Sparks Like Ours

by Melissa Brayden

  “Awesome. We’re gonna get along, Andrew. I can just feel it.”

  He smiled and she knew she’d put him at ease, which was the ultimate goal. “We’re going to get you set up in the Jefferson Room. They have you answering questions with Gia Malone today.”

  She laughed. Oh, of course they did. These organizers were no fools. Not only were the two of them popping up in multiple, and conflicting, headlines together, Gia was rapidly rising in the rankings, and everyone wanted a piece of the rivalry. So be it. “Sounds good.” She spotted Gia speaking with a girl who was presumably the assistant assigned to her. “Excuse me a moment, Andrew. I’ll meet you in Jefferson in five. Sound okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She made her way through the groupings of people and arrived at Gia’s elbow. “Can I steal you for a minute?” she said quietly.

  Gia turned and met her eyes. “Oh. Hey. Yeah. Just…yeah.” She excused herself to the assistant and followed Elle. Once they were a safe distance away and alone, Gia paused their progress. “What’s up?”

  “We’re together today.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  Elle smiled. “What do you say we have some fun with these people?”

  Gia looked perplexed, but really pretty at the same time. Elle took a moment to take in how long her lashes were and how perfectly they accentuated her big brown eyes. That now familiar shiver moved through her.

  “And how exactly would we do that?”

  “Fodder. Let’s give it to them. They’re looking for competitive banter, or flirtation, or all-out tension filling the room. If they’re gonna make money off us, the least we can do is enjoy ourselves and bolster the Trainers campaign a little.”

  Gia smiled. “Could liven up a boring day.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “All right, then. Let’s do it.” A pause as a twinkle crept into Gia’s eyes. “Have any more dreams about me?”

  Elle swallowed hard as she led them in the direction of the Jefferson Room. “No. Can’t say that I have. I’m really sorry about that, by the way. What an embarrassing thing to confess to someone.” She was speaking way too fast. Gia made her nervous, as did the topic. She still didn’t have her hands around it.

  “You were drunk and feeling it.”

  Elle paused them in the hallway and waited for a couple of other athletes to pass. “I was. I would just hate for you to get the wrong idea. I think you’re, well, a lot less awful than I did just weeks ago.”

  Gia inclined her head from side to side as if weighing the statement. “I’m happy with less awful.”

  “That sounds bad. Let me try again. I genuinely like you. But in terms of any kind of attraction…”

  Gia scoffed dejectedly. “Fine, Elle. We’ll just be friends.”

  “Ha. Okay. I see. You’re joking about it now, which is great. It should be something that we can joke about easily. I’m glad to see that. It means we’ve moved past it.” She paused, and shifted her tone to earnest, feeling the need to continue explaining herself. When would that compulsion end? “I want to make sure you’re really okay about it and that I didn’t ruin what tiny bud of mutual respect we had going.”

  Gia held up a hand. “The tiny bud is intact. Honestly, it’s cool. I’m a grown-up and not weirded out.”

  “Great. That’s a relief,” Elle said, not quite sure if she believed Gia. “You know what? Why don’t we get dinner sometime? In fact, we really should. It would be good for us. Do you have plans after this?”

  “You’re asking me out already? That was quick.”

  Elle felt the color hit her face and burn her skin at the concept of an honest-to-goodness date with Gia. “No. I just meant a friendly—to chat is all. You know. Restaurants are fun.” She’d said stupider sentences, but not many.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  Gia grinned. “Yes, restaurants are fun.”

  She was still teasing Elle and enjoying it. Elle kind of enjoyed it, too. It felt…risky, somehow, the playful interaction with someone she’d fantasized about unconsciously (and a little consciously, too). Especially since she never fantasized, ever. This was all so new and unexplored.

  “So, dinner after?”

  Gia stared at her for what felt like forever. It seemed she was weighing the offer. “Sure. We can have dinner together. At a fun restaurant.”

  “Great,” Elle said, her confidence on an upswing as she rounded the corner into the Jefferson Room. Having dinner was a great idea. They’d have a chance to get to know each other better, and that just meant more time scoping out her competition. Which would only help her stay one step ahead in the long run. This was actually a really brilliant plan.

  And she wasn’t terrified at all.

  Nope. Not one little bit. A dinner alone with Gia, just her and Gia staring at each other across a table, was just what she needed to move beyond her current…preoccupation.

  * * *

  Elle looked gorgeous today. She’d done something fancy with her hair, assembled it in a complicated braid that Gia could never begin to understand. Some sort of intricate pattern. Hair had always been something she pushed out of her face, but Elle took her hairstyles very seriously and really put in the time. It had paid off.

  “What do you think about that, Gia?”

  She blinked. The reporter on the couch across from them had apparently asked her a question and she’d missed the whole thing. What in the world was he referencing?

  Elle passed her a smile. “About my steady training in preparation for San Clemente.”

  “I think training is great. It’s what has me winning so much.”

  “Well, you won the last tournament,” Elle said, with a big smile. “Everyone gets lucky once in a while.”

  “Until it keeps happening, negating the luck factor altogether.” She met the reporter’s eyes. “I’ll be taking San Clemente. You can write that down.”

  “She might take a heat,” Elle said. “Let’s all hope she takes at least one. Can you imagine the bruised ego if she doesn’t?”

  “Is that what you were feeling after the final in Fiji?” Gia asked, with a smile.

  “No,” Elle said, her eyes narrowing. “I was too busy wondering why you cut in on my wave when you had plenty of your own to choose from.”

  The two reporters exchanged wide-eyed looks and typed away on their laptops like busy little bees. Elle was right. It was kind of fun, playing to their audience. Not that all of it was an act. She honestly planned to take the Swatch Pro at San Clemente, and every tournament left on this year’s tour. Sparring with Elle about it had her fired up, and a little…wait. Turned on? No. That couldn’t be right. That’d never been a symptom of competition for her, so why would it be now? She glanced over at Elle, that braid, the blue eyes, and perfect face and the curves, and for the first time she acknowledged that she might want to do a little more than just compete with Elle Britton. While her first instinct was to shut that the hell down, she heard Katrina’s words in her ear, reminding her to feel her way through, rather than think. Surely she didn’t mean a scenario as crazy as this one.

  “What do you think about that, Gia?” Dammit. She’d done it again.

  “I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question?”

  “The rumors that you and Elle have been spending time together outside of the tour.”

  “Well, we’re working together on a campaign. It’s inevitable.”

  “And that’s about the end of it,” Elle said, with a smile.

  “Speaking of the end, I think we’ve come to the end of our time,” Andrew said, stepping forward. Luckily, this was the last interview of the day, and Gia had survived. She stood, shook hands with each of the reporters, and thanked them for their time.

  “Where should we go to dinner?” Elle asked Gia.

  Both reporters turned back abruptly and stared back at them in surprise. She was fairly certain that Elle had done that on purpose.

  �
�I’ll let you choose.”

  Once the reporters exited the Jefferson Room, Gia addressed Elle. “Are you sure that’s wise? They’re going to keep shipping us.”

  Elle passed her a sideways look. “What’s shipping?”

  “Imagining that we’re a couple. Projecting that kind of relationship on us. It’s a term my friend Isabel uses when—never mind.”

  Andrew stepped forward. “My sister ships everybody. The practice is rampant.”

  Elle marveled. “I had no idea. Shipping, huh?”

  Gia pressed on. “Isn’t your boyfriend going to be upset if these articles keep hitting the web?”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend,” Elle said, and gathered her bag.

  “Okay, but you’re straight.”

  Elle’s smile faltered noticeably and wrinkles appeared on her forehead. After a moment, she brightened to full Elle wattage again, leaving Gia intrigued as to what had just taken place in her head. “All press is good press, Gia. Good rule of thumb.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do. Let’s eat.”

  The restaurant Elle selected for them was one Gia had heard of. Popular, trendy, and hard as hell to get a table. Well, unless you were Elle, apparently. The host at the front made a huge fuss when he saw her, kissing her cheek and asking about her week.

  “Been a little hectic,” Elle answered. “Lots of press for the tour. How’s your mom?”

  “Much better. With that hip replacement, she’s good as new.”

  “Thrilled to hear it. Give her a kiss on the cheek and all my best.”

  “She would love that,” he exclaimed. “You know how she adores you.”

  “It’s mutual, Trevor. It’s mutual.”

  Did Elle literally know everyone in California? Was that a true possibility? As they were guided to their table, right in the center of the restaurant, Gia felt like she’d been dropped in the middle of Europe. The black, white, and red interior was outfitted with a handful of small, round tables leading up to a black and red bar. Wine bottles lined the walls, and the menu contained a handful of tapas dishes Gia couldn’t begin to decipher.

  “You’re a people person,” Gia said, as they settled across from each other.

  “I think that’s accurate. I happen to like people a lot. Don’t you? Isn’t that what makes the world go ’round?”

  “I like the people I know already.”

  Elle nodded. “But you have friends. I’ve seen them.”

  “True. I guess I have a small but close group. But you? You’re like the friendship ambassador.”

  “Some wine?” the sommelier asked.

  Gia liked wine but knew very little about it. She gestured for Elle to go right ahead.

  “I think we’ll take a bottle of your Cakebread Cab. The 2015 if you have it.”

  Quietly, Gia admired Elle’s confidence. Plus, she always smiled and treated people courteously. She remembered how not too long ago, she’d decided that Elle’s friendly disposition was 100 percent fake. And while she hadn’t bought into it entirely just yet, she was starting to understand that there was room for error in her initial judgment. What did Elle possibly have to gain from being nice to her assistant, Andrew, earlier? It was unlikely she’d see the guy again, but she’d gone out of her way to be warm and inclusive. Gia was willing to admit that she might have pinned a lot of resentment on Elle simply because she was the competition, and was not necessarily an awful person.

  “I believe we have the 2015,” the sommelier said, with a bow, and disappeared into the nearby wine cellar.

  “This can’t be good for your training,” Gia remarked with a smile.

  Elle placed a hand over her heart. “Oh, you’re so sweet to look out for me.”

  “That’s me,” Gia said, with a laugh. “The sweetest.”

  They stared at each other as the melody from the nearby Spanish guitar floated past. “So,” Elle said.

  “So.” Another pause. “What made you ask me to dinner?” Gia asked.

  “Honestly? It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.”

  Gia sat back in her chair. “One you’re regretting now?”

  Elle shook her head, and the music played on. “I wanted to get to know you better, and now I can.”

  “Scoping out the competition. Nothing wrong with that.”

  They waited while the sommelier poured the wine. Elle took a sip and basked. “It’s really good.”

  Gia liked the way she savored the taste, the way she pressed her lips together lightly at first and then more firmly. She had good lips. Gia tended to stare at them a lot.

  “Tell me, are you from California?” Elle asked.

  “No. I moved here when I was nineteen with hopes to make it onto the Qualifying Tour.”

  Elle seemed puzzled. “Okay, then where did you learn to surf if not here?”

  “Hawaii. My mother was a captain in the Air Force and we were stationed at a base there. I had this friend who would come to the islands to visit her family each summer. She talked this huge game about wanting to learn to surf.”

  “An influencer.”

  “Big-time. I looked up to her in every way.”

  “What was her name?”

  “Hunter, which I thought was so much cooler than a stupid name like Gia. She was smooth, and put together, and knew she was gay way the hell before I did. Everyone wanted to be around her. Meanwhile, I was just trying to figure out how to string two sentences together around girls I thought were pretty.” She laughed. “Still am.”

  “So, the girl with all the cool moves taught you to surf?”

  “Hardly. She was awful at it. But then I gave it a shot, and it’s like the world came into color.” She shook her head at the still-vivid memory. “When I finally managed to stand up on that board for the first time, it’s like I’d found my purpose. Sounds stupid, hearing it out loud.”

  Elle shook her head, and her eyes held understanding. “It’s the furthest thing from stupid I’ve ever heard. Tell me more.”

  “I practiced. Mornings before school. Afternoons following school. All summer long. Hunter gave it up after that first summer. Spent her time chatting up girls at the mall while I lived in the ocean with my board.”

  “And what happened to Hunter? The suspense is killing me.”

  “Honestly? I’m not sure. We lost touch when my mom was transferred back to the mainland. I’m confident she’s still landing more girls than I ever could.”

  Elle set down her wine. “Oh, I bet you do okay.”

  “Apparently the dream version of me does.” They looked at each other and laughed.

  Elle glanced away, a blush firmly in place. “As I may have mentioned before, it was the article about us that caused the whole thing. The one that was shipping us.” Elle smiled at her own use of the term. “I read it before going to sleep that night.”

  “Aha. So you find tabloid gossip…inspiring.” Gia tilted her head and caught Elle’s gaze. “I’m sorry if the dream made you feel awkward or upset you.”

  “It didn’t upset me,” Elle said. “Well, it did for a while.” A pause. “And then it didn’t.”

  They stared at each other. Gia wondered where all the sound in the room had gone. Her head felt light, like it might float away at any moment. She blinked and reached for her glass of wine. “Good. That’s good, then.”

  Their waiter returned and they ordered food, a combo of different Spanish tapas to sample. Again, she let Elle, who seemed more adept at the menu options, do the choosing. They each went for a second glass of wine as they chatted. Slowly, and with the help of time and alcohol, the mood shifted as they each relaxed.

  “What about you?” Gia asked. “When did you first get on a board?”

  “Oh. Well, I was a California kid through and through. My parents were beach people, so my brothers and I were in the water from the beginning. Got my first surfboard at seven. Won my first competition at nine.”

  “You were a surf prodigy. I do rememb
er hearing that part of the story.”

  Elle had the decency to demur. “I practiced a lot. Prodigy is a strong word.”

  “I don’t think it is, in your case. Not that it’s going to help you in San Clemente.”

  “You’re ruthless, you know that? And you’re not going to win.”

  “I’m driven. And I am, too.”

  Elle raised her glass and touched Gia’s. “To taking each other down. That should be the story of our joint memoir.”

  “Wow. First, you’re dreaming about me, then you’re asking me out to dinner, and now we have a joint memoir? You move fast.” She watched the recurring pink hit the tops of Elle’s cheeks and blossom, enjoying that she inspired it and wanting to inspire more, while at a loss at just how to navigate this new circumstance. Get out of your own head. Don’t overthink. She exhaled. She was trying.

  “I think about you differently since the dream. Is that weird?” Maybe Elle was really feeling the wine, but that comment sent a sweltering wave dissolving over Gia. She was glad they’d taken an Uber to the restaurant. They should definitely take separate ones home.

  “Do you have a crush on me, Elle?” She said it as a joke, a deflection, because that was easier, but she honestly had a stake in the answer.

  To Gia’s surprise, the self-assured smile slid right off Elle’s lips. “I mean, I don’t think so.” A pause as her gaze hit the tablecloth. “I don’t know. What if I did?”

  Gia laughed it off, and took another sip of her wine. Elle laughed, too, and they both seemed to do their damnedest to downplay the exchange as nothing but lighthearted banter. But there was a weighted charge between them now that was new and as intoxicating as the wine. The comment felt so far out of left field that Gia didn’t know which end was up. She was now having impure thoughts about Elle Britton, who in turn kept dropping hints of a possible attraction of her own, all because of a random sex dream? How in the world did they get here? Gia wasn’t sure, but she gestured for the check and distantly blamed Isabel. She needed some air, some space, and maybe a therapy session with Hadley, because this whole thing felt catastrophic and thrilling. She couldn’t decide which. It was both. It was everything. And the room had way too little air.