Beck
That stepbrother of yours is a real piece of shit, Rome. He nearly ran Tessa over with a golf cart.
Graham pops up from below the pit wall. “What?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Van lean forward from Noah’s pit area.
Instead of saying anything, I sip on my Diet Coke and shrug. I click my phone off, ready to silence it for the race, when I get another text.
Except, Beck’s phone doesn't go off.
Only mine does.
Rome
Where are you?
Just seeing his name on my phone, in our own private message thread, speeds up my pulse.
Me
You know where I am.
Rome
Come to my tent.
I move my attention across the paddock, and sure enough, the makeshift Do Not Disturb sign is taped to the front of Rome’s tent.
Me
There’s a Do Not Disturb sign on your tent. Does that no longer apply to me?
“I’ll be back,” I say to Quinn, handing her my drink.
On my way over, I notice that the paper sign is hanging in a different spot. When I get closer, the words become clearer. The Do Not Disturbis still in bold, but beneath it, there is a set of parentheses with slanted, messy handwriting inside.
Do Not Disturb
(Does not apply to Tess)
My lips twitch into a small smile.
“Since when do you call me Tess?” I ask, knowing he can hear me.
His hand cuts through the thin opening of the thick fabric, and he grabs onto the lanyard hanging from my neck. I stumble forward and stop when I hit his chest.
Rome’s eyes bounce back and forth between mine, his hands wrapped around my waist. “Since you gave me a taste.”
My mouth dries, and I try to speak through my tied tongue. “You’re breaking our rule.”
Rome tilts his head with his dark brows knitted together. “What rule?”
“The one where we don’t talk about what happened,” I say quietly.
I’m hyperaware of every move he makes. His firm jaw tightens and then loosens as soon as his eyes drop to my mouth.
Nervous and jittery, I step away from him. “Shouldn’t you be meditating or something? You have to be out there in–”
