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↷ ⋯ ♡ᵎ WIPEOUT

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ [4.4k] After waves of petty media stunts and jealous outbursts, you are forced to confront the reality of your feelings for Kiara when a surfing accident leads to a hospital room confession, while those closest to you question whether this cycle of heartbreak is destined to repeat...

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, jealousy, mild injury, unestablished & forbidden relationship, mentions of sexuality, classism, public rivalry, angst, poor sportsmanship, use of alcohol, degradation, my possibly extremely poor knowledge of surfing & related ideas (scoring, techniques, etc)

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THE SILENCE that followed the loud slamming of the bathroom door was heavier than the months of tension and secrecy. For Kiara, the world seemed to tilt on its axis, the hard bass of the music still playing downstairs suddenly felt like a harsh assault on her ribcage where her heart was trapped, beating erratically.

She stood alone in the marble-clad bathroom, the scent of your expensive perfume still lingering in the air, taunting her. She looked at her phone from where it sat on the counter next to her, the screen still glowing with JJ’s naive, drunken stupidity.

She reached for the device, snatching it up with white knuckles as the other still gripped the porcelain. She wanted to scream, to throw the phone through the mirror and pull her hair out, but instead, she basked in the painful ache of her own heart.

With a deep breath, more like an angry huff, she finally forced herself to unlock the door and step out into the hallway, scanning the crowd from the top of the stairs for a glimpse of your face, but it seemed that you had already left.

That was, until she spotted you rushing through the crowd, Sarah following drunkenly behind as you shouldered anyone in your way. You were just about to the front when you looked up, immediately finding her.

She didn't move or call out to you, she just stood frozen, watching you turn away from her and leave, the scene feeling as if it were happening in slow-motion.

"Kie! Yo!" A voice broke through as you disappeared through the door, the only proof you were there being your dragging shadow.

JJ stumbled toward her, a lopsided grin on his face and a half-empty bottle of beer in his hand. He looked like he’d been dragged through hell backwards, his blonde hair a mess and his face flushed red.

He reached out, his arm heavy and sweaty as he draped it over her shoulders, pulling her into his space, lips on her ear.

"Did you get my text? I found this room upstairs, totally empty. Thought we could... y'know," he slurred, leaning in to press a sloppy, wet, beer-scented kiss against the side of her neck.

Kiara stiffened, her hands curling into fists at her sides. Usually, she would have laughed it off or gone along with it, but tonight, his touch felt like a thousand small knives. It was wrong. It was repulsive.

It wasn't you.

"JJ, stop," she snapped, shouldering him back as gently as possible, but still firm enough for him to get the hint. Her voice was sharp, cutting through his own slurry haze.

"Whoa, okay, okay... Rough crowd tonight," JJ muttered, putting his hands up in mock surrender, shooting Kiara a questioning glance.

But he didn't stay back. He leaned in again, just JJ being JJ and not knowing when to back off. "What's gotchu all wound up, huh? You’re all serious 'n shit. C'mon, Kie. It’s just me..."

He pulled them away from the top of the stairs and further into the hall, trying to kiss her again as his lips brushed her jawline. But Kiara stood perfectly still, staring over his shoulder where the front door was. Her heart didn't just ache, it felt like it was being physically wrung out.

She knew exactly what you were thinking—that she was just playing a game, using you as some kind of experimental thrill while she had something...real waiting in the wings.

And that couldn't be farther from the truth.

Kiara pulled her phone out, ignoring JJ as he continued to mumble against her skin and opened the text thread with Atlas.

You Y/N, please. I wasn't lying. I didn't think you would care.

She watched the screen, her thumb hovering. She wanted you to respond, to know that you would still talk to her. But then again, she didn't. Because she feared what you might say.

JJ’s hand slid to her waist, and she didn't even move—too overtaken by her own fear. She just stood there, wondering why her heart hurt so much knowing she'd hurt you when that's what this whole thing has been about—your entire 'relationship' was this cataclysmic thing.

JJ's teeth grazed against the hot skin of her neck, her pulse jumping as her phone buzzed in her hand, a reply coming through. Her hand shook slightly as she read the text, her chest tightening as she read your reply.

Atlas I don't.

BY THE TIME Friday rolled around, the silence had almost started to feel normal, almost didn't weigh as heavy on your heart.

You had blocked Kiara right before you sped off from the party, your hands shaking as you hit the final button as drove home, Sarah chatting about nothing in the passenger seat.

You told yourself it was for the best, that Kiara Carrera was a distraction you couldn't afford, a pogue who didn't understand the stakes of your world.

A simple stranger.

A stranger you'd made the grave mistake of letting in.

But still, every time your phone buzzed, a part of you still hoped it was her.

Kiara, on the other hand, was spiraling. She had spent the week staring at her phone, realizing that none of her texts were going through. They were saying 'delivered' too fast and when she'd finally worked up the courage to call, the line didn't even ring once before going to voicemail.

She was blocked. You'd closed the gates, shut the door in her face, and Kiara was left on the outside, not even able to look in. She considered reaching out on Instagram or Snapchat, but she knew your socials were a heavily guarded fortress managed by a team most likely.

She didn't want to talk to your publicist or your coach or your parents, she wanted to talk to you.

Still, she opened Instagram anyway, her thumb hovering over the search bar. But before she could even type your name, the algorithm did its dirty work.

The very first post on her feed was from a popular OBX drama blog.

Despite the caption, the photo was high-resolution, likely taken by a professional or even your own media team.

Though everything about it screamed PR Stunt, Kiara felt a surge of jealousy, so burning hot it made her vision blur, jaw clenching so hard she felt her teeth bend under the pressure.

She debated leaving a mean comment or a snarky one. She even hovered over the 'Like' button, wanting you or just someone to see her name in the notifications, a reminder that she was watching.

But she decided against it.

She had a better trick up her sleeve.

If you wanted to play the media game, fine.

She would show you how pogues liked to play.

She took all of an hour to get ready and headed down to a spot on The Cut, a media-heavy area near the docks where tourists and fans often gathered. She made sure her friends were with her, texting them about a 'beach day'...and she made it a point to be all over JJ.

Despite their arrangement, when they were out and about, especially around friends, they kept it cool and casual. They weren't a couple—didn't act like one, didn't want to be one.

But, right now, she was a different person.

She kept her hand on his arm, kept jumping on his back, her laughter ringing out across the water as she chased him around—catching the attention of a small group of girls nearby who just so happened to be huge fans.

And when they finally sat down to chill on the docks, she didn't just sit next to him—she sat directly on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

She heard the distant giggling and faint camera shutters and that's when she knew she had it.

The rest of their friends were wasted and thought it was hilarious. Pope was laughing and John B was trying to hold his own back. But surprisingly, JJ... JJ wasn't having it, and gently but firmly pushed Kiara off his lap.

"Kie, what're you doin'?" he asked, his brow furrowed. He looked around, spotting the cameras. "You’re scaring all the other chicks, dude. This wasn't—...I thought we were just chillin'..."

"We are 'just chilling', JJ," Kiara said, her voice a little too high, a little too forced.

"No, you're bein' weird. And those girls over there are takin' pictures and you're just, like, feedin' into it. It's like you want them to see—". JJ looked at her, his blue eyes narrowing. "Jesus, is this because of Alexis? Or that Atlas person you've been keepin' all secret?" He stood up, shaking his head. "...Look, I’m cool with whatever we got goin' on, but I don’t like being used against someone else or as one of your media toys. That shit's not cool, Kie."

He walked away, leaving her standing on the dock. "Not cool at all," he repeated over his shoulder, scoffing and shaking his head at her.

But despite ending up on bad terms with one her closest friends, which she would fix later, the picture successfully ended up on the same drama blog within the hour.

You saw it while you were sitting across from Chase, on a double date with Sarah and Topper, who'd flown all the way from California to visit his girlfriend.

You were joking with him, playing the games on a kids' menu when Topper spoke up.

"Yo, check this out," He said, sliding his phone to the middle of the table. All of you leaned over to observe the screen, and the image made your heart drop. "Your girl is moving fast. Looks like she and Maybank are official."

You immediately choked on air.

"What?"

With wide-eyes, you picked up Topper's phone from the table, eyes rapidly darting across the screen.

You felt the jealousy materialize in your gut, rage rising to your face, but you swallowed it down, fixing a smile on your face as Chase leaned in to look at the screen, scoffing and gently prying it from your grip.

"Good," He smirked, eyeing you and your friends. "Maybe having a boyfriend will finally get her off of your ass. Give her somethin' else to worry about."

You hummed, shifting uncomfortably as Chase slid Topper's phone back to him, praying you didn't look or sound as pissed as you were. "Yeah," you mumbled, twirling the crayon in your hand. "Yeah, I guess."

A FEW WEEKS LATER, an impromptu competition was organized at The Point. It was a 'locals only' affair, organized for fun by another surfer on the island.

No big sponsors, no official rankings—just a little fun, a place to gather, and a 'chance to earn some street cred', as Chase had put it.

You were chilling at your house when he brought it up, outside by the pool as you waded in the water and he lounged nearby.

"You should do it," He said, leaning back in a lounge chair, sunglasses on the tip of his nose. "It would give you some serious respect here. Everyone thinks you’re just a poster girl—"

"Which I'm not," You sassed, floating aimlessly.

"...Yeah, and I know that." He sassed back, tipping his head to look at you with a small smile. "But they don't." He told you, eyes on you as the water rippled around you. "Show them you can be risky. Show them you can go head-to-head with Kiara in her own backyard."

He straightened in his seat, throwing his legs over the side and leaned his elbows on his knees, his voice dropping. "Look, you said she’s always saying you’re favored in the pro world, that everything is handed to you. Show her she’s wrong. Show her you earned it."

You pondered for a moment—for one, you knew your parents would have simultaneous heart attacks, and two, you knew the rest of your team would advise against it...but the fire in your chest was too hot to ignore.

"Fine," you said, shrugging as you turned away from him. "Let's do it."

The Point was crowded with teens and young adults, the air smelling like bonfire smoke and cheap beer.

You and Kiara spotted each other across the sand almost immediately. You were wearing a skin-tight, deep red wetsuit that made you stand out against the gray Atlantic water, and Kiara shot you a glare.

But it wasn't mean or cold. It was almost...longing.

But the part of you that was still fuming wouldn't allow you to see that, and so you returned the glare with a mean snarl.

And as you were waxing your board, Kiara approached you carefully. She looked different—less cocky than before, more desperate.

"...Can we talk?" she asked, her voice low. "About the party. I tried to explain—"

She cut herself off when you didn't even look up, your eyes on your board as the silence between you stretched thin.

So, she switched tactics.

"I saw the photos with Chase," Kiara continued, her voice gaining a sharp edge. "Smart move. But I know the truth." She leaned in behind you. "You can hide behind the cameras, but you can’t hide from me—"

You stood up then, fixing her with a cold, dead-eyed stare. "You don't know anything." You quipped. "You’re just some girl who I stupidly thought was different. But you're not. That's the difference between you and me." You continued on, stepping closer. "I'm special and you're not. And me being the kind of 'special' that I am, the kind of special you hate so much, is what got me everything I have now. Everything you will never have." You told her, looking her up and down. "...Y'know, I'm glad you didn't want my 'charity'." Your eyes narrowed, bending down to pick up your board and tuck it under your arm.

"It wouldn't have done much for someone as helpless as you, anyway."

Before she could respond, the whistle blew, and all the surfers went rushing to the edge of the shore, you leaving her abandoned on the sand.

The waves were massive—chaotic and aggressive. You and Kiara were both out in the water, out-paddling everyone else. Then, the big one came. The biggest wave of the day.

You both raced for it, not sparing the other a glance, but you reached the peak first, claiming the line. You popped up, feeling the rush of the drop as the wind and water droplets decorated your cheeks, but unbeknownst to you, another surfer was tailing you too closely.

He was known around the island for being competitive and reckless, and it was clear he didn't care about the rules of the lineup.

Before anyone could call out and warn you, on shore on in the water, he clipped your board.

For a long moment, the world turned upside down. You were knocked into the churning water, the force of the wave driving you down. You hit something—a rock or a sandbar, you didn't know—and felt a sickening snap in your ankle.

When you resurfaced, the pain was excruciating. You were heaving, trying to catch your breath and stay afloat as you were swept away by the current, your board long gone. Chase and the people on the shore were freaking out, shouting and pointing, but they were too far away.

Kiara was the only one who didn't hesitate. She ditched her board and dove into the water, swimming toward you frantically, hair and salt water in her eyes.

"Hey!" you gasped as she reached you, her hands on your sides. "Hey, get away from me! I'm fine—"

"Shut up and let me help you!" Kiara screamed back, grabbing the front and back of your wetsuit and pulling you toward her.

She swam you back to shore, her grip tight and unwavering as you silently admired the side of her face and the determination in her eyes.

By the time you reached the sand, you were shivering and oddly pale. Your wetsuit was torn, and your right ankle was twisted at an odd, sickening angle.

"Is it broken?," you wheezed, voice small as the pain started to win.

Chase rushed over, pushing through the growing crowd around you, looking panicked. He dropped down beside you, hands hovering over your frame as his eyes scanned you from head to toe, landing on your ankle. "Fuck. Oh God, I—" He stammered, searching for the right words as his eyes met yours.

"Chase, it's okay," You reassured, hand on his arm as he shook his head. He didn't hesitate before he scooped you up bridal style, apologizing over and over as he carried you toward his truck.

Over his shoulder, your eyes landed on Kiara stood on the beach, drenched and frozen in place at the front of the crowd, her eyes following you until the truck pulled away.

THE HOSPITAL was a blur of fluorescent lights and the smell of antiseptic. The doctors confirmed it to be a Weber B fracture. It wasn't the worst break, but it would unfortunately take a solid two months to heal fully.

They cleaned the 'road rash' on your arms and wrapped your ankle in a heavy cast.

"We are going to have to keep you overnight," the doctor said, a nice dark-skinned woman with beautiful curls. "Standard procedure for high-impact water injuries. We need to monitor for concussion and any possibility of water in your lungs."

Once she left the room, Chase stayed with you for a while, looking guilt-ridden. "I shouldn't have pushed you," he said softly, holding your hand. "I’m so sorry."

"It's okay, Chase, really," you said, your voice tired as you offered him a pity smile. "It could have been worse."

You appreciated his concern, and you felt almost just as guilty, if not more, for the fact that your relationship with him started as publicity stunt when he was showing genuine interest and concern. Chase was a good guy, and it hurt you to know that you'd have to hurt him eventually and let him go. He deserved someone who didn't use him, someone who was into him—someone who was into guys.

He sat with you and brought you something to drink and left an hour later, when the nurse came to give you your meds, to tell your parents in person. "They should hear it from me," he said. "I feel responsible."

An hour after Chase left, the door to your room creaked open with the last person you expected to see.

Kiara was standing there, looking exhausted, wearing a fresh change of clothes and holding a bag of food.

"I, um, brought you something," she said, her voice small as she stood in the door frame. "I remembered you said you liked the BLT from The Wreck in that interview you did a while back. It's my parent's restaurant, so..."

You remained silent, turning away from her to stare out the window.

"I’m sorry," Kiara said, slowly entering the room, taking your silence as an invitation, and sitting in the chair next to your bed. "About everything. The party, the text, the stupid, even all the media bullshit..."

She looked down at her hands. "JJ and I... we started hooking up a while back. It was after I had a really bad breakup. I was...hurting, and he was there." She admitted, looking at the side of your face. "But there is nothing romantic there. I swear. He’s my best friend, but he’s not... he’s not who I want. We haven't even touched each other like that since that first night you and I hooked up."

You finally looked at her, turning away from the window, your gaze cold. "You expect me to believe that?"

"Yes, I do. Because it's the truth," Kiara said, her face dropping into a frown. "I promise."

You sighed, shaking your head. "It doesn't matter," you said, your voice cracking. "Whatever we had... it was just sexual. It wasn't anything." You lied, your own words hurting your heart.

Kiara didn't flinch. She just looked at you with a sad, knowing smile. "I don't believe that you believe that." She said, her hand on the rail of the hospital bed as she leaned in further. "I know you’re not the monster you pretend to be for the cameras."

Your eyes met hers and the silence stretched between you for a long time. Finally, you spoke, your voice a mere whisper.

"...Was it a girl?"

Kiara blinked, confused. "What?"

"The breakup. The ex." You clarified. "Was it a girl?"

Kiara hesitated, swallowed, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then nodded. "Yeah," She told the truth. "Yeah, her name was Alexis."

You hummed, chewing the inside of your cheek. "So, are you, like, out?" you asked.

"To my friends, yeah." She shrugged. "My parents...suspect, I think. But I'm not exactly scared to tell them, I'm just...not ready to have that conversation yet. But the public? No." Kiara leaned back. "Alexis wasn't out. She used me, as much as I hate to admit that. She liked the thrill of being with a girl, liked the way it pissed off her parents...but she didn't actually like me. I was just an experience for her..."

"Did you care?" you asked, looking at her tentatively. "About being seen with her?"

"No," Kiara said firmly, shaking her head once. "I didn't care. I like who I like." She shrugged. "And I don't think it should be this...big thing. I’m not hiding, I’m just... living."

She looked at you, waiting for a response, your thoughts, just something—until she pondered on a question of her own. "What about you? Have you...ever been with a girl?"

"No, not really, anyway," you admitted, feeling a flush creep up your neck. "Um, before you,... the most I’d ever done was kiss a girl." You admitted, shying away. "...When things got too intimate, I’d take a step back and, I don't know, disappear, I guess. I’d pretend like it never happened." You admitted easily, trying to be as open as possible.

This was the most real conversation you and Kiara had ever had.

"...What makes me different?" Kiara asked softly, fiddling with her hands.

Your eyebrows shot up at that. "Oh, uh, I don't—I don't know," you said, looking at your cast, wiggling your foot side to side to distract yourself. "I honestly don't know."

The conversation was cut short, Kiara not getting a chance to think or reply when Sarah burst into the room. "Oh my god! I heard what happened—" She stopped dead when she saw Kiara, hand still on the door handle as she stood in the doorframe, her eyes fleeting between you and Kiara as silence filled the room. "...What is she doing here?"

You sighed, stealing a glance at Kie. "We were just talking, Sarah," you said quickly, trying not to seem weird. Sarah would know.

But Kiara stood up, smoothing her shirt and sending you both a small. slightly awkward smile. "I should...I should head home." She said, shifting on her feet before she looked at you on the hospital bed. "I’m glad you’re okay, Davenport."

And then she left without another word, squeezing between Sarah and the door. When she was down the hall and long gone, Sarah closed the door and hovered over you with a skeptical look, wasting no time before badgering you about why Kiara was really there.

"Look, cut her some slack." You interrupted your best friend's rambling. "She saved me, Sarah," you said, dismissing her. "Despite the stupid rivalry, she’s a good person. She just wanted to check in..."

Sarah huffed, looking away and out of the hospital window before shrugging egotistically. "I'm still your only best friend," She joked, though...her eyes remained skeptical.

OUTSIDE THE HOSPITAL, the night air was cool and it was already growing dark, the street lights flickering on. Kiara was walking toward the parking lot, her mind a clouded mess of your conversation and however her feeling for you were starting to change—evolve.

However, just before she reached her car, she found JJ leaned against his bike in the parking space over, his helmet resting on the seat.

She stopped in her tracks, car keys swaying in her hand. "...What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you the same thing," JJ shrugged, his voice level. "...I admired you saving her, Kie. That was a boss move. But I don't get this." He threw a hand out in the direction of the hospital. "You went out of your way to get her favorite food? And you’ve been in there for over an hour—"

"Were you following me—"

"You're damn right, I was." He looked her in the eye. "Is she Atlas?"

Kiara scoffed, looking around aimlessly. "What—"

"Kie." JJ asserted, cutting her off and looking her dead in the eye, a look that demanded the truth.

Kiara looked at him, eyes wide and pleading before she took a breath and nodded, a hand soothing her forehead. "Yeah..." She admitted, dragging the hand down her face as JJ sighed, cursing under his breath as he paced on the spot. "But you can't say anything to anyone, JJ, please—" She tried, stepping closer to him.

"Why?" JJ asked, his voice tinged with frustration as he whipped around to face her. "Because you're supposed to hate each other? Or because you've fallen in love with, yet, another girl who doesn't want anyone to know that she likes girls?"

Kiara flinched, jaw clenching at his words. "Don't—She's not...She’s not Alexis." She asserted, narrowing her eyes at the blonde. "She’s nothing like her."

"I don't know, Kie," JJ said, standing up straighter and shrugging. "I seeing too many similarities."

"JJ..."

"Rich, picture-perfect image, closeted and terrified of anyone knowing who she really is." He counted off on one hand. "You’re setting yourself up for a fall. Again."

"It's not like that," Kiara insisted, getting more agitated by the second. "I learned my lesson."

JJ sighed, laughing to himself while pulling his helmet on. "Fine. If you think so. But I’m telling you now, Kie—I won't be there for you to cry to when it all goes to shit again." He snapped. "I’m done being the guy you run to when the girls break your heart."

"That's fine," She quipped. "Because it won't."

"Whatever you say," JJ muttered, drawing his lips into a thin line, before revving his engine, kicking the kickstand up, and disappearing into the night.

next chapter >

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