Page 72 of Green Flag
At the top of the steps to Luca’s door, I turned my lips into a somewhat smile, as if I was grateful for my overbearing escort.
I knocked hard. Again. Then again.
“What do you want, Everly?” Luca’s muffled voice came from deep inside, but there was movement.
“By my knocking, I think it’s pretty obvious I want you to open the door.”
He grunted and when I worried he wouldn’t let me inside, I hissed through gritted teeth, “I would really appreciate you letting me inright now.”
When the door opened, his eyes looked heavy and his mouth was in a fine line, completely unapathetic.
But then he saw my chaperone.
His spine straightened and his eyes narrowed on the man as he moved before me.
“We okay here?” he asked gruffly, the threat clear.
The worker nodded and wandered off.
He turned and looked me over quickly before ushering me inside and closing the door behind us.
“Are you okay?” he asked, holding me at arm’s length. “Did he—”
“Nope,” I said before he could open that can of worms. “I just couldn’t find your trailer and he helped me.”
His brows narrowed for a second, and he gave me another once-over before releasing me and walking to his double bed.
The trailer was wider than I’d imagined. His set-up was all in his team colours. He was so bloody cute, lying back on his bed.
But a pang of concern pierced my chest. Did he spend most nights like this — all alone?
No, it was probably the opposite.
It was more likely that he spent no nights alone. With girls like Hollie, the beautiful blonde grid girl I knew he’d hooked up with.
That pang of concern grew to a lump in my throat.
His attention was on the TV; a fight in Istanbul, similar to the charity match he’d have in a couple of months.
Tyler Wells VS. Augustin Trint.
Luca had mentioned it the other day.
“Can we talk?” I asked, turning to face him.
His jaw ticked.
I shouldn’t have kissed him. He was such a proud man, and I shouldn’t have used him in that moment; I shouldn’t have stuck my tongue down his throat when that expressly went against the ‘we are friends’ motion.
“You didn’t come back,” I said, sitting on his bed. “You just left.”
His arms folded over his chest. “I did, yes.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t have to race.”
“I came by earlier, but you weren’t here.”
