Page 12 of Crash Course Omega
Because racing up behind me is a bright orange moped, two guys in white helmets riding it. One steers, shouting my name as he gets closer, and the guy on the back is already snapping pictures with his camera.
“Harmony! Wait up! We just want to ask you a few questions!”
I really wish I could just get a moment's peace. How did they even find me when I didn’t tell anyone I was coming out? I hadn't even told my staff I was leaving.
They must have staked out the hotel and followed me around outside of the track.
I pick up speed, but there is no way I can outrun a moped.
Suddenly, they are right next to me. He sticks the camera straight in my face, driving at the same speed I’m running, and shouting so many questions so loudly that I growl.
“Harmony! Where are you going? Come on, just stop for us and answer a few questions! We just want to have a nice chat!”
But that’s what they all say.
Getting angry is the worst way to deal with the press. I’m so tempted to shove them, but then the story will be that I'd attacked them.
I need to escape, and the only place I can see is the team garages coming up on my right-hand side. So, I take a chance and run for it.
After every race, each team will pack up the entire operation and move it to the next location and country in time for the practice races on Friday. And that includes the entire garage where the cars are built and maintained, which is open on both sides. Deliveries come on one side, and pit stops on the other.
Which means I can throw myself into a garage from the delivery side and get back onto the track.
Heart pumping from the run, tension squeezes my chest as I focus on where I’m going instead of the nonstop questions and demands.
I nearly cry out in relief as the green and white of the Grace team comes into view. They’re in the middle of the long line of ten garages, one for each team.
I reach the garage, sprinting halfway across the wide opening, making it seem like I’m going to run on.
But the second we reach the center, I dart left into the garage, and the moped sails on.
All I need is somewhere to hide in the brightly lit space.
It’s weird seeing a garage so empty. Normally they’re full to the brim with people, but there’s only one man leaning over the chassis of a half-built car.
I bolt forward, heading straight toward him.
The moped engine whines as they turn. They’re going to be on me soon, so I dart around the car, throwing myself between its body and the man's.
“Hide me!” I gasp, dropping to the floor. The car is raised off of the ground, but there’s a solid stand underneath, enough to keep me hidden from the back door of the garage.
I tuck myself in against the car, glancing over my shoulder, hoping I can’t see them, even though the moped engine is echoing inside the garage as they pull in.
“Excuse me.” The man's low voice cuts over the sound, and a bolt of fear shoots straight through me. “What are you doing?”
I tilt my head, looking up at him, about to reply, but his gaze is fixed on the door of the garage.
“Harmony! We know you’re in here. Stop running away from us,” one of the reporters shouts.
They don’t even answer his question; they just keep yelling my name.
I look up, and my breath catches at the large alpha above me. He glances down, though he looks at the car rather than me.
At this angle, I can only see his tanned skin and his black hair.
He sighs as he pulls a phone from his khaki shorts. He wears a polo shirt with the Grace's team’s logo, along with the logos of all the sponsors.
“What are you doing?” one of the reporters asks.
