Into the Churn

by Hayley Reese Chow

“Ready?” Foster offered Ezren his elbow, but when she smiled up at him, he could see the nervous worry shining between her lashes.

It made him jealous of Davis Banda for getting to spend those years with her all to himself.

Bex and Grady paused to pose for a few pictures—Bex popped a hand on one hip and propped her other elbow on Grady’s shoulder, looking bored while he gave her the winning smile that had captured the hearts of so many fans.

Ezren pressed a kiss directly on his mouth, her lips cool against his own. Her eyes were closed as she balanced awkwardly on her toes, her body only inches from his, and for a beat, Foster froze. What. Is. Happening.

Foster couldn’t parse over the buzzing in his ears. Do. Not. Fritz. Out.

Wait. Stay blime. Just relax, he reminded himself. It wasn’t a big deal. It was just a kiss. It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it… a lot. It was just… not how he imagined it.

Foster rubbed the back of his neck, not at all sure how to feel. She’d faked the kiss… but it had been to keep them together?

Because the next time they kissed, he wanted it to be just for them—and he wanted it to be real.

There was even a pair of tiny ark-cats watching the newcomers from a recliner, their six tails flicking idly.

Ezren’s eyes shone along with them, but she didn’t meet Foster’s gaze. Unsurprisingly, the twelve-hour ride in the cramped storm truck had done nothing for the weirdness between them. Just chaffing great.

Foster turned and came face-to-face with perhaps the second-biggest celebrity Belethea had to offer, a top-ten royaler in the BRR, and the coach of Naris Station. He didn’t even bother with a polite smile. “Mother.”

“Winning is hard.” “Too bad you wouldn’t know,” Foster said, stepping in front of the speechless Sylvia.

His hand spasmed, and he kneaded it with the other.

“Being on a winning team.” The words crashed into him, the shards of truth prickling him with shame. “Oh.” He stopped, wanting to reach out and touch her. Yes, he liked to win, but he’d much rather be here with Ezren, even if they lost. Didn’t she know that?

He internally banged his head against the wall. Somehow, in the space of a day, he felt like he was losing Ezren. And while there were a lot of things he didn’t know, he did know he couldn’t do this without her.

Heat rushed to Ezren’s cheeks at the thought of steamy pictures of Foster, and she had to will herself not to go looking for them.

Stepping into the hall, she nearly bumped into Foster, his own hair still wet and steaming, and nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

Heat rushed to her cheeks as her eyes darted to the towel and back up his muscular body.

They were so close now, Ezren could feel the heat coming off his skin, and the urge to touch him nearly overwhelmed her. She had to get out of here.

“Normally I wouldn’t ask… but you’re not having a lover’s quarrel the night before the first big royale, are you?” Ezren’s brows shot up in surprise, and her face flushed once more. “Not lovers. Just doubles.” Bex almost never spoke to her about anything, so for her to witness this was more than a little humiliating.

“Vieve was good, but Sylvia didn’t bring you on to replace her. Belethea needed someone fresh.” “Even though I’m chaff?” Ezren said with a laugh. “Being new doesn’t mean you’re chaff.” Bex’s game chirped with a high score. “You’re allowed to be a beginner. Besides, everyone’s trying to improve in some way.”

Ezren dangled on the edge of sleep before Bex’s monotone voice rolled through the dark. “Still working on being a good teammate.” Ezren’s eyes opened in surprise. “I think you’re doing well,” she whispered. “Shut up and go to sleep already, Hart,” Bex grumbled, a fondness softening the words.

“You said two miles, right?” She looked at the map in her goggs again. She had to try. If there was even the faintest chance he was waiting for her, she had to take it.

“Sure,” she replied. “I’ll ask Sylvia for a bucket of ice.” Grady didn’t even flinch. “Now, now, save the violence for the scraps.” “I’m not even sure that would wake up Ezren,” Foster said. “That girl sleeps like the dead. There have been days I’ve had to actually shake her awake.” “You mean sleeping beauty doesn’t wake up with a kiss?” Grady smirked. “Maybe she’s just waiting for her Prince Charming,” Sylvia teased, plucking a synth strawberry from her plate.

Swallowing the strange knot in his throat, he raised his hand and knocked. Then he laughed at himself. There was no way Ezren would wake up to that.

Foster’s teeth ground together, his hands tightening into fists. “What do you mean ‘fun with her’?”

Oh, suns. Ezren never turned back from anything. “Where. Is. She?” Foster said, pronouncing the words slowly.

“You sent her into a whiteout by herself?” Foster lunged forward, barely managing to restrain himself from throttling Callie. “What the fod is wrong with you?” She flinched back, her eyes wide as if he’d slapped her.

“No way, Foster, you can’t go out there,” Sylvia hissed. “And you can’t stop me,” he said, already jogging away. “The temperature’s still dropping, and if she’s hurt, she needs help now.”

The look on her face as she closed the door on him last night stuck in his thoughts. He should’ve busted into the room right there and explained everything. Cleared the air. Now she was missing, and he hadn’t even gotten a chance to explain himself. He should’ve known better than to let things go unsaid.

But Foster was still out there. If she turned around without him, she was sentencing him to death. Period. His only hope was in the storm den, and he probably didn’t have the locations uploaded to his goggs like she did, per her mother’s long-standing requirement for surface runs.

She shoved her hands under his arms and around his chest. “Okay, Foster, this isn’t going to be graceful, but it’ll be fast. We’re going to be okay.”

Thank the suns the bag was wide, and she was small. She slid in next to Foster, shaking uncontrollably, and with the last bit of her strength, unzipped their suits, peeling them to their waists. Sensing their skin, the bag reacted with a soft green glow of warmth.

Her gaze focused on Foster’s face only inches from hers and then proceeded to trail down his shirtless torso, pressed decidedly against her sports bra. Oh… my… suns. What had she done?

There was an explanation. They were lying in a sack together for survival, and suns help her, she would not make this awkward.

He raked an agitated hand through his brown waves, his voice lowering to a grumble. “I can’t believe you thought I would leave without you. I always come to get you.”

He held her gaze now, his face so close she could feel his even warm breaths on her cheek. “I always come to get you.”

And Ezren really didn’t have anything to say to that. Something about it made her insides melt into a dysfunctional puddle of mush.

He removed his hand, and Ezren tried not to miss the feel of it on her skin.

Instead, a picture of a boy alone in a fancy house took over her mind. Although Foster seemed matter-of-fact about it, it sounded incredibly lonely.

“Waffle’s a capybog—a genetic mix between a capybara and a dog.”

“That was pretty blime of your dad. Regen is rough. I could’ve definitely used a capybog during mine.”

Foster held up one hand and wiggled his fingers. “Yep. Racing crash. Lost my right hand two years ago.

“I was lucky. Full regen in six months, off integration meds in twelve, but it still hurts whenever I use my fingers too much.

For a moment, Foster was silent, and Ezren could almost hear him thinking in the quiet.

Ezren slapped her hand to her forehead. The suns were punishing her. For what, she didn’t know. She hadn’t even realized she had so many topics she wanted to avoid until today.

Foster propped himself up on his elbow, the heating bag falling away from his muscled chest, and his gray-green eyes piercing her.

“Vieve and I were never in love. We didn’t even like each other.”

“I wasn’t into it?” Ezren threw up her hands, her exasperation overcoming her embarrassment. “Well, you didn’t kiss me back. So what was I supposed—” Then his lips were moving against hers, his bare chest pressed against her sports bra, and his hand warm on her cheek. And this was no friendly peck, no polite kiss for the cams. His mouth was hot and searching, and she responded in kind. Every hair on her body stood on end, her back arching into him, until just as suddenly, he pulled away.

His breath misted in the air between them, smelling of sweet mint. “But that does not mean I don’t want to kiss you.” He bent down and kissed her again, gently this time. “Oh,” she breathed, blinking rapidly, her thoughts and heart and stomach one huge fluttery mess. “Forget about all that fake stuff, Ezren. I want us to be real.”