“No,” Cam said, well aware that he wasn’t being entirely truthful. It was hard to believe that gay men wouldn’t want such a pretty thing under them.
“You’re a liar,” Scott said, chuckling. “You’re lucky I’m not one to take offense at gross stereotyping.” He shrugged. “You aren’t the first, nor will you be the last.”
Despite the guy’s lighthearted tone, there was something underneath it. It made Cam a little uncomfortable. Was he being a dick?
“I’m sorry,” Cam said stiffly. “I meant no offense.”
Scott shot him a look before his expression softened. He smiled. “It’s fine. I know this sport isn’t exactly the most open-minded. It’s rife with macho bullshit and stereotypes. I mean, I’ve seen the way you all treat Bastien Beaumont.”
Cam’s brows drew together. “What do you mean? We treat Bastien fine.” And Bastien was straight, as far as Cam knew.
Scott rolled his eyes. “Please,” he said with a scoff. “I’ve seenDrive to Survive, you know. You guys call himBelle. Just because he’s all posh and pretty and doesn’t dress like a dudebro like the rest of you.”
Cam grimaced. Scott did have a point. “To be fair, that nickname has been around forever and I’m not the one who came up with it.”
“It doesn’t matter who came up with it. My point is, this sport is full of homophobic, misogynistic rhetoric. You equatea well-dressed and well-groomed man with being feminine, or worse, ahomo.” Scott’s gaze locked with his. “Look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong, champ.”
Cam cleared his throat. “All right, I can’t,” he admitted.
Scott grinned. “See? It wasn’t that hard to admit, was it?”
Pulling a face, Cam was about to reply when David, his race engineer, called out his name.
“Sorry, I have to go,” Cam said, glancing at his watch and frowning. He hadn’t realized how long they’d been talking.
“Okay,” Scott said. “See you around, I guess? Good luck this weekend.”
He didn’t need luck.
“Thanks. Are you going to be in our hospitality suite?” He frowned as soon as the words left his mouth. Why did he care?
Scott shook his head. “I was actually invited into Ferrari’s hospitality by a friend, so I’ll be watching from there.”
“Ah,” Cam said, still frowning faintly. It was probably for the best that the guy wouldn’t be around. He was very annoying.
Scott flashed him another nauseatingly pretty Hollywood smile. “I’ll still be rooting for you, champ.” He winked. “You aren’t that bad, for a homophobic dickhead.”
Cam snorted. “The feeling is mutual. You aren’t that bad for a—for a nepo baby.”
Judging by Scott’s narrowed eyes, he’d guessed what Cam had been about to say and very much wasn’t impressed. “I take it back,” Scott said, shaking his head. “You’re a massive dickhead.”Scoffing, he turned and stalked off toward Ferrari’s hospitality, somehow managing not to get a speck of dirt on his trousers.
“Who was that?” Archie’s voice came from behind.
Wrenching his gaze away from Scott’s retreating form, Cam glanced at his teammate.
“He’s a VIP I had to give a hot lap,” Cam said.
“Probably some fancy model, huh? Looks like one.”
“No,” Cam said curtly. “Just a rich American.”
“Huh,” Archie said before shrugging it off and looking at the sky with a frown. “You think it’ll rain tomorrow?”
Cam didn’t even glance at the sky. “Yes,” he said, suddenly wondering if Scott would still be sauntering around in his fancy pants if it rained.
His lips twisted. Probably. The guy was the definition of an empty-headed socialite: all glamour and beauty, with no substance. The kind of rich pretty boy who’d never had to work a day in his life. The kind who floated through the world on charm, family money, and a face that opened every door. He probably wore those pants on purpose, to draw gay men’s gazes to his—
“Cam, you’re late for the briefing,” his team principal called from behind him.
