Chapter 5
AVA
“We’re still in this thing,” Lexie says, clapping her hands together. “If we win the final event, we win the whole enchilada.”
Mmmm. I could really go for an enchilada right now.
Kayla must agree, because she groans. “If I buy you an enchilada, can we forget about the third event and go back to the bar?” She swipes a strand of damp hair off of her forehead. “Ya girl is thirsty.”
I giggle because everything is funny now. Which is probably the tequila doing its thing. Or maybe I’m still riding high from my ah-maz-ing limbo win. I totally kicked butt.
Guess gymnastics training paid off, after all.
“Ava?” Lexie cocks her head, brow furrowed. “Are you with us?”
I nod aggressively. “Abso-freaking-lutely.”
“Good, because Camila said we all have to participate in the dizzy race.”
Shoot. I was hoping to sit out again.
Wait. “What’s a dizzy race?”
Lexie points to where Camila is setting up cones down the beach. “It’s a relay. We each have to run to the cone, spin around it ten times, and then race back and tag the next member of our team. The first team to have three runners complete the race wins.”
“Sounds fun.” Not really, but I’m pretty sure that’s the tequila talking. “Can I be first?”
Yep, definitely the tequila.
“Works for me.” Kayla shields her eyes and scans the beach, studying our competition. “I’ll go second, and Lexie will bring home the fake gold.”
Lexie sticks her tongue out at us, earning another round of giggles as we line up next to Flamingo Boy and his buddies, who are arguing about their team lineup.
“It doesn’t matter what order you go in.” Lexie flips her ponytail over her shoulder. “We’re still going to win.”
Jones’ eyes nearly bug out of his head, and I cackle. There’s no other word for the maniacal laughter that explodes from my lips.
“Who hurt you?” the tree hugger asks, sparking a huff of indignation from our self-appointed team captain.
“Why is it that anytime a woman shows a competitive spirit she’s considered damaged goods?” Lexie demands, throwing air quotes around the last bit. “Or worse, aggressive.”
“I’ll take the patriarchy for five hundred,” Kayla deadpans, sounding like the world’s least enthusiastic game show contestant.
“Ding, ding, ding!” I pretend to ring an imaginary bell. “Got it on the first try!”
Flamingo Boy grins, revealing those adorable freaking dimples, and my belly flips. “Don’t let Bergie fool you. He loves trash talk. It’s just that he’s usually the one doing the chirping.”
“Bro.” Jones pulls a face. “Whose team are you on? Quit giving away our strat.”
“Uh-oh,” I sing. “Sounds like you have a traitor in your mid—”
“Is everyone ready?” Camila calls, raising her arms over her head like a flag.
We confirm, our voices melding together as one.
“En sus marcas, listos, fuer!”
Camile drops her arms, and I take off like a shot. At least, I think I do. It’s surprisingly difficult to run barefoot on the sand.
“Goooo!” Lexie shouts. I don’t have to look back to know she’s probably jumping up and down like a maniac. Her piercing screams are enough to get me moving.
My feet pound over the sand, each footfall sturdier than the last. Once I get used to the sensation of my heels sinking with each step, it gets easier.
Sweat beads along my hairline and pools between my breasts, but I ignore it, focusing on my breathing. Each breath comes hard and fast, my chest expanding and contracting in an attempt to draw more oxygen into my system.
By the time I reach the orange cone that marks the turnaround point, I’m panting like a dog.
A dog who hasn’t exercised in months.
My chest burns, but I can’t afford to rest. A quick glance around reveals Flamingo Boy is in the lead and the tweens are hot on my tail. I lower my forehead to the top of the cone and spin.
The world beneath me blurs into a brown and white swirl as I make my way around the cone, moving as quickly as I dare. I can’t afford to lose time, but I also have no interest in puking my guts up in front of all these people.
I count off ten spins, and when I straighten, the beach rotates before my eyes. I take a step forward, and stumble.
Shoot. This is harder than I thought it would be.
I narrow my eyes and squint down the beach, locking my gaze on what I think is the starting line.
“Move your ass!” Lexie shouts, waving her arms erratically.
Yep, definitely the starting line.
I half-run and half-stumble back to my team, fighting the nausea that roils in my stomach.
Whose idea was it for a bunch of drunk people to do a dizzy race? This is some messed up crap.
Kayla holds out her hand as I cross the finish line. I tag her and flop onto the sand, landing hard on my backside.
She manages to hold off the tweens in the first leg of the race, but she gains no ground on Jones, who is surprisingly fast. The other teams seem to be going half-speed, and I can’t say I blame them. Even if by some miracle one of them were to win this event, it would be a three-way tie.
Jones completes his spins first, but he starts off in the wrong direction. With guidance from his teammates, he quickly course-corrects, but his footing is unsure.
Kayla turns to us like a heat-seeking missile, and an unladylike whoop bursts from my lips.
As ridiculous as these Olympic games are, I’m invested now.
I want to win, if only so that our efforts are not in vain.
Kayla crosses the finish line a few strides behind Jones, and Lexie takes off with a burst of speed, arms pumping at her sides. Heck, even her ponytail appears to be locked in, flying straight behind her to prevent any unnecessary drag.
“You’ve got this, Lexie!” I clap and whistle, cheering her to victory.
She catches the tree hugger at the midpoint and completes her ten spins with ease, beating him off the cone.
“It’s almost like she’s done this before,” Kayla muses.
The mood on the beach shifts instantly. Suddenly everyone is cheering for Lexie as she sprints toward us, her cheeks flushed.
But it’s not over yet.
Tree Hugger is gaining ground, his long strides eating up the beach.
Then they’re neck and neck.
“Come on,” I whisper. If anyone can pull this out, it’s Lex.
Kayla grabs my biceps. “I can’t watch.”
“Don’t you dare close your eyes!” I shout as Lexie approaches the finish line and thrusts her chest forward.
At the same time she leans in, Tree Hugger dives, flying through the air like freaking Superman with his arms outstretched. He skids facedown across the sand before coming to a stop. Then he lifts his head, setting off a volley of cheers, and vomits.
Gross. My stomach rolls, and I turn my head.
Kayla blinks, shell-shocked. “Who won?”
“I don’t know.” It was too close to call. The race—and the Beach Olympics—could go either way.
Beside us, Jones is celebrating, his booming voice carrying over the chaos.
“So much for not counting his geese before they hatch,” Lexie pants, planting her hands on her thighs. “It’s a bit premature. Only Camila can call the winner.”
I squeeze her shoulder. “No matter what happens, you did great out there.”
Camila jogs toward us, eyes wide. “Ay, Dios mío! That was too close to call.”
Lexie straightens. “That means we’re tied for first place. What happens now?”
“We can’t end on a tie,” Jones interjects. “There has to be a winner.”
Lexie rolls her eyes. “God forbid you have to share a first-place title with gasp women.”
“It has nothing to do with the fact that you’re girls.” Jones rolls his neck. “It’s about winners and losers.”
“Yeah, because that’s so much better,” Kayla snarks, shooting him a dirty look.
Flamingo Boy waves his hands in a shushing gesture. “Why don’t we let Camila speak before we jump to conclusions?”
I sigh. Could he be any more perfect? He’s handsome, respectful, and…probably smart. He certainly can’t be any flakier than his friends.
“Gracias.” Camila tips her head in thanks before addressing the group. “Do not worry. We have a tiebreaker, but you must all come with me to determine your victor.”
A secret tiebreaker? Right. Because that doesn’t sound ominous…at all.