SIXTEEN
‘I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE dating an F1 driver!’ Daisy exclaims, waving her hands emphatically. We’re FaceTiming and everything she says seems to be punctuated with exclamation marks.
I smile uncomfortably. I had no choice but to tell Dad about my (fake) boyfriend after a photo of us with our arms wrapped round each other after the race was splashed across the sports’ sections of several national newspapers. I felt terrible for lying, but, surprisingly, he took the news in his stride. Unlike Daisy, who’s told me I ‘slay’ at least a dozen times since. Aside from the fact that ‘he’s not Jaxon’, she wholeheartedly approves of Gio, who she says has gorgeous eyes and an accent to die for. And, on the plus side, she’s finally forgiven me for not coming home this summer.
At the moment, she’s paying more attention to Gio than I am. We flew back home together from the Netherlands, but I haven’t seen him since. He was busy with race analysis for a few days, and now he’s in Paris, doing a photo shoot for some luxury brand of chocolate. Apparently their concept is for him to look like an explorer, forging his way through the jungles of Central America in nothing more than a tight white vest and combat trousers.
I, meanwhile, have been getting back to my normal routine, which is good because after what happened in Zandvoort a cooling-off period may be just what I need.
Daisy, however, is mildly obsessed. ‘Can you bring Gio here for a visit?’
‘I can’t. You know I have to work.’
‘Just for a couple of days,’ she whines. ‘Please, please, please? Then nobody can say your relationship is fake.’
‘What?’ I feel my pulse accelerate suddenly. ‘Who says our relationship is fake?’
‘Some trash website. They think you’re only pretend dating.’
I try not to panic. ‘Why would they say that?’
‘Because they’re assholes. And something about body language.’
For once, I don’t bother to lecture her about bad language. ‘Do you remember the name of this website?’
‘No, but I can find it again and send you a link, if you like?’
I open my mouth to say yes and then change my mind. On the one hand, I want to know what people are saying about us, especially if they’ve somehow worked out the truth. On the other, I don’t want to be paranoid and go down some internet rabbit hole. Besides, if there were a real problem, either Bo or Fraser’s publicity team would have spotted it and contacted me. Whatever’s being said, it can only be rumour and speculation. Gio, Bo and I are the only people in the world who know the truth, and all of us have too much to lose to tell anyone.
‘Actually, don’t bother,’ I say. ‘I don’t have time to read conspiracy theories. Unless anyone has anything nice to say on the internet, I don’t want to know.’
‘There’s some nice stuff too.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, from Gio’s fans. They think you’ve fixed his head or something. What does that mean?’
‘I guess they think being with me helps him be a better driver, or something,’ I say, feeling weirdly flattered. I wonder if I can use that quote if I eventually do become a sports psychologist?
‘Oh.’ Daisy glances over her shoulder. ‘Do you want to speak to your dad? He just got home.’
‘No!’ I glance at the pile of metal around me and shake my head vigorously. I don’t want Dad of all people to see what I’m doing. I can’t get his hopes up, just in case. ‘I mean, I have to get on with something right now. Tell him I say hi and I’ll call soon, OK?’
‘OK. Shall I let you know if I find any more conspiracy theories about you?’
‘Only if they make me sound good. Now, I really have to go.’
‘Was that Daisy?’ Ava asks the moment I turn my screen off, causing me to drop the pedal I’m holding in my other hand and squeal at a pitch usually reserved for bats.
‘You snuck up on me!’ I exclaim, spinning round and clamping a now-empty hand to my chest. ‘You need some louder slippers.’
‘And replace Bubbles and Snuffles? Never!’ She sits down on the floor, thrusting her fluffy unicorn slippers towards me.
‘How was work?’ I ask, reaching for my fallen pedal.
‘Long. To be honest, I’m getting a bit sick of talking about consoles all day.’ She yawns widely for emphasis. ‘So, follow-up question: why is there a heap of rusty junk all over our floor?’
‘First of all, it’s not rusty,’ I answer indignantly. ‘It’s just a bit battered. Second, it’s not on the floor. It’s on newspaper laid out over the floor. Third, it’s not junk, it’s going to be a bike. I’m building it.’
‘Can you do that?’
‘Yes.’ I survey the various bits and pieces spread around me like some large metal nest and nod proudly. As it turns out, building a bike is a lot like riding one. Once you learn how, you never forget.
‘Does this mean you’re going to start cycling again? Wow! That’s a big deal!’ Ava looks both impressed and confused because she knows my history. ‘I thought you said you never wanted to ride bikes again? You’re always complaining about the cyclists in Cambridge.’
‘I’ve had a change of heart,’ I say. ‘And I only complain about bad cyclists who don’t use helmets or lights, or who don’t bother indicating. Amateurs.’
Ava picks up a dirty rag between her thumb and forefinger. ‘Couldn’t you have a change of heart with something cleaner?’
‘I couldn’t afford to. Luckily, the bike shop let me have this lot for fifty pounds.’
‘You were robbed!’
‘Actually, the frame is pretty sturdy and these spokes are only a little dented and this saddle is …’ I take a closer look at the saddle. Honestly, it looks like an instrument of torture, especially since I no longer own a pair of padded shorts. ‘Never mind the saddle. Just give me a few days and it’ll be good as new. Like Frankenstein’s monster, without the murder. Hopefully.’
‘If you say so.’ Ava purses her lips. ‘Now, are you ever going to tell me about last weekend or do I have to shake it out of you?’
‘What do you mean?’ I look up again in surprise. ‘I told you all about it.’
‘About the race, yes. I mean about Gio. What’s going on with the two of you? I can only mind my own business for so long.’
I duck my head guiltily because I know I’m going to have to lie to her again. I wish I could talk to her about what happened in Zandvoort, but my stupid contract won’t let me. ‘It’s … you know, going well.’
‘But you haven’t slept together yet?’
‘What makes you say that?’ Suddenly I wonder if she’s been looking at the same website as Daisy. Does she suspect that we’re faking it too?
She lifts a shoulder. ‘It just seems like if you were sleeping with a hot F1 driver, you wouldn’t have enough energy to be building a bike. You’d be lying in bed, exhausted from all the wild sex.’
‘Why does it have to be wild? Just because he drives a fast car?’ I roll my eyes. ‘Maybe some drivers like to take it slow for a change of pace?’
‘Possibly.’ She looks thoughtful. ‘But I prefer to think otherwise.’
‘Well, if you must know, Gio’s been busy all week.’ I pick up a wrench. ‘He’s in Paris right now.’
‘Oh, I didn’t know that.’
‘And what does it matter if we’re having sex or not?’
‘It doesn’t.’
I point the wrench at her. ‘You’re not having sex with anyone.’
‘ Very true.’
‘You don’t even date.’
‘Also aware.’
‘You always say you have better things to do with your time.’
‘One hundred per cent. So to summarize, I’m right and you’re not sleeping with Gio?’
‘No,’ I admit. ‘I’m not sleeping with Gio. We’re taking things slowly.’
‘Hmm.’
‘What?’
‘It’s just that with his reputation …’
‘His reputation is unfair,’ I say, getting indignant again. ‘That article by Iris Calver was revenge. I mean, he behaved stupidly at Silverstone, but he apologized and he hasn’t done anything like it since. He’s a decent guy.’
‘That’s good.’ Ava smiles. ‘I mean, really good. I guess I’m just a little surprised, considering the way he looks at you.’
I blink at her. ‘What way he looks at me?’
‘You know, all that smouldering.’
‘He does not smoulder!’
‘Oh yes, he does. Look!’ She pulls out her phone and shows me a picture. It’s from the party on the night I arrived at Zandvoort. I’m walking arm-in-arm with Piper while Gio is looking over his shoulder at us or, more specifically, at my bottom.
‘Is he looking at my bum?’ I need independent verification.
‘Um, yes !’
‘Why? It barely exists.’
‘It’s still there .’ She taps her screen. ‘See that expression on his face? That, my friend, is the definition of smoulder.’
‘Where did you find this?’
‘Instagram. One of the other guests posted it.’
I peer closer at Gio’s face. I’ve always assumed his intense looks were part of his fake boyfriend act, but there was no need for him to act at that moment. He seems to be radiating heat through the screen. I ought to feel objectified, but honestly, I’m a little thrilled. It’s a relief to find the attraction isn’t all one-sided, after all.
‘So, no offence, but how long are all these bike parts going to be here?’ Ava asks, changing the subject.
‘What?’ I tear my gaze away from her phone. ‘Oh, not long. Once I put everything together, it’ll be a lot more compact. Then I just need to source a few more parts and I’ll be ready for a test ride.’
‘Well, let me know if you want any moral support. I’m happy to come and cheerlead.’
‘Do you have pom poms?’
‘No, but I have bobble hats. I could wave them around and make up catchy rhymes?’
‘Thank you.’ I smile gratefully. ‘But much as I’d love to hear those, I think this is something I need to do for myself.’
‘OK, but set up Find My on your phone. Then if you have an accident, I’ll know where to send the ambulance.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’ I laugh and look round, just in time to see something flash at the edge of my vision.
‘Did you see that?’ I frown at the balcony door. For a split second, as I turned my head, I thought I saw movement, but it was so quick I can’t be certain.
‘See what?’
‘I’m not sure.’ I’m already on my feet, heading for the balcony. The space outside is empty, but I hear the door to our neighbours’ balcony closing. A couple live there. We don’t know them very well, but they’ve always seemed nice.
‘What is it?’ Ava comes to stand beside me.
‘I don’t know. Probably nothing.’ I slide the door shut again, draw the blinds firmly and hope I’m imagining things.