“I didn’t,” calls Valentina Dumond, Chronicle team principal. “I like him better like this.”
There’s scattered laughter before the next question, which brings everyone back to familiar territory by getting into the points gap between Delphine and Julian. Silver Sight tries to circle back to Julian getting Clarke out of her ship, but Val steps in with a curt “We’re here to answerracingquestions fromracingjournalists. If your question is not aboutracing, you will be asked to leave.”
Clarke is exhausted and stiff by the time they’re released. She didn’t get a chance to cool down properly after the accident, and sitting still for so long has made her muscles lock up. She makes it to the back hallway, then props herself against the wall to take a fortifying breath.
All she has to do is get to Elemental’s garage. She can collapse in her prep room until it sounds like the team is mostly packed up outside, then go to the hotel and just…stop functioning until tomorrow.
She peeks back into the main room. Naomi left twenty minutes ago, when it became clear that Clarke wasn’t going to get any more questions, and Yves almost never comes to press, but maybe Amira’s here? Oranyonefrom Elemental, who could help Clarke stagger to relative privacy without making any more of a fool of herself?
No luck. Lots of faces she knows, but no one from the team.
She turns back to the hall, steeling herself, and recoils when there’s suddenly a person standing half a step away. Their hands shoot out to steady her, one gripping above her right elbow and the other ghosting over her sling before landing on her hip.
“Saints, Julian, make asoundwhen you move,” Clarke gasps, heart thundering in her ears at the surprise and his sudden proximity.
Julian releases her the instant she’s stable but stays close, like he doesn’t trust her to keep her balance. “What happened out there?”
“I already answered that question from Silver Sight.”
“Silver Sight?”
“The reporter. With the eyeballs.” Clarke tries to wave at her own eyes, but accidentally uses her bad arm and ends up doubled over with pain.
“You’re hurt.”
“No kidding,” Clarke deadpans. It comes out on a hitched wheeze.
“No, I mean—you’re in pain.”
“I’m fine.” Clarke forces herself upright, suppressing a wince.
“Sure you are,” Julian says, and silence falls between them. It feels precarious, as silence between them so often does these days. They only spend time together when it’s mandated by their jobs, and every second of that time needs to be filled and scripted, otherwise they end up at each other’s throats.
A rudeSo did you need something, or…?is on the tip of Clarke’s tongue, but Juliandidpretty much save her life earlier. “Thank you. For what you did on the track, after I crashed. I already confirmed that Yves isn’t going to push for you to be fined for touching another team’s ship, so—”
“What’s going on with you?” he interrupts, low and intense. Everything about Julian is intense. He does things fully or not at all. It makes him a great racer, a loyal friend, and a pain in the ass.
She misses him so much that she feels physically ill, sometimes. Especially when she’s standing right in front of him, lookingacross the chasm between them, and has to take a step back from the edge so she doesn’t fall in.
She summons a bland smile. “Just some bad luck. Strategy decisions that didn’t pan out the way we’d hoped. I’m working on it.”
His brow creases. “I’m not a reporter. You don’t have to give me the company line.”
“You’re worse than a reporter. You’re the enemy.”
“Elemental’s not good enough for us to be enemies.”
He’s right, and they both know it. It still stings. And where Julian’s concerned, Clarke’s never been capable of not retaliating when provoked, so she gets right up into his face and snaps, “Then what are we? Because you’ve made itreallyclear that we’re not friends.”
Julian’s eyes darken to a brown so deep it’s like looking into the void. “I’vemade it clear? You’re putting this onme? If you would just—”
“If I would justwhat?” Clarke demands, threading her words with indignation to hide the underlying pain of having this dredged up again. “We’ve had this conversation eight thousand times, and nothing has changed, and nothing isgoingto change. Thank you for saving my life. Good night.”
She takes a step. Julian’s blocking her path to the exit, but he moves to the side and lets her leave. He always lets her leave. It’s what’s defined their entire relationship. Clarke always pulls back, and Julian always lets her, and somewhere along the way the line they wouldn’t cross turned into a chasm that can’t be bridged.
She’s familiar with the weight of his eyes on her back as she walks away. It doesn’t make it any easier to bear.
3
