Page 44 of The Hollywood Switch-up

The set faded to background noise—Martin’s voice, the drone of camera boats, someone shouting about light meters. None of it mattered. Only the machine bobbing in the shallows.

“You look like you’re about to face a firing squad,” Lily said, appearing beside her with a wetsuit.

“Worse.” Erika gripped the handlebars. “I’m about to get on this thing.”

“You’ve ridden one before, right?” Lily asked, eyebrows lifting.

“Once. At summer camp when I was fourteen.” Erika swallowed hard. “I mostly just went in circles and fell off.”

Lily let out a short, sympathetic laugh. “Well, try not to do that today. Martin is already on the warpath.” She handed Erika the wetsuit. “Wardrobe wants this under your costume. Keeps you warm when you inevitably end up in the water.”

“Hey.” Lily stepped closer, blocking the crew’s view of Erika’s trembling hands. “Remember how Jax made that stuntman practice the same fall seventeen times yesterday? Nobody gets on that water without his approval.” She tapped Erika’s collarbone with two fingers. “And this right here? Pure steel underneath. Your sister picked the right twin for this.”

Erika’s mouth twitched upward. “Debatable.” But the knot in her chest loosened. “Thanks, Lily.”

Stefan stood with his back to her, gesturing to Jax. Shirtless, his shoulders caught the sunlight, muscle shifting beneath. Burnt sienna and raw umber, she thought, the old artist’s instinct surfacing unbidden. He turned suddenly, his gaze finding hers.

His chin dipped, that small movement meant only for her.

She changed. Emerged in the wetsuit. Yesterday’s almost-kiss—his forehead against hers, the way he’d pulled back like she was something dangerous. She shoved the memory down.

Hands appeared—a PA fitting her earpiece, adjusting her life vest. “Arms up.” The straps cinched tight against her ribs.

Stefan stepped up beside her. “Just follow my lead out there,” he said, voice rough at the edges. “Don’t worry about the camera boats. Don’t worry about Martin. Just focus on me.”

Her fingers tightened on the life vest straps. When she looked up, his eyes were steady. She nodded.

Stefan’s mouth curved. “Race you to the second buoy. The loser buys drinks tonight.”

“You’re on.”

“Ready to get smoked, Morgan?” Stefan’s voice cut through the salt air. He walked toward his jet ski, yanking his wetsuit over his shoulders.

“In your dreams, Cruz.” The handlebars bit into her palms. “Try not to cry when you eat my wake.”

A thin strip of beach separated the water from the chaos of the set. Martin stalked the shoreline, barking orders.

Erika’s earpiece crackled to life with Martin’s voice: “Positions! Camera boats ready! Let’s keep the budget underwater, not the talent.”

“Rolling in three! Two! One! ACTION!” Martin’s voice cracked across the beach.

She jammed her thumb against the starter. The jet ski jolted, surging forward so violently that she almost lost her balance. Within seconds, she was slicing across the water, salt spray stinging her lips and eyes, each bounce over the waves jarring her teeth.

Stefan shot ahead, immediately taking the inside curve around the marker buoy. He was a show-off, leaning into the turns with one hand, waving to the camera drone as if it were a personal paparazzi. The wake he left behind was a wall of white, crashing into Erika’s chest.

“That’s all you’ve got, Morgan?” Stefan’s voice came over the earpiece.

“Keep talking. More air for me when you’re underwater.”

She cut across his path with a ruthless swerve, spraying a fan of white water directly into his face. The force of it knocked his sunglasses off, sending them arcing into the ocean with a very satisfying plunk.

“Those cost more than your car!” Stefan laughed.

“Bill me!” She maxed the throttle. The gap vanished. She was right next to him.

“You’re enjoying this,” he called over.

“Terrified, actually.” She wasn’t. Not anymore.