Page 24 of Cross the Line
His Instagram grid, however, is empty. He must have taken everything down after Jani’s infamous post. That alone will save me hours. It means I won’t have to wade through thousands of likely wild or horrific comments. His DMs, on the other hand, are probably a circus.
Before tackling them, I navigate to his archive. Jani’s parting gift is there, like it was the night Dev showed me. So are hundreds of old posts. Since they’re not published, there’s no reason for me to scroll through them, and yet I find myself perusing one after another, pausing longer than I should on images of him grinning at the camera. His laughter is so infectious that a still photo has me fighting a giggle and a flutter in my chest.
There’s no way around it – Dev is hotter than hell, and the pictures of him shirtless in his driver room with sweat glistening on his aggressively defined abs aren’t helping me get a handle on this crush. Ishouldbe looking at his account through a professional lens. Ishouldbe considering how to incorporate elements of his old feed into something new and deciding on a creative direction for future posts. And Ishouldbe taking notes about how to make that all come together.
Instead, I’m fantasizing about running my fingers through the loose curls of his hair and pressing my lips to his stubbled jaw, then trailing lower and lower and—
I snap my laptop shut, plunging the room into darkness.
It’s the shock to the system I need. From here on out, those thoughts are banned. Forbidden. Verboten. I don’t need the complications of a crush, and I won’t let it interfere with what Dev hired me to do.
Besides, we agreed to move on after the incident last year. And we’re managing it fine so far.
As long as I stay away from tequila shots or anything else that has the potential to make me loose-lipped, it’ll be fine.
I have absolutely nothing to worry about.
——
Chantal is waiting for me when I step into our apartment on Wednesday afternoon, quick to help with my suitcases. Plural. I had to buy a second one after leaving Argonaut’s headquarters with my new team swag.
‘You better have brought a gift for me,’ she warns, shooting me a lopsided smile over her shoulder as she drags both bags into my bedroom.
I hike my overstuffed purse higher on my shoulder, shuffling behind her. ‘I made a special trip to a Starbucks in Monaco to pick up a mug, as requested.’
She makes a little sound of happiness as she leads me into my room, then plops onto my bed and watches me expectantly. I drop my purse beside the luggage and collapse on the floor, achy and exhausted after sleeping in hotel rooms for a week and so many flights. I’m desperate to sleep in my own bed for at least a couple of nights. Soon enough, it’ll be exclusively planes and hotel rooms for a while. Even the summer break won’t bring much of a reprieve since I’ll have to fly out to California for Alisha’s wedding. It’s going to be a lot for my body to handle.
‘So,’ Chantal prompts, pulling me out of my thoughts.
She looms over me as she lies on her stomach with her elbows planted on the mattress and her chin resting in her hands. ‘Tell me everything. Actually, wait.’ She rolls onto her side to pull her phone out of the pocket of her shorts. ‘Let me get Grace on FaceTime first. She’ll kill me if she doesn’t hear this too.’
‘It’s three a.m. in Hong Kong,’ I remind her, unzipping my first suitcase. If I don’t unpack and sort through my stuff now, it won’t get done, and I’ll be scrambling to get things washed and repacked when it’s time to join Dev on the road.
‘She said she didn’t care.’ Chantal waves it off, the familiar ringtone already echoing through my room. ‘You know our girl’s a night owl anyway.’
That she is. When I’m not wildly jet-lagged like I was this weekend, I’m a morning person. On more than one occasion, Grace and I have crossed paths at five a.m. when I’m getting up to head to the gym, and she’s about to go to bed. On those days, we sit together in the kitchen with steaming mugs – strong coffee for me and Sleepy Time tea for Grace. My heart tugs a little at the thought. I won’t see her or Chantal for the next couple of months.
Grace answers as if it’s not the middle of the night, demanding that Chantal turn the camera so she can see me.
‘Spill it, bitch,’ she commands, holding the phone close to her face. Her dark eyes are bright with the need for gossip. ‘And don’t forget a single detail.’
With the order given, I launch into a rundown of the past few hectic days, trying to keep it brief, even with the girls’ interjections. My dirty laundry has been sorted into colour-specific piles by the time I’ve caught them up, and Grace’s excitement is practically oozing through the phone.
‘You are literally the luckiest girl on the planet,’ she says, bouncing so violently her image shakes on the screen. ‘I wouldkillto go to those races, and you just get to waltz right in.’
‘Yeah, because I’mworking,’ I emphasize, reaching for the suitcase full of Argonaut gear. ‘And I’m going to have to wear this’ – I pull out a red-and-white striped polo embroidered with the names of the various sponsors, brandishing it for Chantal and the camera – ‘every day I’m there.’
Both girls grimace, Chantal going so far as to gag. ‘Okay, that is . . . not cute.’
‘Those colours have no business together unless they’re on a flag or a popsicle,’ Grace agrees. ‘But whatever. You’ll make it work. And Dev is going to think you’re hot as shit no matter what.’
I shoot a weak glare at the screen, but I do kind of hope Dev likes what he sees. Of course, nothing is going to happen between us. Still, there’s no harm in wanting him to think I’m attractive . . . right? ‘We’re not going there,’ I say instead.
Chantal turns the phone so she and Grace can share a pointed look before shifting it back to me.
‘Guess you shouldn’t have told us all about your drunken confession and the kiss last year if you didn’t want us shipping you together,’ Grace says breezily. ‘Because from where I’m sitting, you two are kind of the perfect pair.’
‘Stop it,’ I scold, tossing the polo into the suitcase again. I would agree, except there are too many obstacles standing in the way of Dev and me. My brother, for one. And really, I don’t even know if Dev wouldwantto be more than friends. Let’s not forget the newest roadblock either: Dev officially becoming my boss. ‘I plan to keep things professional.’
