Page 52 of The Fake Date Deal

“What?” Sandro smirked. “Hey, when’s the wedding?”

Something snapped deep inside me. I felt it go. Frustration surged through me. Anger. Resentment. She’d marry Rafael for what, for her parents? Commit to a life she didn’t want? All that for him, and for me, what? What? I’d been there, supported her, made her look good. Held her when she needed it. Got her that commercial. I’d been ready to, yeah, be boring for her. To be domestic, to be a ‘we.’ I’d have given things up for her, whole parts of my life, and all she could do was run off to New Zealand? Ditch me, move on like I never mattered? Like all I’d been was some tool in her toolbox?

“No wedding,” I said. “We’re not like that.”

Sandro shot me a doubtful look. “Then what are you like?”

“We’re like, uh, we…” A mean inspiration struck, a rotten impulse. I grinned like an asshole, greasy and slick. “Being with Eve, it’s like eating peaches. Juicy, refreshing, a sweet summer treat. But the reason it’s good is, the season is short. We’ll be done in a week or two. I’ll be back on the scene.”

Danny whistled. “That’s harsh.”

Chet scowled. “You mean that?”

My foolish resentment fell in on itself. I saw myself in that moment like the guys must have seen me, puffed up and crowing like the world’s biggest dick.

“We were teasing,” said Sandro. “We thought you were happy.”

I stood feeling stupid and small and ashamed. Hadn’t I been happy? Of course I had. Eve hadn’t lied to me or led me on. If I wanted more than she did, that was on me. But I’d never even had the courage to stand up and ask her.

“I have to go,” I said.

“No, Marco, wait!” Danny started after me, but I strode out. I couldn’t leave it even one second more. I had to get to her, tell her?—

“Where are you going?” Glen jumped out from nowhere. I tried to push past him.

“Out of my way.”

“Not now you don’t. The photo crew’s waiting.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“The behind-the-scenes spread. You signed off, remember?”

I stared at him blankly. He threw up his hands.

“For Drivers’ World. Now move it, come on. We’ve just got time left before the race starts.”

Next thing I knew, I was back in my room, posing with my books. Faking my ritual. The camera guy kept yelling relax, but all I could think of was Eve in the stands. Eve out there not knowing how I really felt. I had to get to her, lay it all out. She had to know how special she was. How she made my heart race. Even if she didn’t feel how I felt, I needed her to know she had me. I was hers. I knew, as well, what I should’ve said to Sandro: falling in love didn’t make a man boring. The boring part was the partying, the nights out, the hunt. Love was the point of it. The start, not the end.

I scanned the stands at the start of the race, but the crowd was too tight-packed. I couldn’t find Eve. My heart battered hard on the cage of my ribs. She was up there. Of course she was. But where, where…

Next thing I knew, I was gripping the wheel. Racing to get to her, to our big moment. I couldn’t think about winning, or anything else. Only her, only Eve at the end of the race. She was my prize now, and my destination. My world was the track, and the track was a road, and she was at the end of it. I had to get to her.

The tarmac flashed by me, the stands and the lights. The sky dimmed through all shades of late afternoon, shadows lengthening with deepening dusk. An impossible vision filled my heart and my head: the race done and won, and I leapt from my car. Eve was there waiting, bathed in starlight. I ran to her, held her, buried my face in her hair. Told her I loved her. She whispered it back. The roar of the track and the crowd fell away, leaving the two of us to seal our love with a kiss.

I almost missed the last lap, caught up in my vision. Almost kept driving and driving forever. Or until they stopped me, whichever came first. I stepped out only dimly knowing I’d won, searching already for Eve in the stands. I still couldn’t find her. Had she slipped down to meet me?

Cameras flashed, bright in the twilight. Someone, maybe Danny, clapped me on the back. I grinned, raised my arms, but where was Eve? I’d come so far to get to her. Driven so fast. The lights were too bright, obscuring the stands. Maybe she’d gone on ahead to my room. A microphone thrust its blunt nose in my face.

“—quite a winning streak! What’s your next challenge?”

“Ready for your rematch with Prince Rafael?”

“Any time, any place. He knows where to find me.” I was babbling, making no sense. Rafael didn’t have to come find me. Our next race was set in just over a week. But all I could think of was getting to Eve. Everything else was so much background noise. I peered over the cameras to scan through the stands, but she wasn’t up there or down on the track. She wasn’t anywhere I could make out.

“What’s your strategy, Marco? To beat Rafael?”

I smiled, still searching. Manufactured a laugh. “I’d better not say,” I said. “Might tip my hand.”

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