𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃, jeremiah fisher

eleven. it comes and goes in waves

jeremiah's pov

THERE IS AN eagerness running through my veins as I make my way down to the beach to get ready for the surfing competition.

It happens every year, and every year, it's the day I look forward to most. The competition is broken down into different categories based on age. It used to be broken down further based on gender, but they took it out because of the low numbers of people entering.

It doesn't really matter because in our age group, it always comes down to two people. Me and Autumn Cortez.

I don't remember a single year where someone other than one of us won in our category. There are others who enter, of course, but it's mostly just tourists. If you've lived in Cousins long enough, you know that it's pointless entering the competition against me and Autumn.

Although we never outwardly bet on who will win, it goes unspoken that the winner has bragging rights for the rest of the year. I won last year, and I take every chance I can get to rub it in her face.

I won't ever admit it to her, but the only reason she didn't win was because her knee had started acting up a week prior. Runner's knee, she called it.

She's a damn good surfer, and I would be lying if I said I actually thought I had a shot at winning the competition. It's entertaining, though, because both of us are competitive as hell and we're both too stubborn to admit defeat. It's one of the things I like about her. I haven't met many people who have her level of dedication and perseverance.

As I make my way down to the small booth where we're supposed to check in, I spot a head of dark curls emerging from it.

Her expression is entirely focused, present in the moment. Her lips are pressed flat and there's this gleam in her eyes that says she's ready to take down everyone that gets in her path toward victory.

I'm still staring at her when she spots me, a smug look crossing her face.

"Fisher."

"Cortez."

Her eyes quickly drop down to my bare chest and abdomen, and for a second I wonder if maybe she likes what she sees.

But then she looks away off-handedly and says, "I applaud you for coming all the way out here even though we both know how this is going to end."

I smirk. "You're right. With me winning, obviously."

She snorts. "You wish, Jerry."

"You know I'm right."

"Do I?"

She squints her eyes as if really contemplating it. I laugh at her, rolling my eyes.

Flicking her forehead, I comment, "You're obnoxious."

"And you're insufferable."

We grin at each other.

She opens her mouth to say something, but the announcer speaks into the microphone telling everyone in our age group to head over for the start of the competition. Autumn smacks my arm with the back of her hand and winks.

"See you on the battlefield, Jerry."

I'm frozen in my spot as she sends me one final glance and turns to walk to the booth on the far edge of the beach. On their own accord, my eyes drop down to her long, tanned legs. Fuck.

Shaking myself out of it, I follow behind her and try to focus on the task at hand: beating her.