Page 49 of Red Flag
And they did. Only for us to reveal nothing but juvenile virginity stories and our most awful dates. Though revealing, I steered any conversation about the job in the other direction.
Even at the pit box before the race, I was avoiding any topic to do with Nixon. Especially avoiding him.
I found myself dancing aroundCris, wanting to ask about my contract but knowing it wasn’t the time. I kept my head down, tapping mindlessly on the tablet.
When the riders left for the grid, I breathed a sigh of relief. For at least half an hour, I would not have to be cursed with his presence.
Standing behindCris’ chair, I watched the commentary as the riders readied themselves. The grid girls held umbrellas to protect them from the sun’s rays before they put on their helmets.
An aerial shot showed them all mounted on their bikes,sipping last-minute energy drinks. And Nix looked serious in pole position, place number one, ready to win like he had for the last seven years.
The camera panned out toLuca, who had missed this race last year due to an injury but had watched his friends inSprint3earlier with absolute glee.
But then, as the camera turned, I saw something that had me clutchingCris’ chair in front of me.
Nix had his arm around the umbrella holder next to him and reached up to kiss her.
At this angle, it was clear she returned the kiss, bending down.
It wasnot clearwho she was.
But I knew.
Cris knew.
That was not Clara. She was discussing her brand deal.
“No!” I shouted. “Oh my fucking god, what is hisproblem!”
It was to spite me. A thousand per cent.
He couldn’t go to a party and instead decided to ruin what we had worked on for the last month.
His reputation would be back to square one. No, worse.
Cristurned to give me a sad smile. “Let’s see what happens.”
And precisely nothing happened. It had been a last-minute change from Clara toArabellastanding in, so maybe no one had caught on. They had the same long, dark hair.
That didn’t mean cameras wouldn’t have caught it and as much as everyone on the planet could tell the difference between the two girls, maybe the press wouldn’t notice.
For the whole of the race, I refreshed all social media. I checked the hashtags:StormSprint, Clara’s name,Arabella’sname, his name.
Nothing.
You’d think it would make me happy. It just made my toes tap against my slides, and the sinking feeling lower in my stomach.
I didn’t care when he won or when he was covered in champagne. I didn’t give a shit when he subtly mentioned Clara during his interview because, if anything, that could damage us more.
All I could hear was ringing in my ears. All I could see was red.
Until he walked back into the pit box.
Chapter 13
Nix had a grin on his face, his helmet under his arm and leathers unzipped an inch.
I didn’t care for how he radiated when he was happy. I cared that he had fucked up all of our hard work.
