Maya pretends to gag. “You heard it here first, everyone. I am not dating either one of these guys. We’re all friends.” She nods enthusiastically. Liam stays silent, winking at the camera and tapping his fingers on his thigh.
Do they hang out this much? How did I miss this?
I pull up Liam’s Instagram profile. His most recent images are of him and Jax, or the four of them out touring whatever city the Prix is in. Plus, a few hard-to-miss posts of him and Sophie.
When did he clean up his act?
Jax’s profile looks similar. He has a picture of him and Maya in a photo booth from a gala event. I recognize the background because I was there too, yet I don’t remember seeing Maya there.
Where did they even find the time for all of this shit? But more importantly, could I make time for something besides racing?
I land myself on the Singapore podium. Second place. Woo-fucking-hoo.
This time the champagne showers don’t feel as fun. The crowd roars but I ignore them, my eyes landing on Maya standing behind a barrier as she cheers Santi on. My eyes stay glued to her for minutes. Her grin falters when she catches me looking at her, but she regains her composure. Jax and I end up spraying champagne on Santi since he impressively won the whole thing. This Prix is a challenge. Humidity is disgustingly high, making it hard for us to race with our heads fully in it. I think I lost at least five pounds after racing today. Not joking, sweat still drips down my back, clinging to my race suit.
Attendants escort us to the press conference after we all have a weight check, an ice bucket bath, and a quick shower. The idea of answering more questions fills me with dread because I’m not in the mood for reporters.
It stuns me to find Maya in her usual corner of the press conference. She gives me a tight smile before Sophie whispers something in her ear, her throat dipping back as she lets out a laugh. Carefree and so damn beautiful. I lick my lips at the sight of her, the hollow part of her neck easily becoming one of my favorite places—to kiss, to touch, to nip.
I’m thankful for the table in front of me because I don’t need that problem on camera today.
Since press conferences can be boring as fuck, I run through my plan for tonight. I can’t skip out on the Singapore after-party Maya mentioned. She glances at me, making my lips tip up into a naughty smile, the first one I’ve given her in a while.
Her eyes widen.
If only she knew what was coming. I’m done playing games; I’m getting my checkered flag.
I pull out the big guns for this. And by big guns, I mean Sophie because she’s the equivalent of a grenade launcher and semi-automatic rifle combined. Without her on my side, the plan is hopeless.
I text her after the press conference to please meet me in my hotel room. She grumbles about it until I text her with praying hands and a promise for chocolate-chip cookies. Girl hasn’t changed in all the years I’ve known her.
“What do you want, Slade?” Her icy glare could make a normal man cry, but instead, I grin. How formal of her to use my last name.
I make myself comfortable on the couch since Sophie refuses to sit. She stands in a power pose, ready to take me on, hands on her hips. An intimidation stance that barely reaches past my head.
“I’m coming to you for help because I really need it. And trust me, I do.”
Sophie blows a bubble with her gum before popping it, the sound breaking the tension in the room. She looks like a Barbie version of a mob boss.
“How can I help you? I don’t even know what you want.” She likes to play dumb, batting her eyelashes at me.
“I think you do.” Let’s cut the bullshit.
“I want to hear you say it. The first step in fixing a problem is admitting you have one in the first place.”
Yup. This is why Liam can’t help being around her. She gives him a run for his money, all sassy and shit.
I suppress a groan and tug at my hair. “I like Maya.”
Her blank gaze gives nothing away. She blinks a couple of times, waiting for me to continue.
“And I messed up. I thought I knew what I wanted. But in reality, I didn’t.”
“Tell me more.” She sits down, her pose looking like my therapist.
“I took her out on a date. I’m sure you’re aware of that.” She nods. “And it didn’t exactly end well. I told her I could only offer physical stuff. No attachments or frills, and she wanted more.”
“No duh. And what do you want now?” Her gaze reminds me of her dad, staring into me like she can sense my sincerity.
I look away from her intense scrutiny. “I think I want more.”