Page 60 of Cross the Line
Thirty minutes later, I’m standing outside Dev’s apartment door, my sweaty hand poised to knock, with Grace at my side. Before my fist can hit the solid wood surface – and before Grace can nag me again to hurry up – it swings open with a rush of air. And then there he is, hitting me with the full force of his smile.
‘I’m so fucking glad you’re here,’ Dev says, grateful brown eyes locking on me.
I think my response is intelligible, but my brain is short-circuiting at the sight of him.
Grace bumps me out of the way and stretches her hand out to him. ‘I’m Grace.’ She’s practically buzzing. ‘It’s nice tofinallymeet you.’
I swear Dev’s smile changes just a fraction as he focuses on Grace. It doesn’t fade or shrink, and it doesn’t come anywhere close to disappearing, but it’s . . . different. It’s the one meant for his friends and his colleagues and his family. It’s different from the one when he’s focused on me.
I’m too busy dwelling on what that means to attend to their conversation until we’re inside the apartment and Grace announces, ‘Willow’s been lost without you these past few days.’
I whip my head around to her, horrified. I’m trying to splutter a denial out when she follows up the statement with, ‘Seriously, girl’s a workaholic. She doesn’t know how to relax.’
The clarification pacifies me a little, but it doesn’t stop my cheeks from flaming. ‘Yeah,’ I laugh, the sound choked. ‘I’ve been working on a few things. I couldn’t help it.’
‘See? Doesn’t know how to take a break to save her life,’ Grace goes on. She’s quickly distracted by the race simulator set up in the corner of the living room. ‘Ooh, Ihaveto try that.’
As she scurries over and climbs into the low seat, I turn to Dev, offering an apologetic grimace. ‘I’m sorry for her. She has no filter.’
Dev chuckles, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans. ‘Don’t apologize.’ He’s looking my way, but his focus is fixed on something over my shoulder. ‘I appreciate her honesty.’
I can read between the lines on that. He and I certainly aren’t being honest with each other these days. We’re still dancing around the elephant in the room, watching it grow by the minute. Before long, we’re either going to have to own up to how we feel or let it crush us under its giant feet.
‘Plus, I don’t want you burning out.’ He finally looks at me, a hint of worry in his eyes. ‘I feel bad about calling you on your day off.’
I shake my head, but I do appreciate his concern. ‘It’s fine. I’m happy to be here.’
That’s the truth. A few days apart has left me missing him more than I thought possible. I’ve tried to push thoughts of him aside and enjoy my time with Grace, but it’s been difficult. So much of my life revolves around him right now. It’s kind of hardnotto think about him when my camera roll is filled with photos of him, when this city is full of Formula 1-related media and merchandise, and when all I want is to curl up in bed beside him again and giggle over a cheesy Bollywood movie. It’s got me feeling like a silly teenager all over again.
Taking a quick breath to centre myself, I nod toward where his laptop is sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch. ‘You ready to do this?’
The cheeky grin is back, the one that’s just for me. ‘You ready to make sure I don’t say anything that’ll make my reputation worse?’
I blow out a breath. ‘Let’s see what we can do.’
——
By the time the interview is finished two hours later, Grace has crashed on the racing simulator about sixty times, and I’ve nearly cried off all my make-up from laughing at Dev’s out-of-pocket – but never offensive, cruel or incriminating – answers. Dev, of course, has managed to charm the hell out of yet another group of people.
His quick banter and quips with the Australian hosts made the hours feel like minutes, keeping me so entertained that I almost forgot I was there to prevent him from saying anything he shouldn’t. Turns out, he didn’t need me at all. The man has had enough media training and has done enough interviews to know what he should and shouldn’t do. I was essentially a spectator. Not that I minded; it only proved that my crush isn’t misplaced. Dev is more than worthy of any and all adoration.
‘Well, that wasn’t as much of a shit show as I thought it would be,’ he announces after closing his laptop. With his arms raised in a stretch, he drops back against the couch cushions.
It’s a challenge to keep myself from inspecting the expanse of skin revealed between the top of his jeans and the hem of his black T-shirt or the lines of his biceps straining against the sleeves. God, he’s gorgeous. And, thankfully, seemingly unaware of my attention.
Unfortunately, Grace notices me noticing Dev, and her wicked expression tells me we’re absolutely going to have a conversation about this once we’re out of here.
‘You did so well,’ I say to him, ignoring Grace as I tuck my notebook and phone back into my purse. I snapped a few pictures of him that I’ve already posted, and I’ve made notes of some of his responses so I can pull clips from the podcast once it’s live. ‘They’ll probably have to edit out my cackles in the background. But that just proves people are going to love it.’
Dev grins back at me, eyes following my every move as I stand and smooth my sundress around my hips. ‘As long as I made you laugh,’ he says, slowly dropping his arms back down. ‘That’s all that matters.’
Grace makes a faint choking sound from across the room, but I refuse to look in her direction.
Dev either doesn’t notice or is choosing to ignore her, too. Though judging from the way he’s staring up at me like I’m the only other person in the room, I’m putting my money on the former.
It’s thrilling and unnerving and has me quickly gathering my things and inventing a fake lunch reservation that Grace and I are in danger of being late to. If I don’t make my escape now, I’m bound to do something silly like crawl into his lap, wrap my arms around his neck and gush about how great he is. His ego doesn’t need that, and I certainly don’t need to encourage the butterflies flitting through my stomach, so I grab Grace by the elbow and wave goodbye before tugging her out of Dev’s apartment.
We make it into the dreaded elevator before she steps in front of me, hands on her hips. ‘Girl,’ she says. And then again, more emphatically. ‘Girl.’
