permission—the heat of her pressed against me, the soft give of her body beneath my hands, the way she melted into my touch like she’s never wanted anything else. My jaw tightens. I exhale a slow breath through my nose.
I chew the inside of my cheek, wondering what she would’ve worn today.
Would she be bold about it like Lila—wearing something small and bright that clings in all the right places, pretending not to notice the way every head turns. The thought sparks something ugly and possessive in my chest.
But fuck, I’d give damn near anything to see my girl in something like that.
Or maybe she’d go softer, like RaeAnn, in something vintage. Something that makes her look sweet until you get close enough to realize there’s more lurking below.
I’d probably lose my mind watching her tuck her hair behind her ear and look up at me through dark lashes like she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing to me.
Or maybe she’d be more like Diane, keeping it simple. Black. Clean lines. Understated. The kind of suit that wouldn’t scream for attention—wouldn’t need to—because she’d own every inch of it just by being herself.
My hands curl at my sides. It’s a fucking crime I don’t get to know what she would’ve chosen, since she isn’t here at the beach with us. With me.
A speaker crackles to life, a thumping beat vibrating the sand at our feet. Someone whoops. Within minutes, the beach transforms from a cliché TV set into a lively party.
Diane slathers sunscreen over her shoulders, walking along the water’s edge. Lila poses for a drone shot like she’s done this before.
Who am I kidding? She probably has.
Brandon immediately recruits Joe and Julian from the sidelines to toss a football around. A bright red cooler appears. Then another.
“We deserve this,” RaeAnn laughs, cracking open a seltzer before settling into one of the beach chairs set up for our group.
I stay rooted in place, watching everyone around me as the warm sun and chilled alcohol dissolve whatever lingering tension remained from the competition.
It’s so easy for them to relax. I don’t think I’ve relaxed since I was ten years old.
A football crashes into the sand at my feet, granules scattering against my shins. I bend, pick it up, and straighten, meeting Julian’s gaze as he jogs my way.
“You going to stand there brooding all day?” He grins.
“Considering it.” I twirl the ball in the air.
“That’s no way to be.” Julian slows to a stop and grabs the ball from my grasp. “Come on, we need a fourth. Maybe you’ll even get a shot in on Joe—ya know, for all those times he’s gotten close to your girl.”
He’s teasing me, I know he is. But it grates.
“She’s not my girl.” I hold his gaze, even though the words don’t feel entirely true. Still, I don’t like Julian talking about her like she’s a thing instead of a person.
“Don’t talk about her like that.”
Julian’s grin falters, just a fraction, like he hears more in my words than I intended. He gives a small nod before jogging backwards and motioning me forward.
“Whatever you say, man.”
It takes less than a second for me to take off after him. Blowing off some of this pent-up energy is the best thing I can do for myself right now. I’m wound so tight, one minor inconvenience and I might snap.
“Maybe I’ll get one in on you instead!”
The shit-eating grin on Julian’s face only spreads as he runs at me, faking left before spinning around to the right.
“Do your worst!” He taunts, before Brandon comes out of nowhere, tackling him to the ground and tossing the ball my way.
“Harrington’s with me!”
Everything in me cringes at the casual use of my last name, but a quick glance around confirms no one’s paying attention. I rake my lower lip between my teeth, clench my jaw, and sprint toward the guys. Because sometimes it’s easier to tackle something I can get my hands on.
Twenty minutes later, sweat drips down my chest, and my breath comes in shallow pants. My muscles buzz with the fading adrenaline and exertion. It feels good. I feel good.
I grab a bottle of water and gulp it down in one shot, then swipe a beer from the cooler. Dropping onto the sand with my knees bent, I scan the group, all of them in varying states of relaxation or entertainment.
That’s when my gaze finds Lila.
She’s already staring right at me.
I scoff and look away, uninterested in whatever it is she’s thinking or planning. But I’ve clearly pissed off the universe, because when I chance another look, she’s already smiling and walking toward me.
My gaze locks on the waves licking the shoreline. Maybe if I don’t make eye contact, she’ll course-correct on her own.
But she doesn’t.
Lila shakes out a towel beside me, then sits and edges a little closer. “You looked good out there, Alex.”
Heat from her sun-drenched skin bleeds into my side. I instinctively lean away. This isn’t a game I’m playing.
Her smile doesn’t falter. If anything, it sharpens into something harder, more calculated. “Relax,” she says lightly, brushing sand from her thigh. “It was just a compliment.”
The breeze kicks up, carrying the scent of sunscreen and salt between us. Her knee nudges mine. It’s brief enough to be dismissed as accidental, intentional enough for the cameras to catch.
I take a slow pull from my beer, letting the silence stretch. If she’s going to force me into this conversation, then I’m going to make her work for it.
“You’ve done well for yourself here. Everyone thinks you’re the frontrunner,” she says, softening her voice to something breathy, her nails tracing lightly along my forearm. “I think you’re going to win it all.”
I roll my eyes. Lila is a carbon copy of every pretty, vapid girl back home—looking for attention, opportunity, a leg up. And she knows exactly how to play this game.
I set the beer down, straighten my legs, and lean back on my elbows just enough to create distance between us.
“You don’t have to make this about me,” I say evenly, letting my gaze drift to the waves.
Her lips twitch, but she doesn’t retreat. “Oh, I’m not. I’m just… noticing. People notice winners.” Her voice drops, it’s just loud enough for the cameras, and her knee shifts again, edging closer still.
“You could have anything,” she continues, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “If you wanted. You just have to reach out and take it.”
I tilt my head, measuring her. “I don’t want what isn’t already mine.”
She pauses at that. Her half-smile tightens in acknowledgment, and maybe a little surprise, but she doesn’t push further. She’s tested the line, found the boundary, and recalibrated.
“Hmm,” she hums, letting the sound drift into the wind. “I suppose that makes sense. Wouldn’t want to be too evenly matched or anything.”
I shrug, keeping my posture loose. If she thinks she’s getting under my skin, she better try a lot harder than that. I’m steady, totally unfazed, and completely uninterested in taking the bait.
I don’t care about her, and I definitely don’t have anything to prove.
She tilts her head, studying me like she’s seeing me clearly for the first time. Then she leans back on her hands. “Fine,” she says, tone easing into something more casual. “We’ll see how long that stance holds.”
And just like that, she’s done testing me for now. The cameras are still rolling, the beach still hums with laughter, but for a moment, the only game that matters is the one she can’t control: me.
Julian bursts out of the waves, hair plastered to his forehead, water streaming in every direction as he jogs toward us. He spins, shakes his head like a dog—and before either of us can react, sends a curtain of droplets arcing straight at Lila.
She squeals, jerking sideways as the water catches the sunlight and scatters across her.
“Julian!” she snaps, standing up and brushing frantically at the sand clinging to her legs. Her expression is a perfect mix of outrage and annoyance. She steps back, glaring at him, towel clutched in her fists like a shield.
My lips twitch. Julian looks entirely pleased with himself, grin wide. Lila’s sharp retort gets swallowed by the thump of music and the laughter echoing down the beach, but I catch enough to know she’s fuming.
Well-played, Julian.
He drops down onto the sand next to me, seemingly unbothered by how it clings to his wet skin. “You looked like you needed saving,” he says, loud enough for the cameras to hear.
That earns a quiet laugh from me. I wouldn’t say I needed saving, but I appreciate his intrusion all the same. And it would be really great if the cameras caught it, so Lila can’t twist this conversation into something it isn’t when Taylor’s back in the house.
He props himself up on one elbow and grins after Lila’s still-retreating figure. I shake my head as my cousin openly ogles the girl he intentionally just pissed off. There’s something clearly wrong with him.
“Hey, so I got a call from your favorite parent earlier today,” he says, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “He’s curious how his son is doing. Asked me to check if you’re still alive or if you’ve run off into the ocean permanently.”
I raise an eyebrow, amused and irritated at the same time. “Smart move calling you. I don’t have anything to say to him.”
It isn’t fair to put Julian in the middle as the go-between, but I’m not ready to face my father. Or hear his opinion on everything I’m doing here. I’d rather stick my hand in a fryer than answer what I’m sure would be tedious questions about optics and reputation.
“You need to call him. He’s been getting updates from the producers, but he needs to hear your version of things, too.” Julian shifts closer.
“My version of things? What the hell does that mean?”
“I don’t know everything that’s been said, but I do know they’ve told him you haven’t exactly been winning. And they’ve hinted that you’re involved romantically with someone on the show. He thinks you’re distracted.”
A dry scoff escapes me. “He can fuck right off with that.”
“I’m serious. He’s threatening to pull funding from Northern Flame. You need to call him.”
I roll my eyes and meet Julian’s gaze. He’s right. Avoiding Chet Harrington isn’t a long-term solution. And the longer I put it off, the more pissed off and petty his response is going to be.
I nod. “I’ll call him soon.”
Julian’s shoulders loosen, visibly relieved.
As much as I don’t want to speak to my father, I can’t risk losing everything Julian and I have been working toward this year. Our one real chance at making a name for ourselves, outside of the family’s restaurant group.
At the water’s edge, Brandon decides it’s his moment to shine. I watch him sprint toward the surf, chest puffed up like he’s the star of some slow-motion commercial. Someone had tossed a football too close to the waves, and he’s determined to claim it, diving headfirst into the shallow water.
The first few steps look promising. Then his foot catches a patch of uneven sand—and physics wins.
Brandon slips, flailing, arms windmilling, and crashes into the water with a spectacular splash.
Waves tumble over him, sand flies in every direction, and for a second I can’t tell if he’s laughing or screaming.
The football plunks into the water beside him.
“Brandon!” Joe yells. “You okay, man?”
He pops up sputtering, spewing water like a human fountain. His hair is plastered to his forehead, water streaming down his chest. Lila, who is still drying off from Julian, bursts out laughing, clutching her stomach, while Diane just shakes her head, smirking like she saw it coming.
Even the drone hovering above dips, trying to follow the chaos. Julian howls with laughter. “Nice one, Brandon! Nailed the landing, bud!”
I lower my head, bracing my arms against my knees. They’re all absurd—every one of them, performing for cameras, for fun, for nothing.
And me? I feel like I’m on the outside looking in. Watching it all unfold, completely untouched. Some days you get to participate. Some days you just sit back and watch.
Today, I’m definitely in the latter camp.