For The Plot// F1

Chapter 14: The Current Between Them

The girls nodded, murmuring their agreement, but Catalina could see the nerves vibrating through them.

She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a second, then turned to face them.

"Hey," she said softly, but her tone carried. "We've done this a hundred times. This is just one more race. Same rhythm. Same trust. You all know me—I'll call the pace. You just follow. Don't think about the crowd, don't think about the other boats. Think about us."

Anna smiled shakily. "You're such a menace before races, Cap."

"Damn right I am," Catalina said, smirking. "Now let's show them why they call us the Sirens."

A cheer went up—raw, defiant, proud.

Still, as they began heading toward the docks, Catalina's stomach was tight with adrenaline. Her mind flickered to the crowd gathered near the grandstands—the media, the scouts, maybe even sponsors from the Olympic committee. This was the race that could define everything.

And then she heard it.

A voice from behind, cutting through the noise like a dull knife.

"Well, well," said a girl from another team—sleek uniform, hair slicked back, smug smirk. "If it isn't Miss Villalobo. Surprised you had time to train, considering how busy you've been with Carlos Sainz."

A few nearby heads turned. The smirk deepened. "Or should I say, under Carlos Sainz?"

A hush fell over the few meters around them.

Catalina froze for half a second, her jaw tightening. Then, slowly, she turned to face the girl. Her lips curved into something sharp—something that wasn't quite a smile.

"Jealous?" she asked, voice calm, almost curious.

The girl blinked, thrown off. "Excuse me?"

Catalina tilted her head, eyes glittering with something dangerous. "Are you jealous that I got to sleep with Carlos Sainz, or jealous that he'd never even look at you?"

A few of her teammates snorted, and even Coach Margaret looked like she was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

The other girl's face went red, her mouth opening like she wanted to snap back—but Catalina was already turning away.

"Save your breath," she said over her shoulder, her tone almost lazy. "You'll need it for the race."

Anna whispered under her breath, "Captain: one. Random bitch: zero."

Catalina didn't even glance back. She was already back in her head, recalculating the wind, watching the ripples on the surface, measuring the light chop near the center lane. Every ounce of her focus locked onto the race ahead.

Margaret came up beside her, hands behind her back. "Good composure," she murmured. "You didn't let her get under your skin."

Catalina's mouth twitched. "Oh, she got under it for half a second. Then I remembered she's going home empty-handed."

Margaret let out a small, approving hum. "That's my captain."

The whistle blew then—five minutes to lineup. Catalina turned to her crew, voice steady, heart pounding in rhythm with the crowd's distant roar.

"Let's go," she said. "Time to wake the water."

And as they lifted their oars and stepped toward the docks, Catalina felt the world narrow—no crowd, no noise, no Carlos. Just her heartbeat, the river, and the team that trusted her to lead them through it.