Chapter 18 #2
“C’mon, don’t be a sad arse!” she yells, blue-and-blond ponytail bouncing behind her.
Reluctantly, I throw my arms up and go for it.
Turns out, dancing is a lot easier when I’m in a darkened room where no one can see me.
The tequila coursing through my veins like some relaxing agent helps, too.
Tension flows out of me, replaced by alcohol-induced headiness.
I bounce and bob in sync with the rhythm, letting it move through me.
There’s a light touch on my waist, and I look up to see Cameron grinning down at me through the blue and white lights. I’m lightheaded in the best kind of way.
“You’re quite the dancer, Kwong!” he yells into my ear.
“There’s lots you don’t know about me,” I shout back.
He quirks up his lips. “C’mon, then, show me your moves.”
With his fingers on my hip, he pulls me to him, lips grazing my ear.
The zing that shoots through me is matched by the change in beat as the DJ transitions to the next song.
It’s slower, sexier. I lean back; he takes my hand and spins me so we’re face-to-face.
Our lips are a whisper apart, and I can smell the sweet, tangy scent of beer on his breath.
It almost makes me want to give Hendriksen another shot.
He leans down. The breath swoops out of my lungs.
We’re close enough to kiss. And I want us to. I want us to. Even if it goes against everything that makes sense.
There’s a surge in the throng, and it takes me a moment to realize I’m no longer in Cameron’s arms. I’ve been wrenched away and I can’t see him, or Roz, anywhere. The only person I recognize is Sasha Devin, who I’ve somehow ended up next to.
“What are you doing here?” I let the distaste show in my voice.
Sasha narrows his eyes. “Partying, obviously.”
“But you’re not with Orbital.”
“So? Half the county is here tonight. You have a problem with that?”
“No, but I have a problem with your misogynistic opinions about the W Series.” Wow. I do not hold back when I have alcohol in me.
Sasha rolls his eyes. “Can we please leave the woke culture war stuff for one night?”
There’s another push, and the jostling separates us before I can throw my drink in his face.
The source of all the shoving becomes apparent a moment later—Dietrich, making his way through the masses, and Lou’s bodyguard, pushing hordes of clubbers turned mobbing fans aside.
“Justine!” Dietrich grins when he spots me. “Just who I wanted to see.” He slings an arm around my shoulders and pulls me toward the Orbital area. “What a mess. The boys let too many girls in.”
There’s even more models-cum-influencers in the Orbital section now than before.
It’s obvious who the culprits are, judging by the gleeful grins on Pat, Georgios, and some of the mechanics’ faces as they stand in a crowd that’s at least a 1:8 ratio in their favor.
The girls turn like hungry lionesses as Dietrich steps into the area.
“I think you’re the only one who thinks too many girls is an issue,” I tell him, grinning.
“I know, I sound like a blag. It’s fun at first, but once you realize most girls only want to sell the tabloids a story about the teddy on your bed, it’s not so nice.”
“What kind of teddy bear?”
He laughs.
“Dietrich!” Yet another girl waves at him.
I do a double take when I recognize Hannie, my co-reject from earlier.
I’m happy she made it in, though surprised she knows Dietrich—he’s not exactly social with the locals like the rest of the guys are.
She walks toward us, her face breaking into a tentative smile.
Dietrich jerks out his hand, grabs my waist, and pulls me so quickly to his side you’d think Hannie was an armed robber and I was body armor.
Her smile evaporates, and she veers off sharply to another table.
Dietrich’s still latched on to me, his entire body tense. He only lets go a few long moments later, releasing a slow breath.
“Wait.” The gears in my brain turn, significantly slowed by the deafening music and alcohol. Something deep in my memory unearths itself. “Hannie. Isn’t that your ex’s name?”
The stricken look on his face confirms my suspicions.
“What’s she doing here? I thought she lived in Germany.” Heidelberg, according to F1 TikTok.
“She does.” Dietrich sinks down on a couch.
“I have no idea what is going on. She has been texting me. She wants to talk, but…” He heaves a sigh.
“My father thinks she’s a bad influence.
We broke up because she wanted me to quit F1 and come back—she said there was no point doing long distance if I wasn’t doing what I wanted to. ”
“Did you want to? Quit?” It was mind-blowing the first time he brought up leaving, but ever since then, I can’t help noticing how much he autopilots through all his race weekends.
“I was going to. We had a plan. I would retire, spend a year taking courses and applying to university, then study environmental sciences at Heidelberg while Hannie finishes up school and gets a job nearby. But in the end, I could not make Papa understand. And Hannie was done with me.”
“Why not talk to her now?” The words feel like they’re coming from someone else. Dietrich Lange—my date and the driver I’ve been crushing on for years—clearly still has feelings for his ex-girlfriend, and somehow I don’t want to throw myself off the side of a cliff.
“I am scared that it will not end differently from last time.” Dietrich looks like a frightened little boy, not an F1 champion on top of the world.
My face must be all wonky, because he gives me a sober look. “I’m very sorry, Justine. I am a mess. I invited you tonight, and now I’m making you listen about my ex.”