“Fuck you,” I say.“At least Ihadfriends.”
He tips his head now, his laughter subsiding.“Well, we both struggled a bit on that front.It was slim pickings in Juniors.Such rich wankers.Like that Jack Sheppard.”
He tosses his napkin to the ground as he says Jack’s name.For someone as rich as Matt is now, he acts weirdly jealous of the guy.
“You know whatwasfun?”I say.“Those times we snuck in to watch the racing at Silverstone.”
“Oh yeah.And remember when we snuck inoffseason?”he says, laughing, and my face breaks into a huge smile as the memory floods back in.
“Of course I do.You stole the Bambino karts,” I recall, laughing.“And we raced them for hours.You couldn’t fit your feet inside the car.”
“That’s the only reason you won,” he says, shaking his head as the laughter subsides.“Fucking hell, those days were a laugh.”
“The best,” I say, standing, reaching out a hand to pull him up.He glances at my fingers for a moment before taking my hand.
“Share an Uber?”I suggest.
“Guess we better,” he replies, crushing his second beer as I quickly order the car.“I enjoyed that, Chloe.Really.It’s so nice to be working with you.Even if everything else about this sucks.”
“Obviously,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“It’s true,” he replies, and I can feel his eyes on me as I pack away the food mess.“I’m glad to have you back in my life.I’m lucky, actually.Really lucky.”
I glance back up him, his skin shimmering in the golden glow of the last of the daylight, his eyes sincere, and I have to summon all my strength just to nod in reply.He was always so handsome, but these were the moments that sealed my fate all those years ago.These quiet, private moments, with a Matt only I knew.Sensitive.Thoughtful.Surprisingly funny.
“Just like old times,” I say, bittersweet nostalgia sweepingthrough me as I stand to face him.I can’t seem to look away from his gaze, which only intensifies as our eyes meet.
“We should do this again,” he says quickly.Seriously.
“I’d love that,” I reply, despite myself, and Matt’s face softens into a warm smile.Then his eyes narrow a little on me, like he has more to say.
But un unmistakable buzz comes from the phone in my hand.“Five minutes,” I say, looking at the screen.“We better go.”
Matt gathers all the food mess and tosses it into a black garbage bag by the track exit.We touch our passes to the gate, wander outside, and wait for our Uber in a heavy silence.The crickets are deafening, the sun setting in the distance, and it will be dark before we are back at the hotel.
Matt is quiet.He’s not standing too close, but I can feel his presence radiating like a warm fire.I’vealwaysbeen able to feel him.In the car back, we barely speak, staring out our respective windows, the gap between us as wide as I can make it.Is this companionable silence, or is there something else going on?
I can see, out of the corner of my eye, Matt turn toward me a few times as though he wants to say something.But then his body shifts, and he looks back out the window.When we’re just five minutes from the hotel he seems to spring to life.
“Let’s walk the last few blocks,” he says suddenly.
“Without security?”I scan the sidewalk; it’s a busy street.No way Matt won’t get recognized.
“It’s only a few blocks,” he insists.
“It’s not a good idea.You’ll get swamped.”
“Not in Texas.Come on, I need to walk off these ribs.”
It doesn’t feel like that’s why we’re stopping, but still, I follow his lead and climb out of the car.We move through the foot traffic, both with our eyes on the ground.I sneak glances at him while scanning the people around us.I get the feeling he’s trying to delay saying something.
And then, on this warm Austin night, the skies open above us and it starts to downpour.“Oh god!”I say, ducking for the awning of a nearby antique shop as the streets clear, with people clamoring into cars and under other dark and dry awnings down the street.We stand in silence for a moment, watching the rain pour, clawing our damp hair out of our faces.My shirt is soaked and clinging to my skin.
“Bit of a dumb idea to walk,” Matt admits.“My trainers are soaked.”
“Well, look,” I say, thumbing at the window.“We picked a good place to wait out the rain.”
He turns and we both lean in against the glass to get a better look at the F1 memorabilia display in the shopwindow.Vintage Rossini gloves, a brake disk signed by Mark Webber.A Ferrari helmet worn by Kimi.Danny Ricciardo’s Nomex shirt from his time at Red Bull.
