Page 6

I’m standing outside the gym, the door cracked open enough that I can see Kian in the mirror. His shoulders are hunched as he waits at the bicep curl machine. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead that says he’s started without me, but the way he keeps glancing at the clock tells me he thinks I still might turn up.

I know this makes me sound like a whiny kid, but it’s not my fault he decided to be an asshole first. I can’t believe I ever looked up to this guy, when all he seems to do is look down his nose at me. What’s wrong with wanting to have a good time? To work hard but play equally as hard? Not my fault he’s boring as fuck and acts like a middle-aged woman. Who wants to do yoga and be in bed by nine when we are literally in our prime?

Still. I should go in. I almost want to, even if it’s just to ogle Kian in the little shorts he’s wearing.

Yet something stops me.

If I’d continued with the therapy I’d been forced to attend when I came out of the foster system at eighteen, I’d probably have been told it was because I don’t deal well with anxiety and handing over control to other people. It would make a lot of sense if you’d ever met my parents. Not that I need to contemplate my emotional trauma right now in the hotel hallway.

I’m frozen in place, lingering as Kian paces over to the wall, setting up a skipping rope and a bunch of weighted balls at his feet. He then whips a tennis ball out of his shorts pocket and bounces it quickly off the wall, getting in some reaction rate reps before his strength training.

I wish I didn’t admire his utter commitment to the sport. It would be easier to hate him that way. He does this every single day except race days. It’s everything to him. He’s clearly given motor sport his whole life, which also means it has the power to tear him apart.

I love the sport, too, and hope I have a long career in it, but I won’t give anything or anyone that power. I want to enjoy right now. And right now, I really don’t want to give Kian Walker the satisfaction of going in there to train with him.

Decision made; I leg it. Running away from something else I don’t want to do. Yet again.

Instead, I persuade Johannes to go for dinner with me in the hotel restaurant again. We snap a ton of selfies and I post them to my story. These are immediately picked up and shared by press and fan accounts until I swear the entire world is watching our every move. It’s exhilarating to feel like so many people care what I do.

We’re just paying the bill when I catch a glimpse of Kian going from the gym to the lift in the hotel lobby. For a second, he looks so dejected as his eyes glance between the empty plates and glasses on our table and how Johannes is laughing about something his teammate, Nils, did on the flight over here.

Then he catches me watching him and he instantly schools his face into the pissed-off look he wears just for me.

I’m an asshole and I know it.

He’s trying. Like, really trying, and I’m being a dick. It’s worse that I know this and yet I’m still struggling to just take the bloody olive branch he’s offering.

‘Hello? Earth to Harper.’ Johannes snaps his fingers in front of my face and I watch as Kian walks with a defeated air towards the lifts.

‘Sorry, sorry. I think I’m just tired. Hang on a second, I just need to go do something.’

I slide out of the booth and stride across the hotel lobby towards the lift Kian’s waiting for. The doors start to open as I’m just five seconds away, and my strides turn into a sprint so that I make it just in time to keep the doors open.

‘Are you kidding?’ he grumbles.

He smells like a gym locker right now, and I hate that it’s so appealing. I want to lean in to him, get up close and take a deep breath, inhale his woodsy, masculine scent. I remember how he looked in his vest and shorts in the gym and have to physically shake my head to get rid of the image.

A queue starts to form behind us and we both step out of the way to let people into the lift.

‘You’re such an asshole,’ he says through gritted teeth as the lobby empties around us and the lift departs. ‘Why did you stand me up?’

He doesn’t call another lift, so we’re clearly having this out here and now.

I sigh.

‘I mean, technically I didn’t. You sent me a time and a place. I never said I’d be there.’ It’s petty, because I replied to his message with a thumbs-up. I had every intention of going, and I did … sort of. I mean, I went there. I just didn’t go in.

‘Please, educate me on the meaning of the thumbs-up emoji!’

‘That was to let you know I’d seen the message, not to tell you I’d be there. I wasn’t feeling it, so I decided to get dinner instead.’

He finally peers over my shoulder in the direction I came in, quickly spotting Johannes at the table I abandoned.

‘I can see that. God forbid you miss an opportunity to update your socials and hang out with the competition. Clearly, getting shitfaced and posing for pictures is more important than the team you’re actually on. Did nothing Anders said earlier get through your thick head?’

‘Best friend.’ When Kian raises an eyebrow at me, tilting his head slightly, I clarify for him. ‘He’s my best friend. And we weren’t getting shitfaced. We were having dinner. Go and sniff my glass if you don’t believe me. Just sparkling lemon water all evening.’ I don’t mention that this was Johannes’s doing not mine and I’d have happily taken a vodka soda if he hadn’t overridden any alcohol consumption this evening.

‘He’s our competitor. One of the biggest, if the predictions are anything to go on. I don’t get it. Do you just not give a shit about your career? Is this all a bloody joke to you? Elijah’s sitting at home dreaming of being here and his spot is being wasted on you.’

I’m so sick of his constant judgement and criticism. He’s talking about my best friend in the whole world. The only person whose been by my side through thick and thin, there’s nothing that can replace Johannes. Not a team or this sport.

‘You’re also one of my biggest competitors,’ I tell him. ‘Yet you’ve been trying to get me to hang out with you in the gym or in the pool or in those boring media sessions. So which is it? Should we be socialising together or not?’

He turns to me and takes a step closer.

‘It’s not the same and you know it. We’re on the same fucking team! Or do you just not understand the concept of a team? Have you got any fucking brains at all? We’re supposed to make each other better for the sake of the Constructor’s Championship and Hendersohm as a team.’

I know he’s right, but he’s being such a wanker about it. I don’t think he knows any other way to be than patronising. Back in the lower categories, I always made the effort to be at least friendly with my teammate. Maybe too friendly, considering I used to stick my dick in Johannes when we were both driving for the same team.

So, I find myself back on the defensive. ‘Me and Johannes have been in each other’s lives since our early karting days. I refuse to give that up because we’re racing against each other. Would you stop socialising with Elijah if you’re on different teams next year?’

I’m met with silence before he sighs. Score one to me.

‘Fine, do whatever you like. I’ve tried. Don’t be surprised when Anders drops your ass back down because you don’t show any commitment.’

‘Maybe it’s your ass they’ll be dropping, old man, now they’ve got new blood on the team.’ Kian’s eyes darken momentarily and I can’t help but be amused. If looks could kill, I’d be buried under the Albert Park Circuit.

‘Don’t get too cocky, rookie. A couple of good performances are nothing when there’s still twenty to go. You might have pulled off the odd risky move, but it wasn’t exactly difficult to overtake you. And when everyone else sees that you’re a joke, too, you won’t be seeing much more of the podium.’

He’s so bloody sure he knows what I’m like, it could almost knock my confidence. But this is just words, and I’ve got a P3 under my belt already.

I’m not delusional enough to think I’m the best in the world – yet. But I earned this opportunity, even if it did come at the expense of Elijah’s broken leg. Maybe finishing on the podium in my first attempt has gone to my head, but it’s not like I could ever forget that I’m the number two driver around here with Kian throwing his every bit of wisdom and experience at me.

There was still a long way to go, he wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t about to get ahead of myself thinking I could take it home after coming third a couple of times.

Kian looks satisfied as he presses the call button and leans against the wall next to the lift, as if he’s shut me up. He hasn’t. He could never. I’m going to be here for as long as they’ll have me, battling Kian bloody Walker until I’ve proven myself.

Maybe Elijah will come back in three months’ time, leg all healed, and take my seat. Or maybe Hendersohm will realise that Kian’s been around enough and they do need new blood. It’s all to play for, as far as I’m concerned.

‘Well, enjoy your night. I’ll be in the gym at 7am. You’ll join me if you know what’s good for you, but I can almost guarantee you probably won’t.’ The lift pings behind him with perfect timing and he saunters in. He pushes the button and the doors close, giving him the last word.

Fuck. I stand there like an idiot as I watch the number go up and up and up, not sure that could have gone any worse. Johannes appears behind me.

‘I won’t lie, I really enjoyed watching Kian handing your ass to you. I like the guy even more now.’

‘Get lost,’ I grumble. ‘Can we go get dessert? I know we shouldn’t but I need something sweet right now.’ I saw a picture of the biggest slice of chocolate cake on the menu and there’s nothing I want more right now – except maybe to get drunk. Thank God for this hotel having a luxury restaurant right here in the lobby.

‘You wanna eat your feelings, Harp? You must really be gutted that your idol won’t take any shit from you.’

‘Don’t make me tell you to get lost again.’

‘Don’t tell me you’ve fallen out of love with him? Back in the day, you used to?—’

I scramble to cover his mouth with both of my hands until he surrenders, licking my palm so I let him go.

‘Used to, past tense.’ Ending the conversation, we go back into the restaurant. I flag down a waitress and order us a big piece of chocolate fudge cake to share. I’ll be paying for it in the morning. Not in the gym at 7am with Kian, though.

‘I hate you,’ Johannes says when the cake is quickly brought out to us alongside two forks. ‘Not as much as Kian hates you, but still.’

‘Is it too late to see if another team wants me? Reckon Nils would like to swap?’

‘I do love you, but us being on the same team again would be a nightmare.’

I’d probably kill to be on the same team with him again, like we were once upon a time. But he’s probably right. We’d get each other in way too much trouble; the team wouldn’t be able to handle us.

‘Yeah, I’m too good for you now. I’d make you look bad.’

‘Whatever you say, James, whatever you say. How about tomorrow you go lick ass with your loverrrr and make things right?’

Whilst I can’t deny that rimming Kian Walker sounds hot as hell, I don’t think I could get him to remove the stick up his ass long enough to get my tongue up there.

‘I’ll pass. Now hand me the fork. I need this.’

He complies, but the cake does nothing to fix the fact that I know tomorrow I might actually have to submit to Kian and meet him at the gym.