“You think of everything.”
“I try.”She scratches her head under her messy bun.“Oh!I almost forgot!”She digs into her pocket and pulls out a few keys on a Triumph-branded keyring.
Eyeing the keyring with a quirked eyebrow, I jest.“I can’t be seen walking around withthatkeyring.”
She opens her hand for the keyring to rest on her palm, then looks over to me with a sly look on her face.“Who do you think is going to be looking so intently at this keyring this weekend?Have any stalkers I haven’t heard of yet?”She teases.
Rolling my eyes, I open my hand out for the key.“Ducati team owner with a Triumph keyring.Scandalous.”
She victoriously places the key firmly in my palm.The warmth of her fingers grazing, her long nails dragging gently across my calloused skin.
“Thank you.”I close my hand, feeling the metal bite of the jagged edge of the keys.
“Anytime, Rookie.”She smiles and pats my shoulder.“I’ll be downstairs for a bit before bed.Feel free to relax.No pressure to come down.”
She leaves.The scent of vanilla lingers in the room.
Running my hand down my face, I decide on a shower.
3
Rayna
Hearingthesoundofthe shower going upstairs feels uplifting.Noise of someone else in the house.I can’t imagine Koby feeling up to joining me for the evening.He looked wrecked after he had some food in him.Like he could finally relax.
My mind wanders as the movie I’m watching plays.I’m unsure what happened or how Koby and I drifted apart over the years.Busy lives?Our families and teams to look after?
We’ve been hanging out here and there over the last few years, but it feels like a very slow process of getting back to how we used to be.Inseparable.Fuck, we practically lived together after his accident, then arrived at uni together.We started Infraction32 together.We used to go everywhere together.
The abrupt end of the movie draws me back from spacing out.I check the time on my watch and it’s close to ten p.m.Turning everything off downstairs, I quietly make my way upstairs.
Hitting the top step, I hear the faint sound of Koby snoring through his door.I exhale with content.
Standing in front of my bathroom mirror in a pair of underpants and a tank top, waiting while my estrogen gel dries, I take in my body.
Running my hand down my stomach, I sigh.I’m definitely not in my twenties anymore.The remnants of my stretch marks, fragmented and marred across my skin.I do my best to fit time to work out at the hotel gyms, keep my daily step count up and have been spending the last year doing Pilates in my hotel room late at night.Looking away from my mirror, that was the longest time I’ve stared at my reflection for a while.The gel is dry enough, so I can put on long, light pants and a loose long-sleeve top.Yes, it’s summer, but I don’t love my body being out there.I’ll blast the air-con in my room so I can cover myself up.Blame perimenopause and pretend hot flashes.
Climbing into bed, the soft light from the lamp on my bedside table illuminating the cozy space.Do I have enough time for a few pages on my ereader?My eternal struggle.Sleep or read?I know I’ll get stuck into my new book and be up until 3:00 am, so I opt for a scroll on my phone.
My feed is full of colleagues from the paddock.Holiday-mode is definitely on.My fingers pause longer at certain accounts.Young, beautiful woman.Hair flowing and perfect.Skin toned and taut.Travelling, carefree in the prime of their lives.
Shutting off the phone, the screen goes black.My reflection stares back at me.Face puffy, bags under my eyes, hair a mess.Okay, okay.The low light from the lamp isn’t helping at this angle, but I can wallow.Putting it on charge on my bedside and turning the light off, I enjoy the darkness.Things are more forgiving in the dark.Hidden away.
Closing my eyes, I pull up my blanket and push my head back into my pillow, trying to quell the thoughts swirling around in my head.I need to not spiral and get some sleep.I think as I lay there and, indeed, spiral.
The sound of pans clanking rouses me from my sleep.For a moment, I forget that I opened my home to Koby, until I hear his loud whisper voice floating up the stairs, “Fucking noisy pans!Shhh.”
Hitting the bathroom, putting a bra and light robe on, I descend the stairs.
“Good morning,” I greet Koby.
“Morning.Sorry.”He offers a meek smile.
Eyeing the table, Koby has been busy.Fruit cut and laid out, coffee mugs out waiting next to the coffee machine, and the pan on the stove has scrambled eggs finishing off.
“I haven’t had your legendary scrambled chilli eggs in years!”
Koby’s mum is an amazing cook, so she imparted a lot of her cooking skills to Koby growing up and it helped him out being on the road racing a lot.No wonder his parents buggered off to the south of France to retire.Within a few short trips to some of the best food regions in the world.
