Page 106 of Twisted Trails
We both laugh as we grab the water bottles he brought and head outside. The morning sun is crisp as we walk across the lot toward the chaos that is Luc’s pit.
The pink tent is halfway up, and the crew is wrestling with one of the vinyl banners while Luc stands dead center, holding a corner of it, his expression locked somewhere between majestic disdain and first-world agony.
I snort. “Why does he look like a toddler in time-out?”
“Because he is.” Mason chuckles as we both drop onto the low metal railing across from the pit. The warm steel presses into my shorts as I take a sip of the water then set the bottle down on the ground in front of me.
Luc’s entire face lights up like someone flipped a switch when he spots us. He abandons the vinyl, throwing both arms into the air to wave at us, like the toddler in question.
We’re both laughing at how adorable he looks, and I glance at Mason to see his ears turning a little red.
“Fuck,” Mason says through another chuckle.
He looks so happy. I’ve never seen him like this, and it hits me hard, because yeah, I have the same problem.
“I have no idea what he’s doing to me,” he says quietly. “I think about him all the time.” He glances my way. “Is it just me, or…”
“No, it’s not just you. I’m probably thinking about that boy more than he thinks in general.”
But heshares that space in my head with you and Finn.
Mason throws his head back and laughs loud and hard.
He looks fucking adorable when he laughs.
Yeah, I’m so fucked.
Luc seems to have heard him, too, because he glances over, still grinning like sunshine, and gives me a little nod of approval.
I grin back at him, everything in me feeling lighter.
But then a shadow falls over us as a guy steps right in front of the sun, phone already up like we’re on stage, and he’s filming a goddamn documentary.
“Allen Crews!”
The UCIsocial media guy.Of course it is.
Fuck.
His eyes flick to Mason but don’t linger, like he’s not important.Fucker.“We were all wondering if you’re coming back for the race.”
“Yeah,” I say flatly, already annoyed. “I’m back.”
“Perfect.” He grins wider, still filming. “Can you tell us a bit about what happened and how you’re planning to come back to this race?”
I glance at Mason, who shrugs likeit’s your call.
“I’m going to race as usual.”
The guy laughs like I told a joke, then lowers the phone, stopping the recording. “No, my guy. I know you’re a privateer, so you’re not media trained, but we can’t go with that.”
“We can’t?”
“No.” He clucks his tongue. “DH lives off the fans. Fans live on social media. We gotta hype this up. You crashing like that while being so high in rank, and now coming back? It’s astory, and we need it.”
“It’s not a story. It’s my life,” I bite out, the good mood from earlier cracking even more at the edges.
“Exactly,” he says, like I’m agreeing with him. “The story of your life.”
