Page 42 of Nothing But Air

He turned to his team. “Marcus, you’re second. Xander, third. Eden, you anchor.”

“Standard formation.” Eden nodded approval. “Solid choice.”

“Was that a compliment?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Xander moved closer, adjusting his gear. “You two always like this?”

“Like what?” they said in unison.

Xander’s eyebrows rose. “Never mind.”

“On my go.” Noah positioned himself between the two routes, clearly still annoyed about the bet. “And for the record—this is still not a race.”

“Sure it isn’t,” Kyle muttered.

Teague eyed the path before him and braced his foot on the rock. He’d spotted a jug about ten feet up—bigger holds than the standard start, requiring a powerful first move but offering a significant lead if he could stick it. The kind of risk that paid off when it worked. He found a good grip with both hands, then waited for the signal.

“Go.”

Teague exploded upward.

His fingers brushed the edge. Dug in. The rock bit into his skin, but the pain was welcome—it meant the hold was solid. He swung his leg left, found a foothold, and pushed himself into a stable position.

“Show-off,” Eden called from below. But there was admiration in her voice.

“That’s Mr. Show-Off to you.”

“Less talking, more climbing.” But her voice sounded lighter than it had before.

Sierra’s voice carried across the gap. “Okay, color me impressed. Please tell me he’s single, Eden.”

Teague’s rhythm faltered for just a second.

“Focus on your own team, Sierra.” Eden’s voice carried that edge of humor. “And I’ll focus on mine.”

“Yeah, I see you focusing on yours. And that’s not an answer.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Interesting.” Sierra’s tone went singsong. “Very interesting.”

Teague kept climbing, but his mind snagged on that non-answer. He was very much single. Eden knew that. So why not simply say it?

Unless…

He forced himself to focus. Reach, test, commit. His muscles remembered this—the burn in his forearms, the way his core engaged to keep his weight balanced. Below, Eden fed rope through her belay device with practiced precision.

“Safe! Off belay!” His call echoed off the canyon walls as he reached the first anchor point.

A glance at Team Two showed Liam still working through the crux of their first pitch. Teague’s opening move had put them in the lead.

But not by much.

Marcus came up next—slower, more cautious. Then Xander, steady and methodical. By the time Eden reached the ledge, Team Two was regrouping on their own anchor point just fifty feet away.

“Nice moves.” Kyle’s voice carried across the gap, dripping condescension. “For a warm-up.”