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.
