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“You’re amazing,” he whispered into my ear as he pinned my body to his.
I propped my hands on his chest so that I could look up at him. The smile he was wearing was so genuine that I had to suck in a quick breath.
“So amazing that I probably can’t date you anymore.”
“Mmm…” he murmured, pulling me closer so that I could feel the rumbling in his chest. “Are you going to trade up?” he asked before placing a kiss right behind my ear.
Hah.
I tried to think of a single person that I could trade up to… let’s see… there was… nope. No one. Liam was it. He was the person at the end of the day made me laugh the loudest and swoon the longest. He kept me on my toes and I liked hanging out with him— chatting, working out, and cooking dinner just as much as I enjoyed having rockin’-out-of-this-world sex. No really, I’m talking about some primo horizontal tango action.
There was no trading up.
I’d scored Liam Wilder.
I let my body collapse onto his and smiled into the warmth of his neck. “On second thought, I think I’ll stay right here.”
He laughed before wrapping his arms around me. “I’m so proud of you, Kins.”
“It doesn’t feel real,” I whispered into his neck.
He was quiet for a moment, and then finally he answered, “She believed she could so she did.” He was reminding me of the ink inscribed over my ribcage. Ink that I stared at every morning as I resolved to work harder than I had the day before, to push myself past my limits, because in the back of my mind I thought that maybe I was just crazy enough to reach my dream.
And today, in that very moment, I realized that all of the work had actually paid off.
“I did it.”
Epilogue
On the eve of my 20th birthday I sat in a plush limousine, watching the city lights blur together as we continued to drive toward downtown LA. So much had changed in the course of one year. I’d been on a rollercoaster ride and there was still no end in sight.
Becca and I had both been invited to try out for the Olympic team, and to our surprise, we’d both made it past the first round. And then the second… and then finally our names were the final two printed on the Olympic roster. We were by far the youngest on the team, and we’d had a lot to prove over the last few months. Practices had challenged me mentally and physically, but I didn’t take a single moment for granted. I’d had to step back from the ULA team and put school on pause for the time being, but none of that mattered. I wanted to play soccer and I’d landed my dream of competing at the world level.
“Are you all packed?” Becca asked, stirring me from my thoughts. I glanced back inside the limo to find her and Emily watching me with curiosity.
I shrugged. “I have a few last minute things to get, but yeah, mostly. I just need to remember to grab my passport.”
“As long as you don’t go too crazy at your party, you should be coherent enough to remember it in the morning,” Emily laughed.
I smiled at her joke and thought about how much effort Liam had put into tonight. On top of preparing to leave the country, Liam had planned an early birthday party for me. He’d kept every detail under lock and key, even when I tried to seduce it out of him. The guy wouldn’t crack, so I’d spent the day getting pampered with Emily and Becca, excited that there was a surprise waiting for me at the end of the limo ride.
“I don’t think I’ll drink at all, actually,” I said, staring down at my bright red dress. It was flirty with stretchy fabric, a dipped neckline, cap sleeves, and a flared skirt. It cut off fairly short, but I knew Liam wouldn’t mind.
“Yeah, same here,” Becca agreed. We both had to eliminate anything deemed “unhealthy” from our diets almost as soon as we’d made the team.
“Wait, so now I’m the craziest one out of the three of us?” Emily laughed.
I couldn’t help smiling as I thought back on the first night I’d dragged Emily to the LA Stars’ party. I thought I’d corrupt her, but in the end, the three of us sort of evened each other out. I like to think she gave me a bit of her calmness and I lent her a bit of my wild side. Becca just gave us both a ton of bruises.
“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll party with you when we get back from Sweden,” I winked just as the limo pulled up outside of a trendy club.
In a rush, an attendant ran forward to open our door and escort us out onto the carpeted walkway. I glanced up to take in the scene laid out before me. The club was modern, with sleek white walls and ivy twining up around a mid-century iron sign that read Tiger Lily, the name of the club. Hanging candles replaced the need for interior lighting so that the atmosphere seemed more intimate as we stepped past the front doors.
