Page 59 of Hyperspeed
I’d lasted two hours.
In the middle of the night, I’d woken up with a boner so solid it could have been used for structural support. It had its own heartbeat. Stars, I’m pretty sure it was trying to form a band and start a drum solo. All because my subconsciousdecided to stage a midnight rerun ofThe Locker Room Incident: A Tale of Two Dicks.
I’d compromised by rutting into my mattress like a teenager. Horny me figured if I didn’t use my hand, then I hadn’t violated the sacred terms of my no-touch treaty.
So tell me why, thirty minutes later, I was coming all over myself with a treacherous hand around my cock?
“Are we okay to continue?”
Shit. I blinked, and the fog of my mighty mistake cleared. I was back in a conference room, the bright lights and white walls feeling all too real after where my mind had gone. A journalist sat opposite me, separated by a wide wooden table.
Nina had locked in the interview at the start of the season—an exclusive with ThrottlePoint, the biggest name in motorsport media across the galaxy. I hadn’t jumped at the idea, but she’d insisted it was the perfect way to bring attention to the Iskari people. To bring us one step closer to official recognition.
From day one, I’d told the team that was my goal, and Tavoris didn’t hesitate. He’d promised they’d back me and then handed the reins to Nina to make it happen. If there was anyone you wanted in your corner for managing the press, it was her.
The journalist smiled, finger poised over her watch, ready to stop the recording if need be. I couldn’t even remember her name. Was it Loren? Lorna? Lola?
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Was in my own world for a minute.”
“No problem. I imagine you’ve had a bit of a busy season. It must be tiring, especially for a rookie.”
I bobbed my head, grabbing the pitcher of water from the centre of the table. I filled my glass with the ice-cold liquid and downed it in one go. Then I settled back in my seat, giving Lottie a look that said I was ready.
Plot twist: I wasn’t ready.
I shifted around in my seat, cringing with every loud creak it made. My posture felt unnatural, like I’d borrowed a body that didn’t fit, and I was hyperaware of my body language.
Was I sitting like a normal person? How didnormalpeople act? Was it weird to have my hands in my lap, or should I put them on the table? Was that sweat on my lip, or was it water? Was I breathing too loudly? Was I scowling like I usually did, or was it too aggressive?
The whole point of this was to talk about myself, but it was hard to talk about myself when I’d been nothing but a mystery for years. I’d spent most of my childhood trying not to be seen, blending into the background, praying no one looked closely enough to realise I didn’t quite fit.
That wasn’t the angle we were going for today.
“So,” the journalist started. “Can you tell me a bit about your upbringing?”
I blew out a breath, staring blankly at Lorelei. How did I answer this without sounding like a sob story or a statistic? Louise kept smiling, unaware that I was short-circuiting over how utterly unequipped I was for basic human interaction.
“Well, uh . . .” I cleared my throat. “I um, lived with my parents and my grandma.”
“Awesome,” Lois replied, smile broadening. “My grandma lived with my family when I was a kid too.”
I guessed we had something in common, at least.
“Yeah, it was pretty cramped.”
Her eyes lit up with interest. “What do you mean?”
“Well—”
Before I could continue, a knock sounded at the conference room door. Without waiting for either of us to respond, it opened, and in walked the bane of my life.
Kai strolled in like he’d arrived straight from a fashion shoot. Camo cargo pants slung low on his hips, spotless designer trainers, a light-wash denim jacket,and a black T-shirt stretched across his chest like it had something to prove. His hair was its usual tousled mess, like he’d just rolled out of bed and raked a hand through it. Maybe he had. The mirrored aviators covering his eyes gave him that extra layer of untouchable cool, and I hated how easily he pulled it off.
Hated it even more when my brain stalled as he looked in my direction, my flushed face staring back at me in the lenses’ reflections.
“Sorry,” he replied, not sorry at all if his usual grin was any sign. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Yes,” I snapped, at the same time Lorraine said, “No.”
