Page 59 of Falling Fast
‘OK.’ I grin because I want to play too, only I don’t havea disguise ready. Not unless … I reach behind me and pull my hair out of its band, then shake my head so that it falls around my shoulders. I almost never wear it down, even in bed, so this should make me look different enough. Leif obviously thinks so because he’s staring like he doesn’t recognize me at all.
‘What’s a popular girl’s name in Norway?’ I ask.
‘Ingrid.’ His gaze roams over my hair. ‘It means beautiful.’
‘Then I like it.’ I get my phone out again and pull up a map. ‘I’ve been looking up things to see. Did you know Montreal has the largest underground city in the world? It’s so that people can still shop and visit restaurants in bad weather. There are even stations down there, so we could take the RESO to the old port.’
‘Sounds great.’ He raises a hand, gently stroking the hair now hanging by my face. ‘What time is your flight in the morning?’
‘I need to be at the airport by seven.’ I tip my head into his hand. ‘I’m already packed so Maisie’s bringing my bag.’
‘So we have all night?’
‘We do.’ I smile because I already know his flight is at 8 a.m. ‘Unless you’re too tired?’
‘I’ll sleep on the way home. First, Axel and Ingrid have some sightseeing to do. After that, there’s a boat waiting for us in the harbour. I thought you might like a dinner cruise.’
‘What about being recognized?’
‘Not a problem. I rented the whole boat.’ He rubs his thumb across my chin. ‘There are a few perks to being a racing driver.’
‘Come on then, Axel.’ I slip an arm around his waist, pulling him forward because a guy a few metres away is looking at us a little too intently for comfort. ‘Let’s go.’
Rask’s inexorable rise up the Constructors’ table has other teams and a few bookies worried. Who would have thought at the start of the season that they would be fighting Chiltern and Gold Dart for third place? Philip Sawyer must be regretting his life choices.
@MotorsportEchoNews, 21 July
NINETEEN
I REST MY CHIN on my hand and gaze lovingly at the miniature moose figurine on my desk. Leif bought it for me in Montreal, in a shop 20 metres below ground, after I bought him an arctic fox souvenir. His ‘n’ hers figurines, definitely not something I thought I’d ever be interested in, and yet each time I look at it, a warm glow fills my chest and spreads through my body. It’s been a week and the effect is still pretty powerful …
‘Ava?’
‘Mmm?’ I look up to find Emika standing in front of my desk with a concerned expression. ‘Sorry. Did you say something?’
‘Yes. Your name. Three times.’ She folds her arms. ‘Why are you smiling like that?’
‘Like what?’ I check my computer screen to hide my expression. ‘This is how I smile.’
‘No, it’s not. You look all … dreamy.’
‘Maybe I’m just pleased with our follower numbers.’ I feign innocence. ‘And the report from Merchandising this morning. Our sales have quadrupled in the past month.’
‘Uh-huh.’ She looks doubtful. ‘Anyway, Vienna needs you.’
‘Now? I thought she was busy with the photoshoot?’
‘She is, but there’s some kind of problem.’
‘OK.’ I grab my phone, glad to get away. That was close. I’m making my feelings far too obvious, but hiding them is harder than I expected. Luckily, most people are too preoccupied to notice. With three Grands Prix this month, we’ve been so busy I actually considered skipping my own graduation last week, but Vienna insisted I go.
Today’s photoshoot is for another new sponsor, a bespoke men’s tailoring company, because now our racing fortunes are on the rise, we seem to be on a roll. It’s good news for the team, if mildly inconvenient when the sponsor asks to use the factory as a backdrop for their photoshoot concept.
I open the factory door and slip inside. Usually, it’s dazzlingly bright in here, but right now it’s like stepping into a cave, one where Frank Sinatra is playing in the background. The main lights are off, but there are two huge spotlights on the floor directed at one of the racing cars in the centre of the room. Leif and Corey are standing on either side wearing … Oh my. I feel the hairs rise on the nape of my neck.
Both of them are dressed in three-piece, single-breasted suits, Corey in navy with a matching tie, Leif in a pale grey tweed with a powder-blue tie. While Corey’s jacket is fastened, so that his hands hang loosely at his sides, Leif’s is open, revealing a matching waistcoat as he poses with a hand in one pocket. I don’t know much about men’s tailoring, but I know this is how suits aresupposedto fit. They must have been made to measure because there isn’t a dimple or crease in sight. Everything is seamless and sartorial and … hot.
I take a couple of seconds to cool down. Since Canada, Leif and I have stolen a few moments together in his ‘office’, but mostly we’ve kept things professional and only seen each other outside of work. It’s going well, better than I expected. I feel like I’m living in some kind of parallel universe, one where I’m a person without any issues or hang-ups, doing completely normal things, like hanging out with her new boyfriend, enjoying his company, swimming in his pool, sweating in his sauna, approving (or not) his furniture purchases and constantly thinking about sex.
