// Best YA Romance in the Romance Fiction Awards 2021//
Thrill Hawthorne, keeping up to his name, lives his life on the edge. Or so people think.
Ignatius Rookwood is the darling son and the sole male heir to a gigantic business corporation. Or so...
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It felt like Thrill was in a dream. The brain has a way of playing dumb at the worst moments, see, and watching the car of the only son of the Rookwood family fall over a bridge in the middle of nowhere was apparently one such moment. As if a sexual harassment lawsuit was not enough, Thrill was now going to be booked under murder.
Great. Just great!
By the time Thrill got out of his car and ran towards the railing of the bridge, Ignatius' bright red car had already submerged underwater.
"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"
He took off his shoes, and without another second's delay, jumped off the bridge.
Thrill Hawthorne - the youngest person to be featured in the biggest Adventure Sports Journal of the country - didn't get his name just like that; he had a reputation built behind it. Drayden would reprimand him for his daring adventures - bungee-jumping, rock-climbing, rafting, dirt biking, anything that made one feel the thrill of being alive, you name it - but who knew one day his skills would come in handy like this? Expertly, Thrill swam towards the sinking car.
Rookwood was unconscious behind the wheel.
Please be alive. Please be alive!
With significant difficulty, he pried open the door. Seconds later, he had opened the seatbelt and pulled Ignatius out of the car.
Seriously, why do people challenge their rivals to a race if they can't even drive in the first place? Stupid Rookwood. Stupid Rookwood with his stupid little brain. Thrill should just do this world a favour and let him drown.
Thrill broke out of the water, gasping for air. The boy in his arms, however, remained unmoving. Thrill tightened his hold around him and swam towards the shore. If Ignatius was dead, Thrill was going to be fucked big time!!
As if his desperation was heard by some random god passing by, two men swam towards them and helped carry Ignatius to the shore much faster than Thrill would've managed on his own.
"Are you okay?" one of the men asked Thrill as they crawled onto the bank.
Thrill nodded. "He - I don't know if - is he -?" He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.
The other older man was already in action - his palms on Ignatius' chest, pumping the water out of his lungs. He tried once, twice, thrice... Thrill simply sat and watched, barely breathing, his body growing numb and cold with each passing second--
Ignatius' eyes fluttered open and he rolled over onto his stomach, jerkily coughing out the water. Thrill felt relief rush into him and he sucked in a deep breath himself.
"You're okay..." the man told Ignatius who was clearly panicking. He was coughing and wheezing at the same time, a hand to his chest and the other clutching his forehead. Thrill would've found the sight hilarious if he hadn't just been scared witless.
