Page 92 of Hyperspeed
That was two weeks ago, and now the award I’d tucked away stared down from the shelf in the living room, more accusation than accolade. It should have made me proud, but it reminded me of my vanishing act. It made me feel like a twat, because I hadn’t even messaged him, too scared to reach out and apologise.
What if he acted like the night had meant nothing, like my leaving had saved him the trouble of kicking me out in the morning?
So instead of doing the right thing, I stayed silent.
But I hadn’t heard from Kai either, and I couldn’t tell if it hurt or not, which made me feel like a bigger twat. I had no right to feel hurt, because I was the one who’d left.
Except it only made me spiral more, convinced I was just another notch on his bedpost, a story to brag about over a beer.
Did getting blown by an endangered species earn some serious lad points?
Today’s race loomed, and I was terrified of bumping into Kai. If I saw him, I’d either act like a bumbling idiot or go full postal and sprint in the opposite direction.
There was no in-between.
Avoiding him had been easy so far. I’d holed up in the garage or ducked around corners whenever I heard his voice. Zylo called me jumpy, but I passed it off as nerves, which wasn’t too much of a stretch.
Starfall Traverse was a new experience, and like Horizon Rings, an anti-gravity track. I was thankful there were only two, because I much preferred the feel of tyres gripping the ground over flying blind through open air.
The track wove through a giant asteroid belt, with massive rocks that exploded on impact, constant meteor showers to dodge, and rogue comets threatening to destroy your thrusters. It needed perfect timing and sharp precision.
Considering the risks I took, they weren’t my strengths, and I wasn’t feeling confident.
This, combined with my Kai-induced anxiety, meant I was heading into the race on edge.
Practice was rough, my times slow and shaky, and qualifying hadn’t been much better. So now I was starting on the back foot in twelfth on the grid, my worst starting position all season.
“You’ll be fine, Revvy,” Zylo said as we walked from the shuttle park.
Just like Horizon Rings, the paddock was on a levitating platform a short distance from the track, while a few grandstands hovered a safe distance away.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
He laid a hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze.
“In my rookie season, I qualified dirt last for this track. Ended up finishing the same way on race day.” He stared at the mass of floating rocks in the distance. “Took me a few seasons to get my head around it.”
I scoffed. “Like I believe that. You’re good at everything.”
“Greatness takes time, kid.” He laughed, ruffling my hair. The small bun at the back of my head came loose, so I slapped his hand away with a small smile. “Besides, you’re doing pretty well for yourself, mister standout performance.”
The reminder of my award, the one that made me think of Kai, wiped the faint smile I’d mustered right off my face.
Since he had the eyes of a hawk, Zylo noticed.
“It’s okay, Rev,” he reassured me, oblivious to the true source of my anxiety. “It doesn’t matter whether you finish first or last. You deserve that award more than anyone else in the paddock.”
Zylo was always full of compliments, but this one hit differently.
I’d tried to keep everyone at arm’s length, but Zylo had slipped through my defences. He didn’t let my general standoffishness faze him. Instead, it only encouraged him to try harder, to act like a mentor, even if I never let it show just how grateful I was for his attention.
He was always so open with me, and something made me want to return the favour.
Maybe Kai was rubbing off on me more than I’d thought.
Could the ability to be more open, more honest, spread through sex? Like some bizarre sexually transmitted disease?
“Zylo.” I stopped walking and stared at his chest, not ready to look at his face.
