‘I’ve never done anything like it before. I hope I don’t look too nervous.’
‘You’ll do great,’ I say with an encouraging smile.
He smiles back, unconsciously reaching over to me– I assume to touch my hand– but at the last second, a flicker of remembrance flashes over his face. His face flushes– adorably– and he yanks his hand back.
‘We should probably head back,’ he says suddenly, standing up so fast his chair makes an ugly screech against the patio.
The run back to the villa is fast, as though we’re both trying to outrun what’s happened. The second I step through the door, I’m met by Nils, arms folded and already dressed to go for the day. ‘Where have you been?’ he demands.
‘For a run?’
‘It’s quarter to nine. We have to go in five minutes. I’ve sent you like a hundred texts, you asshole. What gives?’
It’s really something when I’m being lectured about being punctual by Nikolas Beck, king of making us late.
‘My phone’s on silent.’ I don’t tell him why it’s going to stay that way for the foreseeable.
‘Take a shower. You stink.’
Once I’m clean, I dress in an appropriate outfit for media, making sure I add my brand-partnership watch and join Nils at the front door.
‘Hey, Jo, are you okay, man?’ he asks, as I pull on some smart black trainers. ‘You’ve been quiet since we got to Belgium. It seemed like you were doing better but now…’
Little by little, Nils has become one of my closest friends. When we first became teammates more than three years ago and he was this bratty teenager trying to follow me around to all the cool clubs with Harper, I had no interest in being pals. Now, I can’t imagine life without him. We spend so much time together and he’s really grown into an awesome person. I know he’s asking because he genuinely cares.
‘I appreciate you asking,’ I say, ‘but…’ I don’t want to tell him too much, but I think it’s probably time to tell him something. ‘There was a guy–isa guy, I guess. I don’t know. It felt really good and I thought maybe it might go somewhere but, you know, things don’t always work out the way you hope.’
He contemplates that for a minute, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. I hope I haven’t said too much but he just shakes his head.
‘Honestly, Jo, you deserve a guy that’s going to treat you right. For a while recently, you’ve seemed happier than I’ve ever seen you, and I hate to see you become sad again. If he makes you happy, if there’s a chance it could work, isn’t that worth taking?’
When the hell did Nils get so wise? I feel like a proud big brother, because three years ago he’d have given me some cocky answer about getting under someone else being the best way to move on. I think about making pasta with Caleb, about the moment our lips met for the first time, how enthusiastically he kissed me back. I know I didn’t imagine that.
‘Plus, the sex must be sensational to put a smile like that on your face.’
Oh, there he is.
I ruffle his wild blond hair and shove him out the front door, because now we really are going to be late.
ChapterFourteen
Caleb
Ilove the thrill of a sprint weekend, but only having one practice session is not fun at all. Especially not on a track like Spa and in my first year as Johannes’s race engineer.
He was absolutely superb last night in sprint qualifying. In rounds one and two he was the best driver on track, but in the final round– the one that counts– Elijah pipped him to pole by one thousandth of a second. It was a stunning lap, and I’m sure Johannes and I will sit down and watch it at some point and pick apart what makes Elijah so good in these sprint races, but there’s no point dwelling on it now.
In the actual sprint race, things didn’t go quite so well. He finished third and I know he’s pissed. I wish I could have done more for him today.
He’s frustrated, not because things didn’t go well out there for him, but because they did go well and it still wasn’t enough. He, Harper and Elijah all finished within half a second of each other– but at this level, a fraction of a second is the difference between first and third. Elijah comes alive over shorter distances and Harper is, well, Harper.
‘Hey,’ I say, grabbing Johannes’s arm as he storms towards the garage. ‘You were brilliant out there. The time sheet tells everyone exactly how good you were.’
‘It wasn’t enough though, was it? I needed all eight of those points.’ He stops and sighs, leaning into my touch on his arm and I hate how good it feels. I hate that I want to pull him towards me and hold him close.
‘It’s still points, and that’s better than no points, Jo. Go and clear your head then put this behind you. Don’t let sulking over eight points cost you the twenty-five up for grabs in the main event tomorrow. The sprint is over. Focus on qualifying this afternoon.’
It’s perhaps a little more than I meant to say, and a bit tougher than I’ve been on him in the past. I decide to get him a special coffee and a piece of cake for after to make up for it.
