《 WATTY'S SHORTLIST 2021 》━ ❝WELCOME TO HART'S BAY.❞ where opposites attract. featuring » » » an ex-varsity swimmer and a hockey player. a once-wealthy server and a surfer on exchange. a daytime cashier and her nighttime counterpart. | presenting...
Fate is a funny and fickle thing. Especially in Hart's Bay.
It isn't always love-at-first-sight or a perfect connection. There might not be sparks or chemistry or even an inkling of interest in getting to know the other person. Sometimes, it's two people crossing paths at the wrong time in their lives. Oftentimes, it's awkward small talk, unspoken thoughts, or chance encounters dismissed as a series of strange coincidences.
Or in these cases, all of the above.
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Unlike fate, the weather is usually predictable in Hart's. Sunny with a chance of smiles, as the local weatherman likes to say.
But every now and then, something strange happens: the rain doesn't stop and the sky is dark for days. When Tess steps out of the house, she's tempted to turn back immediately and return to the comfort of her couch. Murky water is pooling on the sidewalks fast, and she reckons she might have to swim to the recreation centre. Or her shoes will get very, very wet.
But she takes a deep breath and forges ahead, tugging her jean jacket over her head to use as cover. It's taken a lot already to get here: out of the house, holding her duffel bag, contemplating how many laps she should do.
She's so busy counting in her head—five to start, or maybe six—that she almost misses the brown-haired boy walking out of the hockey arena. His expression is grim, eyes downcast and arms folded across the golden lion on his ALENDALE HOCKEY sweatshirt.
Maybe it's because he looks like he's had a tough practice and she knows what it's like, but her usual hesitation disappears and she decides to call out, "Kyle, right?"
He looks startled. At first, she thinks that he doesn't recognize her because he scratches the back of his neck, but he takes another step forward and nods. "I didn't get your name yesterday."
"Oh, oops." She flashes a sheepish smile because it's not the first time she's forgotten to introduce herself. "I'm Tess."
"Nice to meet you again." He shoves his hands in his pockets, eyes wandering past her. "I'm guessing you're here for a swim?"
"Something like that." Tess hoists the strap of her duffel bag higher, suddenly feeling the weight of it bearing down on her shoulder. It doesn't stop the little voice in her head from adding: Maybe. Are you really going to do it?
She tries to shake it off. Over the years, she's gotten rather good at hiding her nerves. You have to when you do anything competitively because it tricks your competition—and, most importantly, yourself—into thinking that you're readier than you've ever been. That's what her coach always told her. That's what a cutthroat varsity team does to you.
