I straighten up and crash directly into someone. I grab his arm and shoulder to stop him crashing into the gravel, exclaiming ‘Shit! Sorry!’
Once he’s stable, I let go of him, and when he turns around those green eyes are instantly on me.
‘Caleb! Fuck! Sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going.’
‘All good, man! You okay?’ he asks as he catches his breath.
‘Yeah. Just got a run in and I was about to get a coffee.’ I point stupidly to the coffee shop. What’s wrong with me?
But his face lights up and I’m drawn immediately back to those eyes. Have they always been that green? Are eyes supposed to change colour with excitement? Because I swear there’s a shimmer of tropical sea when he gestures to the door, as though to suggest we head in together.
I follow him in, still slightly dazed by the collision outside. I don’t remember the last time I got coffee with someone or did anything with anyone who wasn’t Nils, Elijah or Harper. I barely know Caleb– not the way I knew Gary– and now is as good a time as any to start.
‘I have to warn you, I’m a bit particular about my coffee. I like things a certain way, but also, I’m a sucker for getting something sweet and stupid at the same time. Don’t judge me.’
He holds his hands up. ‘Judgement-free zone,’ he replies as we step up to the counter.
‘Do you have a menu in English?’ I ask the barista, because it’s vast and I can’t take it all in. ‘And do you roast your beans instore?’
‘Yes. Every day,’ she says. I’m glad she has good English as I don’t have word of Hungarian.
‘Which would you recommend? I prefer a darker, richer roast,’ I say, and she reels off a couple of suggestions. ‘And what milk alternatives do you have?’
‘Oat, soy, almond, coconut.’
I order what I want and then, with a quick glance at Caleb, I say, ‘With a shot of salted caramel, too.’ My eyes wander over the cake stand, I could easily crush several of the dark-chocolate brownies they have, but I can’t cheat on my dietician’s pre-race meal plan in front of my race engineer, so I quickly avert my eyes. ‘And whatever my friend wants.’
‘You don’t have to do that,’ Caleb tries to protest.
‘I almost knocked you over. It’s the least I can do,’ I reply, waving him off.
‘Okay, thanks.’ He orders a tea to go and a pain au chocolat, and I’m instantly envious when he takes a bite of the pastry.
‘Which way are you going?’ I ask, when we step out onto the street with our beverages.
‘That way.’ He gestures right. ‘I have a meeting to get to, so I’m going to walk to that. You heading back to the villa?’
I nod. I’m disappointed we aren’t going to walk back together. I mean, he’s a good distraction from my negative thoughts. That’s all I mean.
‘Well, maybe I’ll see you around?’ I say.
‘You’ll see me at work later.’ He laughs. ‘Sorry, I need to get a move on. Don’t wanna be late or Nathan will have my head.’
I consider asking if he wants to get lunch or go for coffee later– just so we can plan my comeback– but it’s too late. He’s already walking away before I can even say a proper goodbye.
ChapterSix
Caleb
Johannes arrives to the first free practice of the Hungarian weekend looking so vacant I’m worried he’s not actually there. It’s like his body arrived at the track, but his soul’s still back wherever he left it.
He smiles– tightly– at the mechanics who stop him to chat, but he’s gunning for his little room in the garage, I can see it. A place just for him where no one will disturb him until it’s completely necessary. I can’t hear him, but I can tell by his hand gestures alone that he’s making his excuses to end the conversation, and ten seconds later he’s closing the door to hisroom behind him.
I can’t say it gives me any kind of hope for the weekend. I know he’s been sick and if he fucks it this weekend, the team will use that as an excuse, but he was crying his heart out just three days ago. That wasn’t because he was ill. That was a personal kind of pain. I might not know what’s going on with him, but even I could see that. I found myself in the same position ten years ago, except it was on my mom’s tatty couch that I curled up crying snotty tears, not the comfy seat of a private jet.
I’ve scoured the internet since to see if it was maybe a break-up, but he’s never been reported to have been in aserious relationship. A whole bunch of hook-ups and a casual fuck-buddy relationship with his best friend many years ago, but nothing more. Maybe it’s a relationship he never disclosed? A secret relationship?Secretis probably the wrong word; he’s entitled to aprivatelife after all. But it’s my job to do whatever it takes to get him back on top of the podium.
And I have a feeling that this weekend, it may take a lot.
