Chapter 291
Aria’s POV
I glimpsed Claire across the dining room, animatedly pointing out dishes she thought I’d love. My mind wasn’t on the food though. That nagging question had been eating at me all evening.
“Claire, can I ask you something?” I finally blurted out.
She glanced up, a bit startled by my serious tone. “Sure, what’s up p>
I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “That thing you mentioned earlier, about me saving you five years ago… was that actually true or were you just saying that for Aiden’s benefit p>
The truth was, I’d been racking my brain for hours and couldn’t remember any heroic rescue on my part. At twenty-five, I wasn’t exactly in the business of saving damsels in distress.
Claire’s eyes widened before her face broke into an amused smile. “God, that’s what you’re worried about? Of course it was true!” She playfully swatted my arm. “Though I’m a little offended you don’t remember. Guess I didn’t make much of an impression, huh p>
Heat crept up my neck. “I’m really sorry. I just… I’ve been to so many competitions back then, and I honestly can’t place it p>
“Fine, I’ll give you a hint,” Claire sighed dramatically. “Five years ago, jet ski competition in Tampa Bay. Ring any bells p>
I bit my lip, searching my memory. Nothing. My early twenties had been a blur of competitive events up and down the coast. Claire must have read the blank expression on my face.
“Wow, seriously? I’ve been trying to find you for ages, and you completely forgot I existed?” She clutched her chest in mock heartbreak.
“I feel terrible,” I admitted, genuinely embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Claire p>
Just as I was apologizing, I caught her eyes darting past me. Aiden was approaching. A mischievous glint appeared in her expression.
“Lean closer,” she whispered conspiratorially. “I’ll tell you exactly when you saved me p>
Without thinking, I bent toward her. “When was p>
The soft brush of lips against my cheek made me freeze. My skin tingled where Claire had kissed me, and I felt heat rush to my face. What the hell?
Weirdly, Claire acted like nothing had happened. While my heart pounded uncomfortably, she simply leaned to my ear and whispered, “After that competition in Tampa, remember? The tide was coming in fast, and I got caught in the water. You came back for me when everyone else had already left the beach. Still don’t remember p>
I blinked rapidly, trying to process both the unexpected kiss and the memory she was attempting to jog. My thoughts were scattered, especially knowing Aiden had probably witnessed the whole thing. What was Claire playing at?
Claire’s POV
That night at the beach was the night I truly thought I’d die. I’ve never learned to swim—not from lack of trying-but I’ve always had this weird love affair with the ocean. Something about it just pulls me in.
During sophomore year, my friends and I went to Tiverton for a weekend getaway. We heard about this jet ski competition happening along the coast, and being the curious college kids we were, we couldn’t resist checking it out.
After the races ended, the sunset was just beginning to paint the sky in these incredible shades of orange and pink. I had my Canon DSLR hanging around my neck and spotted the perfect shot waiting to be captured from some rocks jutting out into the water. Without thinking twice, I climbed out to the farthest one.
“Just one more shot,” I kept muttering, completely oblivious to the tide rising around
me. The clicking of my camera drowned out everything else.
“Claire! The water!” my friend’s panicked voice finally broke through my concentration.
I looked down and my stomach dropped. Seawater was already swirling around the rock, nearly submerging it. My heart hammered against my ribs as panic set in. I tried to turn back, but my foot slipped on the slick surface.
One second I was standing, the next I was plunging into cold saltwater.
The ocean swallowed me whole. Saltwater burned my eyes, filled my nose, invaded my lungs when I gasped involuntarily. My clothes dragged me down, heavier with every desperate kick. Darkness closed in from the edges of my vision as I thrashed helplessly.
God, this was it. Twenty years old and drowning because I wanted a damn sunset photo.
Then suddenly, someone grabbed my arm. Through my terror-blurred vision, I made out a figure—one of the jet ski racers I’d watched earlier. JJ, they called her on the announcer’s speaker. She appeared like some avenging angel cutting through the
waves.
I latched onto her like a drowning rat-which, technically, I was. My arms wrapped around her neck, my legs around her waist. Pure survival instinct. I didn’t care if I drowned us both; I wasn’t letting go.
“You need to ease up,” a surprisingly gentle voice said near my ear, somehow audible over the crashing waves and my own sobbing. “I can’t help if you’re choking
me p>
Something about that calm, soft voice penetrated my panic. I didn’t completely let go, but I loosened my death grip enough that we both could breathe.
“That’s better,” she said. “Now, I’m going to get us to my jet ski. Just hold on normally p>
The jet ski bobbed nearby, but might as well have been miles away to my terrified mind. When we reached it, I couldn’t coordinate my trembling limbs enough to climb
up.
“I’ll stabilize it,” she instructed, her voice still remarkably steady. “Use my shoulders as a step and pull yourself up p>
I sobbed through the entire humiliating process, using this stranger’s body like a human ladder, until I finally flopped onto the seat. She swung up behind me with effortless grace, started the engine, and whisked us back to shore.
By the time we reached the beach, a small crowd had gathered. One of my friends had fainted from panic, while the other was frantically talking to emergency services on her phone. My legs gave out the moment they touched sand, and I collapsed in a soggy heap.
Someone else helped carry me further up the beach, and when I turned to thank my rescuer, she was already speeding away on her jet ski, just a small dot disappearing into the darkening horizon.
For years afterward, I tried to find her. I contacted the jet ski club, but got nowhere. One guy even pretended to be my rescuer, but knew he was lying. My real savior had a distinctive crescent shaped, birthmark on the back of her
neck-I’d seen it when I was clinging to her for dear life.
That night changed me in two ways. I developed a crippling fear of water, and I
never missed a jet ski competition in the hopes of finding her again.
Months ago, at Thomas’s house party, I caught a glimpse of Juliana’s neck when she reached for a wine glass. There it was that same. crescent mark My heart stopped Could it be? I made some discreet inquiries through friends who followed the racing circuit. Though Juliana kept her past tightly under
wraps, the timeline matched
perfectly.
To confirm my suspicions, I did something insane. At the pool party, I deliberately jumped in despite my paralyzing fear, just to see how she would react.
When Juliana didn’t hesitate—just dove straight in and pulled me to safety with that same calm efficiency—I knew without a doubt. The mysterious JJ who’d saved me all those years ago and Juliana were one and the same person.