Girl on Track

69| Victory

The moments following my win are chaos. The media surrounds me, taking photos for the local papers and shoving their recorders in my face. Public speaking is not exactly my forte, but when one of the reporters asks a question, Tyler's encouraging squeeze of my hand gives me the courage I need to face them.

For the next five minutes, we smile and grin as I'm asked question after question about my glorious victory. I have to admit, despite not liking being the center of attention, it feels nice to be recognized for something I've worked hard for; it feels validating. And having Tyler beside me, knowing he's as happy for me as I would have been for him, means everything.

As time goes on, more and more people start to gather around us. They're busy asking me where I go from here and what's on the cards for me as a racer, but just as I open my mouth to speak, I glance at Tyler and freeze. He's standing behind me – half-obscured by a reporter trying to get a close up of my face without my helmet – completely forgotten in my glory.

For a moment, I just stare at him. From the gleam in his eyes, it's easy to tell that he's happy for me, but there's an air of hollowness in his expression as he looks past the crowd in search of his father, thinking about the disappointment he knows is waiting for him. And just like that, my heart breaks. Not just breaks but shatters into pieces for him. Here I am, living one of the best days of my life while he's living what I'm certain is one of the worst.

I turn back to the reporters, smiling, and say, "I'll let you know when I figure it out." Then I reach out behind me, take Tyler's hand back, and lead him away from the crowd.

His fingers wrap around my palm as we walk. I wait until we're back in our spot, away from the crowd, before turning to him. I hadn't noticed before, but his eyes look tired, as though he's had no sleep. I reach up gently and brush my thumb across the hollow of his cheek, my stomach now in knots.

"I'm sorry," I say, and I think this is it, the moment that everything changes between us, the moment I've been dreading. "I know you're upset, and–"

He frowns at the same time he pulls me in closer. "You think I'm upset right now?"

I pause, and then, "Aren't you?"

He shakes his head in disbelief. "No, sirenita. Tired as hell, maybe, starving, but not upset. How could I be?" He steps even closer, taking my face in his hands to look at me. Slowly, he grins. "My girl's a champion."

Something delightfully warm fills my chest and makes itself at home. "But I saw your face during my interview," I say. "You looked...I don't know."

There's a second where he doesn't speak; he just reaches out, brushing his thumb across the side of my cheek. "You want the truth?" he asks.

I nod. "Always."

"For about a second, a part of me wished I'd been the one to cross that finish line first," he says, "but then I realized I didn't even want it for me, sirenita, I wanted it for him. And the longer I stood there listening to you talk, the more relieved I felt. Maybe now that my dad has no choice but to accept my defeat, he'll finally let go."

Suddenly, my arms are around him, hugging him tighter than humanly possible. It's hard to say what comforts me more, the fact he's still happy for me despite losing the race or that he's ready to stand up to his father. Either way, I have never been prouder of him.

"Whatever he says, just know that I'm proud of you," I say, and he holds me tighter. It's the kind of thing his father should be saying, not me, but I know he needs to hear it, and not just the times when he wins a race, but the times he loses too.

He presses his mouth to my jaw and says, "You know how lucky I am to have you?"

"I know," I say, "I'm amazing."