Page 7 of Green Flag
But not Nix.
He cleared his throat but didn’t move, other than his eyes glancing around the room. “Yeah. Makes sense.”
That discomfort meant I had to retreat. He wasn’t going to talk about him here in public. I couldn’t exactly blame him, but…
“Anyway, moving on from him,” I said with an exaggerated smile that was far more chipper than I felt and dropped the lotion back in my bag. I’d start again later. I’d get him alone.
“Have you?” Nix asked softly, brows down in sympathy. “He’s completely out of the picture, right? For both of us?”
I nodded. Pedro was trash now. He had to be. “Of course,” I said, even if somehow, after everything, I felt my stomach knot at those thoughts. “You haven’t heard from him, I assume?”
He placed his drink on the table this time. “Have nothing to say to him.”
But that confirmed my suspicions. Pedro was in contact with Nix. Nix just might not respond.
If Pedro was still watching Nix and threatening to come onto the grounds… he still had an issue with Ciclati, and he might help me.
“What are you doing later? I know you can’t drink before the race, but…”
It hadn’t exactly stopped him before. If I could supply him with enough alcohol, he might talk.
“I’ve got an Airbnb,” he said. “I’m staying there.”
“Well, would you come to the hotel for a cheeky drink with me?”
“A drink?” He blinked. “What would make this drink ‘cheeky’?”
His French accent thickened and I could see him racking his brain for what the word meant.
“I think it’s just British slang,” I laughed. “Like, a word for something you shouldn’t really do.”
“Everly,” he said, glancing over at the people by the bar. “If you’re talking about… I’m not…Putain, c’est mal. I’m not going to go on a date with you.”
Shit.
I hadn’t meant that. But of course that was what it sounded like. I’d meant ‘cheeky’ as in drinking before the race.
He sat up straight, both feet planted on the ground. “I have… I’m with someone.”
“With someone?” I asked. His last girlfriend had been photographed with him no less than a month ago, but Dad had said they broke up. “With who?”
“It’s complicated,” he mumbled. “God, Ever, I don’t — you’re like a little sister to me. There’s nothing… There wouldn’t be anything…” He looked around frantically as if to find the right words in the air. But he already had. We were like brother and sister. Estranged. “I’m in love.”
“You’re what?” I practically spat. “You?”
“Ever, I think you’re amazing, you know that. It’s just… we’re friends.”
“We’re friends,” I agreed enthusiastically. “But I really didn’t mean in the romantic sense, Nix. I just… I used to have friends here. Well, I used to have Pedro. And now…”
I have no one.
I couldn’t say it out loud.
Because it was painfully true. Not just on the track.
Nix’s smile was soft. “You have a friend, Everly.”
My eyes were not watering. I blinked down at my empty drink and offered to go and get us another before delving into his shenanigans across the season.
