“Naw, I missed the banter with you, Eleven.” Raine mocks. “I’ll see you all on the podium today. Second and third place will look good on you.” He turns to leave but pauses to look at Finn. “Or maybe fifth.”
“Motherfucker,” I mutter under my breath as he walks off.
Luc nods solemnly. “Enculé, indeed.”
As soon as Raine is out of sight, I try to pull myself back into focus, to breathe, visualize, and get my fucking head in the game, but I can’t.
Not with Luc practically breathing down my neck, Finn still in my peripheral vision, and Dane ready to launch into dad-mode at any second thanks to Raine’s appearance. I can’t think straight. I can’t concentrate.
And then it gets worse.
Storm-eyed Mason Payne cuts through the crowd alongside an older man who looks just like him, if you added twodecades and a permanent layer of grease under the fingernails. They’re both scanning the warm-up area, looking flustered and panting like they’ve just fought their way up the mountain as fast as possible.
Dane clocks them, too, and he raises a hand and shouts, “Jim! Here!”
My head whips toward him, eyes wide.“What the hell?” I mouth.
“What?”Dane just shrugs, like I’m the one being weird.We’ve discussed it, and I know he doesn’t believe the rumors either. He also mentioned to me how nice Mason’s dad was after talking to him at one of the races before the World Cup.
But he doesn’t know that I made an absolute fool out of myself yesterday.
“Hey, Crews.” Mason’s dad grins as they approach. “Thanks. Somehow, they forgot to inform us that the race will be earlier.”
God, even the UCI are dickheads.
“Course. And I told you last time, I’m Dane,” my brother answers.
“Sure,” Jim says with a noncommittal grunt. Without further ado, he drops Mason’s bike into the tight little gap on my other side. Not quite Luc-level intrusive, but still way too close.
Mason glances toward a quieter corner behind us. “There’s another spot back there.”
Jim waves him off. “I’m not hauling this bloody bike around again like a mule when there’s a perfectly good space here. Sit down.”
Mason mutters something that sounds suspiciously like a curse but drops onto his bike next to me anyway. Our shoulders don’t touch, but they’re close. So close that if I breathe too deeply, we might accidentally share air.
I glance at him. He glances at me. And we both snap our eyes back down to our handlebars like teenagers in a rom-com who accidentally brushed hands.
This is so fucking embarrassing.
Jim’s voice cuts through my spiraling as he asks Dane, “He already in the zone? Or can he talk?”
I lift my head. “What’s up?”
Jim beams. “Good to meet you, mate. I’m Jim. Hearda lotabout you.”
Mason groans under his breath, and yeah, that’s definitely a twitch at the corner of Jim’s mouth, like he’s trying very hard not to laugh. At me? At Mason? I have no idea. I just sit there and try to remember how to breathe normally.
“Right,” Jim says after a beat when he realizes I won’t give him an answer. “I’ll let you concentrate.”
Silence falls over our group, and it’s not the good kind. It’s the heavy, smothering kind that makes your ears ring from the pressure of trying too hard not to exist. The awkwardness makes me even more nervous, which results, of course, in another hiccup.
Luc chuckles beside me just as Finn snorts, and I don’t even need to look to know he’s smiling. And, cherry on the fucking cake, Mason lets out this sharp little breath, almost a laugh.Almost.
Just perfect.
I stare down at my handlebars, my cheeks blazing, and then, like clockwork, I hiccup again.
Kill. Me.Now.
