Page 125 of Wish You Were Mine
“Sure,” I said, mustering a small smile. “That sounds fun.”
Yep…yay for sitting beside Theo while watching his sister flip across the mat in spandex, pretending I hadn’t kissed her senseless the night before.
38
OWEN
The arena was packed morethan usual tonight. Fans from both Eden Falls University and Yale had turned out in full force, filling every row of the stadium. The air practically pulsed with anticipation, the hum of conversation swelling beneath the vaulted ceiling, cheers ricocheting off concrete and steel. I sat beside Theo and Charlotte, trying to act like this was just another Sunday meet. Like I wasn’t secretly counting every heartbeat until Lucy’s turn on beam.
Charlotte, who’d been sitting quietly with her headphones and a coloring book, tugged on Theo’s sleeve. “Daddy, I have to go potty.”
Theo looked at the rotation list on his phone, then glanced up at the scoreboard. Lucy’s name was next.
He sighed like it physically pained him to miss her routine. “All right, bug. Let’s go fast, okay?” He turned to me. “Would you mind filming Lucy’s routine for me?”
I swallowed the knot forming in my throat and gave Theo a nod that I hoped looked casual. “Yeah, of course.” I pulled myphone from my back pocket, trying not to look like a guy about to commit professional suicide. “I’ll get a good angle.”
Because what was I supposed to say?Sorry, man, but filming your little sister feels like toeing every professional line I’m already trying not to cross?
The announcer’s voice cut through the low hum of the arena. “Up next on beam…Lucy Archibald, competing for Eden Falls University.”
A round of cheers rose from our section. I angled my phone toward the balance beam and hitRecord.
Lucy stepped into view, all focus and calm fire, her hair slicked back into a tight braided bun that didn’t move an inch. She raised one arm to signal the judges, then turned her attention to the beam, her expression steady and composed. A breath. A beat. Then, before I even had time to register what was happening, she launched off the springboard, twisting midair and landing in a crouch on the beam like it was second nature. No wobble. No hesitation. Just…total command.
She rose to her feet with that quiet confidence that always knocked the breath out of me, arms lifting in a smooth arc, drawing more cheers from the crowd.
But she wasn’t even close to being done.
She moved along the beam like it was just an extension of herself. Each movement strong, clean, deliberate. It was that signature mix of grace and grit that was so uniquely her.
I was always impressed by her, but this? This was next level.
She paused at the end of the beam, took a steadying breath, then launched into a tumbling pass—some kind of lightning-fast combo of handsprings that ended in a layout. And when she stuck the landing, the place went wild.
Her smile was radiant. She struck a pose—arms back, chin tilted.
Then her gaze slid toward my section.
Just a quick glance.
But I swear it landed on me.
And that was when it happened.
The shift.
The slow arch of her back. A teasing sweep of her legs. The tiniest wink—so quick it could’ve been nothing.
And I couldn’t be sure since her gaze only landed on me for a brief second before panning to another row, but…was she flirting with me?
I’d seen her do those moves for the cameraman the last time I was here, so I knew they were part of the routine. A way to showcase her personality, connect with the judges, draw the crowd in.
But this time, she was facing my direction.
And I couldn’t help but wonder…was she putting on a show for me?
As much as I loved it—loved the idea that maybe she was—it sent a jolt straight through my chest for a whole other reason.
