6. Nevaeh
Mr. Fender welcomes me with a bright smile on Monday morning. I almost feel starstruck standing in front of him. Gillian Fender is one of the most popular reporters in Formula One. The tall, brown-eyed man with black hair and pale skin has interviewed hundreds of drivers in his fifteen years at Griffin Sports. Most of the time when I turn on the television during race weekends, I see him, that’s how well-known he is.
“Mr. Fender, it’s an honor to meet you,” I blurt out when he offers me his hand to shake.
“Please, call me Gillian. Now, let’s get you started, shall we?”
Gillian walks away without waiting for a response, and I follow him to a small desk outside of an office three times the size of an average bedroom in London.
“That’s my office, and this is your desk,” he says while pointing at both to make sure I know exactly what he means. I smile to myself, finally excited to start this chapter of my life.
“So, it’s like I’m your assistant?” I say when he reads over the things I will be doing. Gillian chuckles at my words.
“Kind of, but you won’t have to get me lunch or answer my calls. We will split our food runs, sometimes you will bring it, other times I will, but don’t worry too much about it. We will spend a lot of time traveling, and when we’re here at the office, you’ll mostly focus on writing your articles. You’re responsible for your research, editing, etc.,” he goes on before introducing me to how the printer works.
I’m expected to print everything he sends me along with highlighting the titles and doing other small tasks Gillian asks of me. I sit down in my comfortable office chair, watching him point out the drawers I can use to store my things. Then he goes on to outline what the training will look like, such as working on my areas of improvement and familiarizing myself with the publishing process on the website as well as meeting deadlines, and more.
“Have you read the article I sent in or do Mrs. Lu and Ms. Martin look over it?” I ask when I find an opening.
Gillian leans against my black, wooden desk while an easy smile lingers on his thin lips. His features are welcoming and so is his personality.
“I must say, I’m very surprised by how well you engage the reader with the text. You made it exciting to read, which is impressive for someone who is starting out as a journalist. I’m quite happy with your work, but there are small areas I’d like to point out for you to work on.”
I impressed Gillian Fender with my writing. It feels like my heart is going to bounce out of my chest from happiness.
“By the way, I don’t know if Mrs. Lu told you, but this season we are mostly going to focus on the drivers of the Velocità Rossa and Grenzenlos teams,” Gillian informs me before excusing himself and taking a call.
Fantastic.
I really cannot escape Lincoln, no matter how hard I try. Whoever is in charge of my fate loves to force him into my life. I roll my eyes before I realize this might not be the worst thing in the world. Focusing on two teams is a lot less work. Not to mention, I’m dying to meet Gabriel Biancheri. He’s an incredible driver.
And as much as I try not to be, I’m excited to see Adrian again too. I wonder if he remembers me, if he has even thought about me since we met.
A part of me thinks this is going to be his season since last year Gabriel and Adrian were head-to-head in the Drivers’ Championship. Another part of me has a feeling Lincoln will be on top.
I guess I’ll have to wait and see.
“Sorry about that,” Gillian interrupts my thoughts, and I look up at him. “That was Mrs. Lu. She informed me that Gabriel Biancheri, Adrian Romana, Lincoln Nash, and Kyle Hughes have accepted our invitation to meet the reporters who will interview and write about them. They will be here on Wednesday,” he says. I fake an excited smile.
This is possibly the worst thing he could have told me I had to do this week.
By the end of the day, I’m tired and hungry. I haven’t eaten all day because my emotions have been all over the place. I walk out of the building and toward the pickup area. Mama offered to drive me since my car is at the shop.
When I don’t see her anywhere, I turn on my phone for the first time today. A message from her pops up.
Nope, I’m not doing this. I hurry over to the taxi stand when his voice stops me dead in my tracks.
“Butterflyyy,” he sings, and I let out a groan so loud, I hope he hears it. “Don’t be silly and waste your money on a taxi. My car is all warm and cozy,” he says.
At the same moment, I shiver from a cool gust of wind. No part of me is in the mood to take a taxi, but I’d also rather walk home than get in his extravagant car. I attempt to walk again when his voice turns soft.
“Nevaeh, let me take you home.”
I take a deep breath before turning around and stepping toward him. He’s leaning against his Grenzenlos sports car, arms crossed in front of his chest. Whether I’d like to admit it or not, he radiates hotness with that seductive smirk and confident stance.
Instead of talking to him, I simply get into his car and enjoy the warmth. He’s chuckling as he sits down next to me. My fingers fumble around in my bag in search of a distraction. I take out my article to study the comments Gillian left for me.
“How was your first day at work?” Lincoln asks after being able to keep quiet for an impressive five seconds.
“Why are you talking to me?” I challenge, and his lips curl into a smile.
“Because you hate small talk. So, how was your day?”
He’s right. I absolutely hate small talk, especially with someone I dislike. Lincoln checks both boxes at the moment. I should ignore him, but if I do, I would do exactly what he expects. If I don’t, I’ll have to converse with him.
Either way, I lose, which is exactly what he wants.
“My day was great. I got a lot of training done, and Kellan, my performance coach, is happy with my progress,” Lincoln informs me when I take too long to answer.
“It’s good that you’re making progress in one area of your life, considering that your maturity level keeps dropping with every interaction between us.”
He chuckles at my response, which only pisses me off more. I don’t know what it is about him and the need to bother me. After all, Lincoln is the one who fucked up our friendship, not me. I used to care about him before everything went to shit between us.
He was my best friend.
“I’m very proud of you for getting this job, Nevs. I think you’re going to do great.” His words startle me. They’re sincere, and I can read on his frustratingly handsome face that he means them, which is why I nearly regret my next words.
“And you think I give a shit if you’re proud of me?” His face falls, making pain shoot through my chest. I forget how to breathe, too surprised by the way my heart responds to hurting his feelings.
“You used to care…” He trails off, his hands securely placed on the steering wheel and his eyes fixated on the icy road ahead of us. It hasn’t snowed in a few hours, but the roads are not entirely safe to drive on. “I don’t know how many times I can apologize until you forgive me,” he complains, and all feelings of compassion evaporate off my skin as anger replaces them.
“How about you start by actually apologizing, Linc?” I suggest while he parks the car in front of my house.
His head turns in my direction, showing me that his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth and his full eyebrows are furrowed. Why the hell is he confused? I know he’s not stupid, he was at the top of his class when he graduated high school.
“What? You don’t believe me that you never apologized? Well, look back at every interaction we had since that day, you never did.” I open his car door and attempt to get out when he grabs my wrist and drags me back inside the car.
“You can’t keep running away from me, Nevs. We have to talk this out,” he says, and while I agree, he still hasn’t said the one thing I need to hear from him.
“We can talk this out when you’ve grown up and learned that what you did was wrong. Until then, you’ll remain a stranger to me.” Lincoln lets go of my wrist but his hazel eyes have a different hold on me. Their familiarity makes me want to stay and figure out how to fix this horrible situation between us.
“You’ll never forgive me, butterfly, whether I apologize or not. The sooner you stop lying to yourself about that, the sooner you’ll realize you have to let go of your hatred to be ready to hear my apology.” Lincoln has lost his goddamn mind. It’s the only logical explanation I have for the nonsense coming out of his mouth.
“Next time, don’t pick me up, jerk,” I say before getting out.
I would slam the door if I didn’t love his car and wished I could drive the same. That’s the benefit of being a Formula One driver for the Grenzenlos team. They give you the newest models to advertise.
I rush inside to lock the door and let my racing heart find its normal rhythm. My anxiety has spiked so high from our conversation, my hands are shaking again. I hate confrontation. It always makes my skin crawl, panic filling me from top to bottom. One would think after all my fights with Lincoln it’d get easier, but it never does.
“Are you okay? Your cheeks are all flushed,” Nova says, and I jump.
“I’m fine,” I reply while my voice betrays me and cracks.
If there is one person in the world I cannot lie to, it’s Nova. My sister wraps her arm around my shoulders and pulls me close.
“Okay, don’t tell me, but I would like to hear about your first day while we drink some tea and eat the scones Aileen baked.” Nova pulls me into the kitchen and toward her girlfriend, who is busy finishing the goodies she prepared.
My sister wraps her long arms around Aileen’s waist, and I settle down on one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Our modern-styled kitchen has too many mahogany cupboards and only the newest appliances. What for, I have no idea. I’m useless in the kitchen, neither a good baker nor a good cook, just like most of my family. But Aileen loves it here. Her flat barely has a stove or space for one. That’s why Nova insists on her coming over so much, and none of us mind.
We love Aileen. She always brightens up our days.
Is Gillian Fender as nice in person as he seems on screen?is the first question Aileen asks, and I smile at her.
She knows that I like specific questions a lot more than the ones Lincoln asked. It makes me feel like the person is actually interested in my day rather than forcing a conversation. I know it’s a strange pet peeve to have, but I’ve felt this way for as long as I can remember.
Aileen’s and Nova’s faces light up when I tell them how kind Gillian is and they are intrigued as I share what will happen on Wednesday. Nova met most of the drivers because she took a year to travel and went around the world with Papa for an entire season two years ago, but I never had the time.
Now, it will be my job to get to know them, and while I’m somewhat excited about the meeting, I’m also very nervous.
Hopefully, everything will go well.