Page 32 of Green Flag (StormSprint #2)

Everly

Sharing a room with Luca Mendes had not been on my bingo card.

I mean, for a night, maybe.

Holed up, sweaty, panting while he tore my pussy apart for a weekend, sure.

But not for the whole trip and most definitely not against my will.

Luckily, he brought few clothes, unlike me, who had three outfits prepared per day. So, I got most of the wardrobe space. As he was my not-boyfriend , I went about my day as usual, not thinking of his schedule. Much.

When I wanted to leave the boat party with the grid girls a little earlier than the others, it might have been because a certain racer was in my hotel room, texting me, and making me think maybe, just maybe, he was waiting up for me.

I may have also had a few more drinks than usual, hoping I would pass out as soon as I got into our shared hotel room and didn’t embarrass myself by demanding he fucked me.

Which wasn’t just possible, but probable.

If I ever got to the hotel at all.

Though the signal was enough for texts, my internet was awful and I couldn’t order a taxi through the apps.

Maybe the signal had dipped again and that was why he hadn’t replied to my text from ten minutes ago.

I stared at the text, forcing my head to stay still and closing one eye to read it properly. Maybe I was a little drunker than I’d thought.

EVERLY: I’m trying to leave now. Just struggling to get an Uber.

Drunk, my first instinct was always to text him. Shame crept in at who else I’d texted in my moment of weakness the other week.

Getting information from Pedro was one thing. But flirting to do it? That no longer felt like an option.

Still no Uber. I was going to have to get off the boat by myself to get signal.

Arabella wanted to stay, getting over her rendezvous with Henri by flirting with every man and woman she could find. I’d enjoyed playing wing-woman.

When men tried to flirt with me as I warmed them up to the idea of my beautiful, rebounding friend, I couldn’t think of anything worse than flirting back.

Because I didn’t want them.

I said my goodbyes after demanding that Arabella share her location with me, and as I walked off the deck, Hollie chased after me to ask if we could share the taxi.

She was so attractive; she’d put extensions in for the night, curled slightly at the ends. I knew she was lovely from what everyone said about her, but we’d hardly had a chance to talk. With twelve teams and two grid girls per team, there were so many women to befriend.

I pressed my screen quickly to refresh for an Uber.

Was I wanting to get out of this so badly because I’d heard the rumours about her and Luca hooking up? Yes.

I wasn’t too proud to admit I had a jealous streak. That peaked around Racer 68.

I didn’t want her to talk about him. I didn’t want to hear his name from her lips as she’d moaned it, cried it, screamed it as I wanted to.

Fuck.

When it came to men, the loveliest of women could lose their minds. My mother, for example.

Still, she somehow had a soft spot for my dad, whom she had every right to hate.

“I’m struggling to get an Uber,” I told her. “You might have better luck than me.”

She shook her head, swinging her heels over her shoulder as she joined me on the path. Wow, she was nearly as short as me.

“I’ll have no hope, then,” she laughed. “Luca threw up in my car in Australia and completely ruined my rating. So, if you’re struggling, I won’t get a hint of a yes.”

Well, if he was throwing up, I hoped that meant they hadn’t got jiggy with it.

“And then Ces was the one vomiting the week after in Japan,” she said, shaking her head again. “Boys, am I right?”

Did she say that to smooth the blow of my boyfriend being in a taxi with her?

My not -boyfriend.

“You’re right,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Just can’t control their alcohol.”

Was I…slurring?

“It’s really nice to have girls’ nights like this,” she said, tapping on her phone. “Without them. Then we get girl talk and to discuss something other than tyre pressure.”

It was a hot topic this season.

“Well, with the new rules—”

She laughed harder. “To discuss something other than work, Everly. Not tyre pressure. Give yourself a mental break.”

Fair enough.

But my world had narrowed to very few things other than Luca and my job. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to out my dad anymore, despite how furious I was that he’d thrown me into a room with my not-boyfriend.

More than anything, though, I wanted Luca to be happy. And if that meant leaving me at StormSprint… then I guessed I had to be okay with that.

Even if the thought tightened my breath.

A loud, familiar beat filled the road along the canal and I froze as Hollie started to talk about the cocktail she’d had and just how much she hated sweet drinks when the white, low sports car hurled around the corner.

A Porsche.

Booming my song.

The car pulled up right beside us, and as the window rolled down, Luca’s beautiful, grinning face looked me up and down. “Can I catcall you?”

“What?” I cackled, alcohol almost toppling me and my laughter over.

He watched me with humour in his eyes and a half-restrained smile before repeating his question.

“Yes, you can.”

A high-pitched whistle came from his pursed lips as he pointedly looked me up and down. “Damn, Everly Bacque got back . You’re looking good enough to bring home, eat and take down the aisle. Need a lift anywhere? To my hotel room, maybe?”

Why did I feel like I was giddy? The alcohol, definitely.

“As if I have a choice,” I laughed. “Nice theatrical appearance. I like the backing track.”

“It’s one of my favourites,” he said. “I can sing it to you with my dulcet tones on the way back?”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” I said.

“Your outfit looks even more edible out in the dark,” he said and breathed out, eyes hovering on the short hem. “Do you know what would have made the outfit even better?”

“I can’t wait for you to tell me,” I said, gesturing to my legs.

“Tights,” we said together and his grin nearly took me out, falling back into the canal where I’d happily drown by how this man’s adorable nature and panty-dropping good looks befuddled my brain.

“I was thinking with your western boots,” he added and then kissed the tips of his fingers.

Hollie cleared her throat.

“Hey, Hol,” Luca said and nodded at her. “Want a lift back to the hotel?”

She nodded. “If I’m not intruding.”

“Of course not,” he said and gestured for her to get in.

In my short dress, I moved faster than was appropriate, heading straight for the passenger seat in case she went to nab it.

She didn’t because she was a woman with etiquette, unlike me when it came to Luca.

Etiquette? I didn’t know her. She wasn’t in my hemisphere.

“Bar tequila?” I asked him as he waited for me to put my seatbelt on. “I’ve had a few drinks, but one more wouldn’t hurt.”

“I could tell by how your writing became more like hieroglyphics with all the emojis. The aubergine must be your most-used by now.”

My mouth dropped open and I half-heartedly slapped his arm. “Ex-fucking-scooze me? Luca, I did not—”

His teasing grin took my breath away.

Alcohol always made me a bit hornier, but he could burp the alphabet right now and I would still be turned on.

I spun around in my seat to face a tight-lipped Hollie. “Hollie, I did not—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luca laughed and then started singing along to another of my songs.

It should have made the marrow of my bones cringe until they weakened and splintered, but this man blew me away. He was the most awful singer, but he knew every single word.

Of the song that had been on my first EP that came out five years ago. An EP that was known to very, very few.

My heart swelled and, before I knew it, I had to look out the window to blink the tears away.

I adored this man.

I was scared of how much.

Even with his ex-hookup in the car, I’d half expected him to try and act cool and sexy and go to town with the falseness of our relationship, but he was unapologetically himself.

And this was just us as we always were.

“You’ve got to turn it off,” I laughed when his voice nearly broke on the bridge.

He turned it up and cupped his ear. “Sorry? Can’t hear you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Turn me off.”

His head shook and his eyes widened, appalled. “Everyone who steps into this car is an Everly Bacque fan, including you,” he half-scolded, shouting over the music. “Best start loving yourself and singing along.”

My throat couldn’t swallow as I sat staring at the dashboard. Best start loving yourself . My swollen heart was thundering and my eyes were pinching again.

I was too drunk.

I didn’t even realise I’d drunk so much.

Luca lowered the music as he pulled up outside the hotel and offered for Hollie to get out while we parked. She thanked him for the lift and ran barefoot up the steps to the hotel.

“This is a very old song,” I told him. “The last three you’ve played are all really old.” And across different EPs.

He shrugged as we pulled away again and into the parking garage. “They’re some of my favourites. Proper belters, as Saliha calls them.”

“You know every word.”

“Can’t belt them if I don’t.”

I wanted him to be mine. I wanted Luca Mendes. I wanted to hold him and cry into his shoulder, I wanted to laugh with him. I wanted to feel forever free, like I did whenever I was at his side.

With him, I felt so overwhelmingly seen. And almost… loved.

Like there really was good in me.

Listening to my song about my own insecurities while I had the realisation felt completely and utterly surreal—like an out-of-body experience as my body tingled.

One day, I might be lovable.

I wished this wasn’t all fake.

As he parked, I tried to pull myself together, realising I was just drunk and needed to get over myself.

Luca rounded the car and opened the door in no more than four strides and offered me his hand to help me out of the car. He sighed as he looked down at my shoes. “They cannot be comfortable. Want me to carry you?”