Page 13 of Green Flag (StormSprint #2)
The day before qualifying, Arabella had taken me on the same route as her tour the other day. This time, I led. She slowed me down when I talked too fast. She made me explain what some of the words meant — like fairing and tank slapper.
I was getting there. I could tell my fake smile was strengthening because Bella was saying “Warmth!” less and less.
Sometimes it was real. When I was enthusiastic about the sport, or not telling people what was completely obvious, but…
I needed to stop judging. I’d grown up on the track, whereas these people… had definitely not. Sometimes it was surprising they knew there were only two wheels, unlike the Ciclati logo with its three wheels and jaguar.
But it had been my best day in two weeks. Not the best night, though. That was Luca’s.
The night before qualifying, I spent hours in bed, not out with the girls, editing the footage Bella and I had recorded throughout the week for the song…before sending it to Luca for his approval.
We’d video messaged back and forth a few times, and my finger had hovered over the video call button, but when I gave up on that idea, I replayed his voice over and over and hovered my finger over my clit instead.
It had been one night of lust-filled… masturbation. That was all.
I couldn’t use him for revenge.
But watching him in his leathers, talking to Nix and Abbé, I wanted to use him. His tongue, fingers, cock. He’d said even his bike was up for grabs.
Grinning at the drunken memory, I pulled out my phone from my locker in the pit box.
Today was a good day. I toured by myself and made an actual connection with the group of guys I showed around.
We laughed, and by the end, we even had an inside joke about the gloves.
If they were the ‘secret shoppers’ Livie mentioned, I was sure I’d get five stars. Or maybe that was my own arrogance.
Arabella burst into the pit box with short, determined steps, her heels calling the attention of the entire box as she called, her hand in the air, holding her phone. “Everly Bacque, you are a sensation!”
I turned my phone on as she shoved hers at me. She had the pit box’s attention for precisely three seconds before they tuned her out.
“Nearly a million views!” she cried, her high pitches vibrating through the pit box.
Livie glanced up at the sound of anything media-related. The second she’d assessed us, she picked up her iPad — that she had attached to her like a bag with a long strap — and went tap tap tapping.
“Really?” I asked, impatient for my phone to load. Instead, I grabbed hers to scroll through the comments of the reel I’d posted on Instagram.
Not nearly a million—but hundreds of thousands. My fastest viral post ever.
“Wow,” I muttered, looking it over before clicking on the ‘liked’ list and searching for a certain name.
@PedroVelazco had liked the post.
Maybe he’d finally read my messages and reply. I couldn’t enact my revenge without his help; it was partly his anyway.
“StormSprint have reposted it!” Bella added, then lowered her voice, wiggled her eyebrows and spoke out of the corner of her mouth, “How could they not employ you now?”
I scrolled through the comments.
@ZsófiaBacque: That’s my damn sister!! Oh my gooooood!!
@StormSprint: Collab sometime, yeah?
As my phone loaded, I went straight to Instagram as the notifications rolled in. Messages. Requests.
@PVThrowaway: Cute song.
@PVThrowaway: You look cute too.
I could feel my feet on the floor, but it didn’t feel like I was connected to them. My chest tightened as everything around me, including Bella excitedly prattling on, was outside my hemisphere.
Everything narrowed to the screen.
Of course he’d commented and messaged with a fake account but liked it as himself. Wanker.
I read the words over and over again. Pedro called me cute. Cute?
When he’d gone, I was twenty, and yeah I was cute. But I wasn’t the twelve-year-old he’d first met. I wasn’t the fifteen-year-old he’d called mature. It had been four years since I’d last seen him. The first thing he could say to me was that I was cute ?
All the happiness from the day was suppressed by a horrible knotting low in my stomach as I struggled to swallow. What had I expected? What did I want?
Because there was the slightest spark of hope in my chest that I wanted to extinguish. And I didn’t know what that meant anymore.
I wasn’t in love with him. Somehow, despite all the time that had passed, I had love for him. He was my first and only.
But he was also the reason love and sex were twisted in my mind. I could rationalise that far, at least.
And he didn’t deserve my damn time or thoughts or love .
“Is that…” Bella’s eyes widened at my screen and she lowered her voice. “Is that Pedro Velazco?”
I locked my phone immediately and begged her with my eyes to stay silent.
Her head leaned back and she nodded slowly, lost in thought. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”
What explanation was there to give? He was a mostly fond memory, which was where he should stay.
If only he didn’t hold some of the key information I needed.
I’d have to befriend him for a while. But knowing him and his likes, it wouldn’t be as straightforward as a hook-up. He liked what he couldn’t — and shouldn’t — have because I’d been underage when we first got together.
And it wouldn’t be smooth sailing to persuade him I was on his side.
“What’s going on here?” Luca asked over my shoulder, bringing me back to the present. He was chipper, as always.
Bella spoke so fast that Luca raised a hand and said, “Woah, slow down.”
“Ev wrote a song about StormSprint—”
“I was careful not to name the championship,” I added a little louder than usual, noticing that Livie’s eyes were intent on her iPad, a headphone in her ear. She made no sign that she heard me.
“Oh, that little old thing?” he teased, eyes crinkling as he leaned over me, his arm snaking over my shoulder as he peered at the screen. “Yeah, I’ve had a few DMs about it.”
I turned to face him, but he was still leaning. My mouth was inches from his face, like when he’d kissed my cheek as he’d made me finger myself.
“Why have you…?” I started, very aware my breath was on his chin.
“I shared it.”
“You did?”
“Got to support my grid girl,” he said with a boyish grin. “Especially when she’s so good at supporting me.”
I searched for his profile and felt a crackle of shame when the blue button said, ‘Follow Back.’ I hadn’t noticed him follow me. I would have followed him back. I pressed the button so violently that my finger almost knocked my phone out of my hand.
“Or maybe she doesn’t support me if she didn’t even follow me,” he drawled with a shake of his head. “I’m hurt.”
“I didn’t—”
But he was already walking away. My heart thudded until he looked back and gave me a dazzling smile.
To make up for it, I liked his last ten photos.
And when I glanced up, Bella’s brows were raised, waiting for me to speak.
“I, er…”
“You er what?” She was always fully loaded with attitude, but this was the confirmation I needed. She was my friend. This was a friend telling another friend off.
My heart warmed even as my brain panicked for what in the er I was.
“You used to date, didn’t you? Pedro?”
I’d expected most people to know, but staff were always changing in StormSprint — especially the grid girls — and it seemed like the topic of Pedro had been expressly forbidden.
I nodded, still trying to find the words.
Her nose crinkled as if our past relationship smelled terrible.
“He’s not the bad guy—”
She snorted. “Right. He’s the reason the Ciclati planes still get random searches from the FBI, CIA…” She shook her head. “You just confirmed he was the bad guy by saying you two were dating.”
The planes were still being searched? They couldn’t do that randomly; there had to be evidence of more drug trafficking, which meant…
Fucking bingo.
My frown was deep. “You—”
“Whereas, you two are cute,” Bella said, eyes swinging from Luca to me with pursed, contemplative lips. “Use him to let off some steam. But don’t expect anything more than that.”
“Why not?” Kind of a bit late for that advice.
“He’s only into casual hookups and… he’d only be doing it to spite Ciclati and wind up your dad.”