Page 51 of Broken Breath
Willhe notice?
At least shaved legs are normal in this sport, aerodynamics and all.
“I want to apologize,PetitCrews.”
Ah. He’s still scared.
I tilt my head. “I’m not going to rat you out.”
He blinks. “You’re not?”
“I’m not,” I repeat, holding his gaze. “I’ll beat you on the track. Not like that.”
“Okay.” His mouth curls into that signature grin, the one that says he gets away witheverything. “That’s… nice of you.”
“Yeah.” I hold myself tighter against my ribs. “So go grovel to Payne. He’s the one with more reason to get your ass kicked off the circuit.”
Luc waves that off with a flick of his fingers. “Oh, I don’t worry about him.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Why not?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “He never says anything.”
The words hang there, barely a shrug of a sentence, and I don’t knowwhy, but that bothers me. Maybe because it’s true or because Luc is used to winning battles people don’t bother fighting, or maybe it’s because I see that even when Masonshouldsay something, he doesn’t.
“You do that often?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Luc raises an eyebrow. “Do what?”
“Start fights like that.”
He shrugs again, dismissing the question. “Anyway…” his voice lowers just a little, “… I’m here to tell you I’m sorry, even though you’re not ratting me out. Pushing you down the track was shitty of me.”
“Sure.” I reach for the lever again, ready to shut the door and be done with this, but Luc pushes the folding panels open before they can close and steps inside like it’s his goddamn living room.
I step back, scowling at him. “Can I help you?”
He glances around the bus, then back at me with that stupid grin still on his face. “Can I come in?”
I level him with a look. “I don’t know how it is in France, but normally you askbeforeyou’re already inside.”
He smirks. “Oh, I do. I’ve got numbers you could call to verify.”
It takes me a second.
“Ugh.”
“PetitCrews.” Luc chuckles, full of himself and full of shit. “You aresonot fun.”
“Iamfun,” I shoot back instantly, a little too defensively even to my ears.
He strolls past me like he owns the damn bus and flops down on the bench at the small table, legs sprawling, arms stretching out as if he’s marking territory.
“No, you’re not.”
I fold my arms. “I’m fun with people who don’t make me want to throw them off a cliff.”
Luc grins, infuriatingly unbothered. “Ah, so it’s ayouproblem.”
