Klaus picks up a small spoon and stirs his coffee again, despite not having put anything more into it.Definitely nervous.
“You’ve not asked Phaedra?” he returns with studied lightness. “Your best friend?”
My stomach drops at the knowing tilt to his mouth. When he lifts his eyes to meet mine, he’s back in control, and I think we both feel it.
“I, uh…” Trailing off, I prod my petit four.
“Don’t think I’ve not noticed a coolness between you two this week.”
I remain silent, jabbing the pastry with a scowl.How do I both hate and love the fact that Klaus can see right through me?
“Do you prefer we not discuss it?” he prompts. Watching me with his inky eyes narrowed, he takes a sip of coffee. “Perhaps webothhave off-limits topics.”
I give him a bland look and a conspicuous beat of silence. “Okay, tit for tat: You want to know about Phae and me. I want to know if there’s a link between Basilisk and your technical director.”
“Is this friendship a series of negotiations?”
“Don’t kid yourself—every relationship is.”
“Yet information is not typically the currency.” He cuts a bite of tart and chews thoughtfully.
“Maybe you just don’t trust me.”
“Should I? Come now, kleine Hexe… those lovely blue eyes are not a master key to gain you entrance to any room you fancy.”
It’s a reach, my asking—obviously he shouldn’t tell me anything that might hurt Emerald. Still, I feel sulky. And part of medoeswant to talk about Phae, preferably with someone who knows her as well as I do.
“Friends can outgrow each other,” I state simply. “Phae is a bossy know-it-all. Sobelittling.” I don’t intend for the next part of my confession to slip out, but it leaps the fence. “I’ve spent my life fighting to prove myself. I can’t waste energy on it in a friendship. Phae’s brilliant, but I won’t be an unequal partner in any relationship. Whenever she starts to lose an argument, she makes it personal and defaults to name-calling. It’s immature. And I deserve better.”
Anger rises from some hidden and neglected place in me as I recall cruel taunts and nicknames I heard in childhood. The words tumble out.
“She makes me feelsmall,” I rage on. “Like she thinks being friends with me is charity. It reminds me of all those years getting hand-me-downs from my aunt’s church—clothes, toys, donated school supplies. And I’m not trying to play some ‘Boo-hoo, I grew up poor’ card here. I’m incredibly proud of my aunt and the stable childhood she gave me. I’m just tired of not feeling worthy.”
Klaus’s face is serious. “Talia, no one could fail to see your worth. You’re a talented journalist. I saw your latest episode ofARJ Buzzon YouTube. You’re… making quite the impression.”
“Well, thank you.”
“Knowledgeable, erudite.” There’s a long pause. Somethingunreadable crosses his face. “Though I—” He seems to weigh his next words, then shakes his head.
“Though youwhat?”
He gives his fork a careless wave. “Just one of the comments you closed with. It made Emerald look a bit foolish, wouldn’t you agree?”
I dab my lips primly with a napkin. “Huh. Well, I feel a little ambushed now. Is this why you invited me for coffee? To scold me?”
“Certainly not. I hadn’t planned to bring it up at all.”
“I don’t tell you how to run a racing team, so you shouldn’t tell me how to report racing news.”
“Isthe YouTube show news, or is it gossip?” His tone is deceptively mild.
I set my fork down with a clink. “One point, and then—if you want to be friends—we’re done talking about this.Gossip is part of sporting news.What people are talking about is relevant.”
“Thank you for that insight,” he replies. I’m not sure if it’s sarcastic.
“ARJ Buzzisn’t just ‘gossip.’ In the last episode, I also did a comparative analysis on the beam wings on each team’s car, how they impact aerodynamic balance and cornering stability. I’m hardly going”—I wave my arms around and adopt a Valley Girl accent—“‘Like, ohmigawwwd… did Owen Byrne from Team Easton dump reality TV empire heiress Brooklyn Katz for Taylor Swift?’”
The rumble of Klaus’s laughter is contagious, and my irritation cools slightly.
