Page 45 of Cross the Line
‘Looks like I’m not your lucky charm after all.’
In a secluded corner of the Argonaut garage, Dev runs a towel over his sweaty hair. He pushes the loose curls back from his face and ruffles them, letting them fall at random. Even after a gruelling race spent defending hard for his teammate, he looks practically perfect.
But the Dev standing in front of me now is a man I barely recognize. This one has slumped shoulders and a grim set to his mouth. He’s unhappy, that much is clear, and he’s hidden away in this corner so that no one else catches a glimpse of him like this.
He didn’t want me to witness it either, but I knew the half smile he shuffled into the pit lane wearing was fake, so I followed him back here after Chava silently handed him a water bottle and a towel, clearly knowing better than me not to bother Dev in a moment like this.
Dev tried to protest when he noticed me trailing behind him, but he shut his mouth after my lucky charm comment. He still hasn’t spoken, so I’m left watching him and racking my brain for a way to lighten the mood.
I heard the team radio, heard his race engineer tell him he wasn’t allowed to pass his teammate. It resulted in a twelfth-place finish, eleventh for Nathaniel. Neither of them scored points. No wonder he’s defeated and exhausted. All of that for nothing.
I may be new to the scene, but the tension between Dev’s side of the garage and Nathaniel’s is impossible to miss. It’s obvious who the priority is, which no doubt has a little something to do with the team’s owner. I don’t know exactly why Dev hates Nathaniel so much, but eventually, I’ll pry the full story out of him. For now, seeing first hand how the team treats Dev explains a lot.
From the beginning of my venture as his social media manager, my goal has been to get the attention of the higher-ups at Argonaut, to make them see his value to the team. But maybe I’m looking at this all wrong. Maybe I need to organize a new game plan, because, from what I’ve seen so far, this group will never have his best interests at heart as long as Buck Decker is in charge.
‘When you’re finished with interviews and debriefing,’ I say, ‘come find me at the hotel, yeah?’
There’s a long pause before he gruffly answers, ‘Yeah.’
Pushing my luck and the boundaries we’ve established, I press up onto my tiptoes and brush away a curl that’s flopped onto his forehead. I don’t miss the surprise in his eyes as I do so, but I choose not to acknowledge it.
‘There,’ I proclaim, smiling up at him, my heart beating a little faster. ‘Now you’re camera-ready.’
——
It’s after eleven when there’s a knock at my door.
I unfold myself from bed and pad over, placing my fingertips on the smooth surface so I can check the peephole. I can’t see the face of the man standing out in the hotel hallway. His arm is extended to brace against the doorframe and his chin is tucked against his chest, but there’s no mistaking it’s Dev.
He slowly lifts his head when I haul open the door. He’s showered and changed, but his expression is just as bleak as when I left him in the garage after the race. To my surprise, he’s wearing a navy T-shirt with the Argonaut logo and a pair of jeans. After today, you’d think he’d choose something without the team’s branding on it, but I’m guessing – just like the order he was given in the race – he didn’t have a choice.
‘Hey,’ he says, his voice low and rough.
‘Hey.’ I step back from the door and extend an arm to welcome him inside. ‘Come in.’
He watches me for a beat before he drops his hand from the doorframe and shuffles in. He kicks his shoes off just inside the threshold, then continues the trek to the armchair in the corner. With a sigh, he crashes into it and drops his head back against the cushion. His knees are spread wide, elbows hanging over the armrests. The pose is open but exhausted, and I can’t help but imagine myself crawling between his legs, hands on his thighs . . .
Good god, girl. Get it together.
I stand in the small entryway for a second longer to compose myself before I turn and move to the bed. Perched on the corner closest to him, I tuck my hands under my legs and take him in.
‘You okay?’ I finally ask, even though the answer is obvious.
He closes his eyes, his lashes brushing his cheeks for a few seconds. Then he opens them again and fixes his attention on me. ‘I’ll be fine.’
In other words, he’s very muchnotokay. Not that he’d ever let those words leave his lips. Not the perpetually content Dev.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I press.
‘Not really.’
I nod, letting the silence hang between us. When I asked him to find me, it’s because I wanted to brainstorm a new strategy for getting teams other than Argonaut to notice him, but this clearly isn’t the time to bring that up. He’s in bad shape, waging an invisible battle that I’m not privy to. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.
Even if I’m not ready to bring up strategy or push him to open up, I don’t want him to go back to his own room and sulk alone. Sure, he could seek out Chava or Mark, but I doubt it; in all my experience with him, I’ve never seen this type of vulnerability. I’m lucky he even showed up here with his guard dropped. I want to make sure he stays.
I heave myself off the bed, startling him, I think. But his eyes lose some of their distance as he tracks me.
‘Let’s watch a movie,’ I declare, holding his gaze for a beat before marching over to grab the TV remote from the bedside table.
