Page 25 of Cross the Line
‘Uh-huh,’ Chantal murmurs, clearly not believing a word coming out of my mouth. ‘Gracie, babe, how long do you give it before they’re fucking?’
‘Three weeks, tops,’ she answers without hesitation.
Heat rushes up my neck as I flash them twin middle fingers. The move earns a surround-sound cackle in response. Ducking my head, I snatch various shirts, skirts and pants from the bag and toss them into a pile of patriotism I hope won’t run in the wash.
‘Did you tell your brother what happened with Dev last year?’ Grace asks. ‘Is that why you’re so hell-bent on keeping this platonic? Did he warn you off the guy?’
My head snaps up again. ‘I absolutely didnottell him. And I never will because there’s nothing to tell. It was a one-time mistake, and I’ve moved on from it.’ Mostly. Kind of. Okay, not really at all, but whatever.
Chantal sucks in air through her teeth. ‘Girl, please. You’re about to travel the world with a guy you’ve been obsessed with for ever. Do you really think this is going to stay professional?’
I heave a breath, nervously sweeping my curls over one shoulder. ‘It has to. I won’t ruin my career – one that hasn’t even started yet, by the way – by hooking up with a man who is technically my boss. I’m not that irresponsible.’
‘I’d be irresponsible a hundred times over for a man as hot as Dev,’ Grace titters, fanning herself. ‘He knows you have a crush on him; you might as well go for it, see if he feels the same way.’
‘Iused tohave a crush on him,’ I correct, my face going even hotter at the lie. ‘Past tense. Not any more.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Chantal dismisses. ‘You’re still into that boy. Can’t blame you either. He’s a dream.’
‘Fine, let’s say that Iaminto him.’ I throw my hands up. It doesn’t matter how adamantly I deny it, they’ll see straight through me. ‘Let’s say that I still have a big, silly crush. It’s not like I candoanything about it. Plus . . .’ I blow out a breath and drop my chin. ‘Remember the Jeremy situation?’
The girls go quiet at that.Thisthey understand. I can’t and won’t jeopardize more of my brother’s friendships. Not once did he question me when I told him what happened with Jeremy. He just jumped to defend me the second I needed him to. I’ll never be able to thank him enough for his loyalty and his faith in me. I can’t throw that back in his face by hooking up with another one of his friends, no matter how deep my feelings are or how long I’ve had them. I won’t run the risk of making another mess.
‘All right,’ Chantal concedes. ‘Maybe not your best option as far as boyfriends go. But I don’t see anything wrong with a secret hookup.’
‘Chantal.’
‘Come on, it’s perfect! You’ll be travelling together and staying in the same hotels. It would be so easy to slip into each other’s rooms and—’
‘Not happening.’
She tosses her braids over her shoulder and scrutinizes me. ‘Maybe it should. Maybe a few orgasms you didn’t give yourself will make you a little less snippy.’
I suck in a sharp breath, but before I can tell her to mind her business – and that I can’t even remember the last time I gave myself one – Grace sighs dreamily.
‘Summer is for falling in love, Willow,’ she says, drawing my attention to the phone again. ‘Why not open yourself up to it?’
‘Not with him.’ I have to shut this down before they get any other wild ideas. ‘Listen to me: nothing is going to happen. It can’t.’
Chantal turns the phone to face her again. I don’t need to see Grace to know she’s mirroring Chantal’s eye roll.
‘You guys don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I grumble.
Grace’s laugh carries through my bedroom like she’s right here with us. ‘You can say that all you want, honey. But no one knows you better than us.’
——
Feeling much more rested after a few days at home, I stream the Spanish Grand Prix pre-show on my laptop while I sift through my clothes and consider what I’ll actually need for the months away. For race weekends, I’ll be stuck wearing the hideous uniform, but most weekdays, I should be able to wear whatever I want. Still, it’s proving to be a challenge to narrow it down.
Other than one in Montreal, all the upcoming races are in Europe, so at least I won’t have to worry about dramatic climate differences from one place to the next. But first, according to Chava, Dev wants me to join him in San Diego for the break before the Canadian Grand Prix in two weeks.
I don’t really want to go home. I saw my parents when they came to New York for my graduation, and I’m not particularly interested in sleeping in my childhood bedroom, but in Chava’s words, this trip isn’t optional. So I guess I’m heading back to California.
‘You good?’ Chantal asks from where she’s propped up against my doorframe. ‘You’ve been staring at that pile of flag knockoffs for a while.’
I turn down the volume on the commentators predicting the outcome of the race and blow out a breath. ‘I’m trying to figure out what to pack,’ I admit. ‘I want to make sure I have what I need for all of the countries we’re hitting.’
‘Rack up those passport stamps, baby.’ She sighs wistfully. ‘I’m so jealous. I have to stay here and work in anoffice. Ew.’
