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“Snowball fights. Baking. Reality TV marathons on Netflix.”

The door clicks but I don’t notice until there’s a familiar voice.

“That sounds wholesome.”

Jameson.

His eyes find mine and there’s that ripple of awareness, the tug of more every time I see him. I want to run to him and throw myself into his arms.

“Do you get at least one day of skiing in the Alps or whatever you rich folks do? Or is that ruled out in your contract?” Bree asks.

“It’s allowed as long as we’re in sponsor-approved gear,” Jameson says.

“Was that a joke?” Raj asks Megan.

“Yes, Raj, that was a joke,” Jameson answers. “Got a second?” he asks me.

“As long as you’re more entertaining than aerodynamics.” I shift off the simulator, taking my books and the cupcake with me.

He’s wearing jeans and a button-down, looking perfectly pressed despite too many hours of traveling. His face is lean planes and hard angles, the same ones that used to make me want to fight or run.

“How’s studying?”

The rest of the room’s pretending not to watch.

“Delicious.” I swipe a chunk of icing and lick it off my finger.

Jameson’s attention lingers on my mouth. “I, uh. Wanted to ask you about something.”

“Come on.” I set the cupcake, still in its wrapper, on a sim and tug him outside and down the hall.

A handful of students drifts through the building. Everyone has their own shit going on, but ours feels bigger. Jameson pulls me into a closet where we won’t be overheard.

“You’ve been holding back since the last race,” he says after tugging the door shut and flicking on an overhead light.

The space is barely big enough for the two of us. The walls are lined with cleaning supplies, and there’s a low desk that bumps the back of my legs.

I tip my face back to take him in. “Okay, Mr. Traveling-the-World.”

He frowns. “I know I haven’t been the most available. If I pushed you too hard with what I did or said in São Paulo—”

“You didn’t.” I take a breath and steel myself.

“So, what’s the problem?”

He steps closer and cups my cheek with one hand. He’s near enough I can smell him, and I want to bury my face in his shirt and forget everything outside this closet.

My throat tightens, the knot lodged in it reminding me that I can’t. “I overheard a conversation.”

His nostrils flare as I fill him in on Luca talking about ARI cheating, leaving out the part about his dad telling me not to say anything. It feels as if I’d be putting even more pressure on him.

When I’m finished, Jameson presses his fingers into his temples. “Let me get this right. You overheard my father and another employee admit that ARI tanked Dekker’s car on purpose. And you didn’t tell me.”

“There were other things on your mind. I know it’s a shock…” I trail off at the distinctly unshocked expression on his face. “Wait. You knew.”

He grimaces. “I suspected something,” he says carefully. “Before São Paulo. I didn’t want it confirmed. It’ll sink ARI if it gets out, shred the company’s reputation.”

Anger rises up. “Luca should have thought of that first. What about the team, all the engineers and mechanics who worked their asses off to build the best possible car?”