It isn’t long before we’ve unlatched the karts and pulled them through the fencing.We’re rolling them as quietly as we can to the starting grid.Matt can’t stop laughing, and I’m frantically trying to shush him and wind up in a giggling fit myself.
“We’re a disgrace,” I chuckle, hauling my kart into pole position.
“Nothing changes, Bug,” he agrees, dropping the front of his kart into second position.“Don’t think I didn’t notice you took pole position there, Coleman.”
“You probably don’t remember, but I won the last race,” I shoot back.
He puts his hands on his hips and tips his head.“Actually, it was the late summer of twenty twelve or twenty thirteen.AndIwon that race.I remember because you threw a banana peel at me, which hit me in the face.”
I am stunned into silence.I didn’t think he would remember.The memory, his remembering, it clutches at my heart in a way I’m not ready for, and I look away, down to my kart.
“Cat got your tongue, Coleman?Your dirty Mario Kart tricks didn’t work, did they?”
I take a few steps toward him and put my fingers on the zipper of my racing suit, unzipping the front slowly.
“That isn’t going to work either,” he says, as his eyes drop to my fingers.“Well.Maybe it will.”
“Looks like it might,” I say, unable to stop laughing as I reach inside the suit and pull out a ripe banana.
“You are the worst,” he says, his eyes darting from the banana to my unzipped racing suit, which is showing off a hint of lace from my bra.I zip it back up and toss the banana into the back of my kart.
“You have to eat it first, you know.I’m pretty sure it has to be a skin, not a whole banana.”
“I’m too full of the seventy-thousand-course dinner my mum just forced me to eat.”
Matt taps his belly, laughing.“Same.”
I glance over at the karts.“Shall we?”
I watch as Matt climbs into his kart, his knees jutting awkwardly up and his arms ridiculously long for the wheel-to-seat space.He’s all pointy elbows and tight angles.
“You look like a pretzel made to look like Matt Warner,” I say, climbing more easily into my own kart before I jam the ignition and we’re off.
As we speed around the track, Matt hangs just behind me, as he always does.Looking back over my shoulder, I shoot him a mischievous grin as I move my kart in front to block any moves.
He’s right on my tail, the delight of racing me all over his face.He pretends to make a serious move to overtake, but then eases off the throttle, allowing me to maintain my lead.The little shit.I grin as he pushes me, moving round so we’re side by side.He sticks his tongue out and tries to push but I cruise ahead.
“Don’t just let me win,” I shout over my shoulder.“Fight, you bugger.”
“You’re too aggressive,” he shouts.
After a bit of toe-to-toe down the final straight, I cross the line just ahead of him, my smile stretching wide.He pulls up next to me, laughing, and I shake my head at him.
“I’ll take the win,” I say, breathless and exhilarated.“Even if it was given to me.”
“Best of three?”he says, and before I have a chance to respond, he’s off again around the track.The bastard.I hit the throttle, ready to chase.
After three rounds, with me winning two to one, we’ve both finally had enough.
“We better get off the grid,” he says, pointing to a flood-light that has been triggered by our movement at the far end of the pit.
We roll the karts back toward the gap in the fence, then load them into the trailer before I reach into the back seat of the truck and pull out a beer.
“Wanna share one?”I ask, holding it out toward him.
“Up on the mound,” he says, nodding toward the grassyhill that rises above the track.We wander together, the sparkly fun of our race still invigorating me, sweat on my forehead, cheeks inevitably pink from the thrill.I take a seat on the dry grass and Matt drops heavily down next to me.I twist the top off the bottle and hand it to Matt, who takes a thirsty glug and hands it back.
“Nice to be home?”he asks me.
