Dominic #2
“I’m relaxed,” I scoffed, though the words felt tight in my throat.
“Do you want to see the force-velocity graphs?” Marco asked, completely oblivious as I rolled my shoulders once, like I could shake off whatever had just settled under my skin. “I’ve got the live update right here if you want to walk through the low-speed corners.”
"Sure," I lied.
I stared at the tablet Marco held up, but the data points were just a blur of neon green and red. I wasn't looking at the curves. Ten feet away, Luka was leaning in closer to Carter, his shoulder nearly brushing hers.
“It’s the best view in the area,” Luka’s voice drifted over, smooth and easy. “The sun hits the crests and everything turns copper. You can’t tell me you’d rather stay home and organize notes for an essay.”
“I have a lot of work, Luka,” Carter countered, though her smile edged sharper than soft. “And I’ve been to the dunes before. Does the novelty not wear off for you?” Her head tilted, just enough to make it pointed. “Besides is it the best view because of the races… or the ocean?”
"Both," Luka pushed, leaning closer into her space.
I shifted my weight, craning my neck under the guise of looking at the rear wing assembly. I leaned in toward their conversation, my shoulder brushing a stack of wing flaps resting on the bench. The top one slid, clattering loudly against the floor.
The sound was like a gunshot in the garage. Both Luka and Carter snapped their heads toward me. I didn't apologize. I just stared at the floor as if the mess had personally offended me.
“Good to know we’re stacking these like a house of cards now,” I muttered, nudging the carbon fiber with the toe of my shoe. “Whose brilliant system is that?”
Luka’s eyes lingered on me for a second too long before giving in and turning back to Carter. They leaned in again, their voices dropping into a lower, more private murmur that made my blood boil.
"Are you even listening to me?" Marco’s voice broke through. "I said if we pull the floor to check the plank wear, it’s going to cost us an extra two hours."
"Whatever you need, Marco. Just fix the car," I snapped, my eyes never leaving the back of Luka’s head.
Marco didn't get offended. He was used to the prickle. He slowly lowered his tablet, following my line of sight until he settled on the pair by the tool chest. A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face.
"Ah," Marco chuckled, leaning back against the workbench. "I see. Hard to focus on downforce levels when the view over there is improving, eh? Luka’s finally growing some balls. It looks like he’s got quite the crush."
A violent twitch pulled through my cheekbone. I didn't say a word, but my hands locked around the workbench hard enough to strain my forearms.
Marco’s smile faltered. He looked back at me, his eyes sharpening as he read the tension radiating off my shoulders. The humor died out of his expression, replaced by a look of sudden, uncomfortable realization.
"Is that... a bad thing?" He asked quietly, his voice dropping an octave. "Luka and Carter?"
"Luka needs to focus on school," I said, my voice like falling glass. "And she needs to stay out of the garage."
Across the room, Luka was going in for the kill.
"One hour," Luka promised, his tone tilting into that persuasive charm he usually reserved for sponsors. "If the sunset is a bust, I’ll drive you back and never mention the sand again. Come on, Carter. Live a little."
I stilled, my breath catching in my throat without me meaning it to. I was just waiting to see where she’d land. I knew that look on her face; she was going to say no. She had to. I could practically see her letting him down easy, the rejection already formed in the tilt of her head.
I leaned back against the workbench, a slow, dark sense of satisfaction settling in my gut. I knew exactly what was going on in her head, and it wasn't dune races or the sunset with my brother.
Her mouth opened, and I could see the denial already forming on her lips before she even had to say it. I was so sure of it I almost started walking away.
"Fine," she said, her voice ringing out clear across the concrete. "One hour, but that’s all I’m promising.”
The satisfaction died in my throat, replaced by a clarity that made my blood run hot. She didn't look at me. She didn't have to. The "fine" hit me harder than any insult she’d thrown at me.
"It's a date," Luka beamed.
I felt a sharp, sudden knot tighten right behind my sternum.
I reached up, rubbing the heel of my palm against the center of my chest as if I could physically grind the pressure away, but the weight wouldn't budge.
It was a restless, suffocating energy that made the garage feel ten degrees hotter than it was.
I didn't wait for them to leave. I grabbed my jacket, my eyes fixed on the back of her head until they rounded the corner, leaving me standing in a silence that suddenly felt too big for the bay.
"Marco," I said, my voice sounding like it was coming from someone else entirely.
"Yeah?"
"Don't worry about the floor tonight. I’m done with the car."
I was already moving toward the exit, my stride long and aggressive.
"Whoa, hey—we still have work," Marco called out, the clatter of a wrench hitting the bench echoing behind me. "We’ve got data to scrub before the morning session."
"I’ll be in first thing tomorrow," I threw back over my shoulder, not slowing down. "Four a.m. Promise."
"Dominic."
The tone in Marco’s voice made me stop at the heavy metal door. I didn't turn around, but I could feel him watching me. I stared at the exit sign, my heart hammering a rhythm that had nothing to do with racing.
Behind me, the rhythmic sound of Marco wiping down the bench stopped. I caught his reflection in the glass of the door’s small window—the grease-stained rag stilled in his hands. He wasn't looking at the car anymore; he just stood there for a long beat, his silhouette frozen.
"Get some sleep," he said finally. His voice was unusually level, stripped of the usual garage banter. He didn't ask where I was going. He didn't have to. "And try not to break anything you can't fix."
In the reflection, I saw him turn the rag over in his hands, his gaze shifting toward me with a look that was too steady, too knowing. It made the knot in my chest tighten. I didn't ask him what he meant. I didn't want to know.
I pushed through the door and hit the evening air at a sprint. I climbed into my car, the engine's roar the only thing loud enough to drown out the sound of her voice saying fine.
I knew where I was going. And I had no intention of arriving late.