SEVEN
YES! I PUNCH THE air as I sit cross-legged on my bed and stare at my laptop screen. I was busy typing up some notes on Gio – not because I intend to use them, more as background research – when an email from Dr Meyer popped up on my screen, approving my new essay idea. I’m so relieved to be back in her good books again, I can’t stop smiling.
‘You’ll never guess what’s happened!’ Ava bursts into my room suddenly, dressed in a gorgeous navy bias-cut skirt and pale yellow blouse. She always looks so effortlessly cool and professional, like she was born to run an international company. ‘Letitia Haddon messaged me. Her, not her people. She actually messaged me to volunteer for my podcast! And she invited me back to her house! I’m going to send Khloe a selfie from the pool.’
‘That’s amazing!’
‘Although I think she might have an ulterior motive.’ Ava perches on the side of my bed. ‘She asked me a couple of questions about you as well. Nothing too personal, but I wonder if this is the team’s way of checking you out?’ She smiles. ‘So I’ll be sure to say lots of wonderful things, which will also be the truth.’
‘Thanks.’ I look away, feeling a pang of guilt at the word truth .
‘So? Tell me everything. What happened with Gio last night? I wanted to wait up and interrogate you, but I needed my beauty sleep. That pizza looked delicious.’
‘It was.’ I lick my lips at the memory. Gio’s homemade Hawaiian pizza was the best I’ve ever tasted, a perfect combination of every food group. Arrogant he may be, but I can forgive a lot for that.
‘Hang on.’ I snap out of my cheese haze abruptly. ‘How do you know about the pizza?’
‘I follow Gio on Insta. Here.’ She unlocks her phone. ‘You look adorable, by the way.’
I spring forward, almost knocking the phone out of her hand. I’d completely forgotten the picture Gio shared last night. It has – I have to squeeze my eyes shut for a few moments in case I’m imagining things – four hundred thousand likes. What the hell?
‘You’re trending under #GiosMysteryGirl.’ Ava tosses her hair. ‘Although it’s not much of a mystery, thanks to my podcast. I gained another five thousand new subscribers overnight.’
I lean back against my headboard in a daze. I don’t know what I expected the reaction to my photo would be, but nothing like this. My posts get twenty likes, if I’m lucky. This is incredible. Mind-blowing. Kind of overwhelming, too. Four hundred thousand people have looked at my photo! Something about that makes me want to crawl under my duvet and hide.
‘You’re basically a Kardashian.’ Ava tucks her phone back into a hidden pocket. ‘Now, I’d better go or I’ll be late.’
‘Right.’ I’m still so stunned I only remember my other news as she reaches the door. ‘By the way, Gio offered us tickets to Silverstone.’
‘What?’ She whips round so fast she’s practically a blur.
‘And he says we can watch the race in the garage too, if we want.’
‘No. Way! You’re my best friend in the whole entire universe!’ She comes running back to throw her arms round me.
‘I know,’ I splutter, laughing. ‘In the meantime, you have to teach me everything you know about Formula 1.’
‘No problem.’ She pulls away again. ‘Now, I really have to go. I can’t be late in my first week.’
‘Have fun with the gamers!’ I call out, then sink back against my pillows, trying to make sense of those four hundred thousand likes. Suddenly my arrangement with Gio seems a bigger deal than I anticipated. I’m faintly alarmed at what I’ve started, but it’s too late to back out now.
Isn’t it?
I suck the inside of my cheek, wondering if I should call Gio and tell him I’ve changed my mind – I mean, legally I should be entitled to a fourteen-day cooling off period … Then I look at my laptop again. My email from Dr Meyer is still there on the screen. If I’ve messed up my exams, then a knock-out case study is the best way – possibly the only way – to convince her that I’m still serious about my degree. I don’t want to screw that up. In other words, I have to get to know my subject. I have to learn about Formula 1 … My future career might depend on it.
I hit print and clamber out of bed. I need a physical reminder of why I’ve agreed to this crazy fake relationship idea. I’ll do whatever it takes to save my degree because this is already my back-up plan. If I fail at this, I’ll have failed at everything.
I’ve just pinned the printout to the board above my desk for motivation when my phone starts ringing.
‘Hello?’
‘WTF, Maisie?’ My stepsister’s face fills the screen.
‘Good morning to you too.’ I slip back into bed. ‘Should you be saying that at eleven years old?’
‘I can when you’re not coming home this summer and you don’t even text to tell me. I had to hear it from Mum.’
‘Sorry, Daisy. I’ve been really busy.’
‘With what? Your exams were over two weeks ago.’
‘What are you, the university police?’
‘I was really looking forward to seeing you.’
I feel a stab of guilt. I love Daisy, I really do. She’s funny and sweet and a little eccentric with her Wednesday -inspired goth tendencies, for which I have nothing but the deepest respect. It’s not her fault that I can’t bring myself to go home. It’s not anybody’s. It’s just how it is.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I’d like to spend some time with you too, but I need to work.’
‘You could work here.’
I tense because I know that she’s referring to my dad’s bike shop, the one he and Mum set up on the outskirts of Windermere when I was a toddler. It’s expanded a lot since then – my stepmum, Briony, added an artisan cafe last year – but even the thought of being around mountain bikes these days brings me out in a cold sweat. I could handle the panic before, just about, but combined with Dad’s heart problems it’s too much. I know how selfish that sounds, but if I go I’ll only freak out again and make everything worse.
‘I c-can’t,’ I stammer. ‘The thing is, I’ve already agreed to cover holidays for people.’
‘Fine,’ she answers sulkily. ‘I have to go.’
‘Wait. Maybe we can—’
My screen goes blank before I can finish the sentence, which makes me feel even worse, but I can’t tell her the truth. I haven’t even told Dad how I feel about bikes now. Obviously, he knows I don’t ride any more, but he has no idea that I get anxious and panicky. I always meant to tell him someday, when I found the right words, but now I definitely can’t. He might get upset, which would be so bad for his heart. In other words, it’s better for everyone if they think I’m just too busy with uni and Suds to come home.
I’m still holding my phone, so I can’t resist looking at Instagram again. My account is private, but Gio’s is easy to find. His picture of me with my dream pizza has another thousand likes already. I daren’t look at the comments.
I suck in a breath because suddenly my heart is beating so fast I’m afraid it’s going to burst straight out of my chest. I’ve only been Gio’s fake girlfriend for less than twenty-four hours and already I feel like I’m in over my head.
WTF have I done?