Chapter 2 #3
And all I’ve ever done is watch, because Ava Farahani is as off-limits as a person can be.
‘No problem,’ she says. ‘Figured I owed you for shutting down all those rumors about me. Least I could do.’
‘You don’t owe me anything,’ I tell her, taken aback that she could even think she did. If anything, I’m the one who owes her for helping me in the first place.
‘Still.’ She waves it off. Literally waves her little sparkly bag in the air, nearly hitting me.
Clearly she doesn’t want to dwell on the topic, and neither do I.
We don’t need a reminder of what we’ve faced.
‘Unless you need me to rescue you again, I’m gonna head out.
My date left already and I’ve been getting some . . . unfortunate glances.’
Again, I grimace, because it’s my fault she’s getting those stares, but Ava’s still bright as ever as she announces it. There’s a radiating light inside her, and it only makes me more aware of the cloud perpetually hanging over my head. I might hate her for it if I weren’t so sickeningly envious.
And I have to admit, it’s not the only form of envy I feel, the rest of it directed toward whoever her date tonight was.
I’ve seen Ava with dates here and there over the years, usually at events just like this one, gazing at them with the kind of adoration I could only ever dream of being on the receiving end of from her.
Each time, I’ve had to tamp down unearned jealousy, reminding myself why acting on my attraction is a terrible idea.
Still, it never stops my chest from burning or my ill-advised crush from waning.
I swear, every time I see her, it only grows.
But I know better than to mix business and pleasure, and I certainly know not to pursue the daughter of any team principal, especially not the one of Mascort’s biggest rival. And definitely not one whose life I’ve already upended by mistake.
‘So yeah,’ Ava finishes on a disappointed exhale. ‘Probably my cue to go.’
‘Wish I could do the same,’ I say wryly.
‘Someone’s bound to send a search party for me soon.
’ I clear my throat to dislodge the bitterness, pointedly avoiding her gaze.
I need to leave her be so she doesn’t face yet another round of vicious gossip.
‘Sorry for nearly mowing you down. Have a good night, Ava.’
I should say more, should apologize not just for nearly knocking her over, but for everything else.
We never spoke in the aftermath of those photos and articles, and I never got to thank her for keeping the secret of what really happened – not that I think the gossip hounds would have believed the truth.
But my jaw stays clamped shut. There’s no point in it all, not after this long. She’s moved on and is clearly doing well. There’s no need for me to bring it back up.
I’m turning to leave when her hand lands on my arm. I could easily slip away. It would be for the best. Just keep it all in the past where it belongs. Instead, I stop and look back at her.
Ava’s already staring up at me, and I see the wheels turning in her head as she contemplates something. Then she asks, ‘How do you feel about french fries and cheap bourbon?’
‘I . . . What?’ I squint, thrown by the question. I wait for her to either repeat or explain, but she only watches me expectantly. ‘I don’t mind them,’ I finally answer.
‘And how do you feel about the American flag being used for multiple types of decor?’
‘As long as it’s not in my house, I don’t care how it’s used,’ I say slowly. ‘Why?’
She brightens, her entire face lighting up in a way that makes me wonder if I’ve ever felt that kind of happiness. ‘Because I know a place that has all three and I doubt anyone there will recognize you. Do you want to come with me?’
Hard to believe no one would recognize me, especially in my own hometown, but I think I’d take anywhere over being here.
I’m going to end up cornered for the rest of the night because people want to pick and prod and poke, and this is their big chance.
I thought I was ready for it, but it’s become very clear that I’m not.
If I stay, someone will make me admit my truth – that I don’t want to do this any more.
That climbing into a Formula 1 car scares the hell out of me.
That I’m so fucking done with putting my life on the line for entertainment week after week and yet I’m going to keep doing it anyway because I can’t stop now.
My best option is to just go home. If not to my own house, then to my mum’s or my brother’s. I should go cuddle my nephew and imagine the life and family I could have had by now if I hadn’t given everything to racing.
What I shouldn’t do is go anywhere with Ava. Being spotted together was what got us into a mess in the first place. We don’t need to reignite anything and cause round two of drama, no matter how desperate I am to stay in the warmth of her presence for just a little longer.
Besides, it’s nearly the start of the season, and past some champagne at parties and on the podium, I don’t drink during those months. I certainly don’t eat anything outside my dietician’s strict plan, and last I checked, chips weren’t on it.
I have my structure and I stick to it. I have my rules. It’s all there to keep me out of trouble, no matter how alluring the trouble is.
And yet, despite all that, I tell her, ‘Lead the way.’