“I won’t tell anyone. But I don’t understand why you cover up for him.” A wave of nausea hits me as I consider how people act around his dad, idolizing him as a racing legend. Fans call Noah the American Prince. One stuck wearing a crown heavy from deceit and expectations. No matter how much Noah dislikes his dad, he lives in his legacy.
“Who would believe me? He’s a racing icon and a big sponsor for this team. People see what they want to see anyway.” His head faces up to the ceiling. Liquid from the ice pack drips onto his race suit, running down the red fabric like tears. How symbolic.
“I don’t know. Anyone. There’s always someone filming something. Cameras catch everything nowadays.”
I recognize how I saw Noah how I wanted, believing the show he puts on for everyone. Smug, overconfident, rebellious. My chest tightens at my quick judgment.
“Please leave it alone.” His voice has a sense of finality to it. I drop that part of the conversation because I don’t want to push him too far when he opens up to me.
I choose to address the second issue because I can’t help myself. “Is it true what he said? About your steering wheel?”
He lets out another deep sigh. “Don’t trust everything you hear. My dad gets pissy when I don’t place first. My steering wheel was loose, no matter what people say.” Words leave through gritted teeth.
“But you were in the lead for like forty laps. Defensiveness is your thing.”
“Maya.” His gravelly voice captures my attention, making me look up into his intense blue eyes. My name rolls off his tongue, hitting me in the heart and below the belt at once. “Drop it. Forget what he said. Your brother won the Spanish Grand Prix fair and square. You should be happy for him instead of thinking up conspiracy theories.”
His eyes dart to the side as he avoids my gaze for a second too long.
Holy shit. Noah totally threw the race. Why would he lose?
We sit together in silence. I attempt to work through these new revelations, getting lost in my own world, not noticing how he gets up and sits next to me.
He clasps my hand in his, ice pack long forgotten. My pulse quickens at the contact. I tell myself it must be because his hand is freezing from the ice, the cool touch jolting my body. It has nothing to do with our connection. Right?
I try to pull my hand away, but he holds on, his calloused fingers brushing against mine. My skin tingles where his thumb lazily rubs against my hand.
“Listen. Let’s forget what my dad said. No need to give attention to a piece of shit who gets mad when I don’t place first. He’s irrelevant and barely shows up anymore, that is unless it’s convenient for him and his bank account.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” I barely pay attention to what he says. My eyes stay pinned on his tan hand engulfing my small one, his thick thumb brushing against my bony knuckle in a mindless pattern.
The room warms as tension thickens, choking me as it wraps around my head and my heart. His silent confession about the race feels like too much between us. I don’t want to share secrets together, opening myself up even more to him, a point we can’t turn back from.
But he doesn’t need to admit anything to me. He threw his chance at winning today, from a quick gaze and a bob of his Adam’s apple. Label it a sixth sense for bullshit.
Relief fills me when his hand stops caressing mine. I finally breathe easier, gaining the mental clarity to tug my hand away.
“I better get going. I’m going to dinner with my family before the after-party. Maybe we will see you there.”
I lean over him and give him a kiss on his non-red cheek. His breath catches at the touch while my lips tingle at the contact, lingering a second too long.
I bounce out of my seat and reach for the door handle before he can react.
He remains sitting on the couch, unphased, except for a tiny lift at the corner of his mouth. If I didn’t know him then I would have missed it. But we’ve spent two months together, and I’ve been learning his ticks, the tells he gives when no one watches him.
“See you later. Thanks…for coming over. And the ice pack.” He repeats the same jiggle I did earlier. I laugh at his ridiculousness, blue eyes lighting up when they land on me.
“No problem.” I don’t bother looking over my shoulder as I softly shut the door.
Noah doesn’t show up to the main after-party. I hate to admit it feels off without him there, missing how he entertains me while Santi and Sophie are busy.
During the party, it hits me how much trouble I’m in. A cardinal sin has been broken.