Chapter 15 #3
“Really?” My heart flutters. I have fans—I know that from my social media and Orbital-arranged meet and greets—but this is the first time someone has brought it up outside of a racing function.
“You should see our pantry.” Chloe giggles. “She hunted down a box of those special-edition energy bars with your picture on it. She won’t let any of us eat one, so I guess they’re sitting there till they expire.”
The Orbital x Girls campaign Britt strong-armed me into.
I remember feeling humiliated at being tapped on the shoulder to step out for a photoshoot in the middle of simulators—the way the guys raised their eyebrows knowingly at each other still haunts me.
I’m pleasantly taken aback that a cheesy, gratuitous ad campaign actually wound up being meaningful to someone.
“Justine,” Savannah says, interrupting my train of thought. “You must give us all the inside tea.”
“I can give you tea,” Pat says, slinging an arm around her. “Did you guys hear about the wrecked golf cart they found on the outer campus?”
I freeze. I haven’t thought about that for weeks. Well. I’ve thought about that day—mainly the part where Cameron and I were pressed together on the ground, not the part where we destroyed a golf cart and threw it over some hedges.
Cameron gives me a be cool look. I realize I’m holding my breath and clinging onto the remnants of my cotton candy for dear life, the picture of guilt.
“N-no, I haven’t,” I say, as innocently as I can. I try to casually lob the cotton candy stick into the closest bin, but the evening breeze blows it right back onto Savannah’s dress. “Omigod, I’m so sorry.”
“It was apparently sitting behind some bushes,” Pat says, peeling the thin stick off Savannah and dropping it into the garbage. “Carolina told me maintenance thinks it can’t have been that long ago; it’s a pretty new cart.”
“Are they gonna check security cameras?” Cameron asks so smoothly I have to remind myself he did, in fact, partake in this.
Pat shrugs. “They don’t have surveillance that far out, apparently. Anyway, pretty random, right?”
“Yeah, what kind of person would do that?” I try my best at a nonchalant ha-ha-ha, but I must sound off, because Cameron nudges my foot with his.
“You’re impossible.” Savannah swats Pat gently. “See what I mean, Justine? All the boys have is lukewarm rubbish tea.”
“Yeah, we want the good stuff,” Chloe says, threading her arm through mine. “Like, what’s the Marino scandal about?”
“You heard about that?” I ask, relieved we’re finally moving off the topic of mysteriously broken golf carts.
Chloe nods eagerly. “I try to keep up so my sister and I can have something to talk about.”
I’m impressed by how much she knows—the rumors only hit the paddock gossip mill a couple days ago.
Supposedly, an unnamed male Marino employee, potentially one of the drivers or senior strategists, was accused of verbal abuse toward a female employee.
I didn’t realize the news had already gone mainstream.
“Honestly, you probably know as much as I do.” I make a face. “Whoever it is probably should get fired, but if he’s important enough—which sounds like the case here—I’m sure it’ll be the usual slap on the wrist.”
“Ugh, that’s rotten,” Chloe says. I’m not sure if she’s talking about the scandal or my lack of juicy inside information.
“Right.” Cameron claps his hands together. “Shall we stand here and gossip all evening, or should we actually get to the fair?”
We work our way through the carnival rides and games: Pat gets the grand prize on the high striker his first try; Cameron sets a new high score on Whac-A-Mole. By the time we get to bumper cars, I’m itching to win something.
“Go get ’em, Justine!” Chloe calls from the sidelines. She and Savannah opted to sit out after Savannah almost threw up from teacups. (Georgios got too enthusiastic with his spinning.)
Our round starts. A techno remix of an old One Direction song blasts from staticky speakers as I troll around the rink, scouting for the guys through multicolored disco lights twirling from the ceiling. Pat comes at me first, but I swerve out of the way and manage to aim a reverse hit.
“Damn, Justine, you got me good,” he says admiringly.
Georgios clanks past, boomeranging off a hit he made on a ten-year-old.
The opportunity is too good to miss. I chase after, backing him into a corner and smashing into his car.
Then I reverse and smash into him again.
I’m preparing to back up for a third time when someone else wipes me out with a well-aimed side hit.
“Evans: one, Kwong: zero,” Cameron calls out as he shoots by, looking as gleeful as a little kid on Christmas morning.
“You are so dead,” I yell, and back away from Georgios to follow him.
He gets blocked by a traffic jam of tangled cars. I get ready to go in for the kill, but the buzzer sounds, and everything powers down.
“We need to go again. I was so close,” I call over to him as I hop out of the car.
“Madwoman.” He laughs.
“Speak for yourself. What was that hit?”
“Helping a mate out. Georgios was already dead! You were literally stomping on his frozen carcass.”
“I don’t think you know what ‘literally’ means.”
“Yeah, well, at least I wasn’t the one who almost got us caught out.” He pokes me gently in the side.
“That was incredible!” Chloe cheers from the waiting area.
“I’m so glad we didn’t end up joining. Would’ve gotten smashed up.” Savannah shakes her head.
“Smashing, eh?” Pat gives her an over-the-top wink-wink nudge-nudge. She smacks him playfully on the arm.
“How do you handle it, Justine? Having to listen to this rubbish humor all the time?” She gives a playful, dramatic sigh.
“Our sense of humor is enchanting, thank you very much,” Cameron says.
We wander toward the next ride, the boys now arguing with one another about a kart race years ago where Georgios went into the wall and whose fault it was he did (Pat’s, according to everyone except Pat).
I’ve seen the guys sauntering around downtown like this before, brimming with confidence like they own the streets. It always made me a little sad because it was something I thought I’d never get to be part of. But now I’m walking with them. Like I actually belong.
“You are so lucky being the only girl.” Savannah has her right arm looped through mine while her left is wrapped around Chloe’s waist. “The boys must fall all over themselves.”
I suppress the urge to laugh. The reality is so far from that it’s hilarious Savannah would think so.
“Tell us the juicy bits,” Chloe says. “Like, does Cameron have a girlfriend?”
“He’s so gorgeous.” Savannah sighs.
My stomach turns. “Aren’t you dating Pat?”
She giggles. “Pat’s a sweetheart, but Cam’s so nice to look at.”
“So nice,” Chloe agrees.
As if he senses we’re talking about him, Cameron calls over his shoulder, “What are you lot giggling about?”
“You,” Savannah shoots back, a flirty challenge in her voice. I’m in awe of her boldness. I could never own up to something like that—I’d be too scared to get laughed out of oblivion.
“Me? What’d I do?” He pauses so he’s walking next to us instead of the guys.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Chloe flutters her lashes at him, managing to look sultry and coy instead of like she has something in her eye, which is what I would look like if I tried that.
“Oh, come on now, you’re not gonna share?” Cameron’s dimples make an appearance again.
“What’ll you give me if I do?”
My ribs feel like someone is squeezing them.
The way Cameron and Chloe are smiling at each other makes it obvious how much sense they make.
Why wouldn’t Cameron be with someone gorgeous and charming?
Someone he doesn’t have to compete against for sponsors or championship points?
He and Chloe go together like marshmallows and hot chocolate on a cold wintry day, whereas he and I go together about as well as Hamilton and Rosberg in their Mercedes era.
“Did you have fun tonight?” Cameron asks.