Page 47 of Cross the Line
‘Ready?’ I ask, lifting the remote. But before I can pressplay, I drop my arm again and sit upright. ‘Wait, hold on.’
I toss the remote at him and hustle over to my snack stash on the dresser.
‘I went on a snack run earlier,’ I explain, holding up two bags of chips. ‘You can’t go to Canada without getting all-dressed and ketchup chips. Pick your poison.’
He taps a finger against his lips, eyeing one bag, then the other. ‘Split ’em half and half?’
‘I like the way you think.’
I hand him the ketchup flavour first and make my way back around the bed to my side. Dev pressesplayon the movie as I open my bag and sigh contentedly at the first salty bite. I’ve eaten a few by the time the opening credits are over, and it takes me a second to realize that I can’t understand a word of the dialogue.
‘Dev, I need subtitles,’ I remind him, glancing over at where he’s made himself comfortable, chips and the remote resting on his stomach.
‘Oh shit. Yeah, of course.’ He scrambles to turn them on, flashing me a crooked, apologetic smile. ‘Forgot not all of us were forced to go to Hindi school.’
‘You may not have liked it, but I’m jealous you speak three languages,’ I grumble, shoving my hand down in the chip bag again.
‘Five, actually,’ he says offhandedly, focus fixed on the TV as Shah Rukh Khan swans into the frame. ‘I learned French and Italian after moving to Europe. Made it easier to communicate in the paddock. Kind of sucks that everyone is just expected to speak perfect English.’
I peer over at him, missing the translation on the screen. If I thought I couldn’t be more impressed by Dev Anderson, here he is proving me wrong . . . and making more butterflies skitter through my stomach.
‘I kind of hate you,’ I tease. ‘Stop being good at so many things. Save a few impressive feats for the rest of us.’
Dev laughs. The sound is familiar and natural, and it comes so easily now that I have to wonder if the man who walked in here is the same one lying next to me. ‘You’re good at a lot of things, too, you know,’ he says, meeting my eyes across the chasm of bedding that separates us. ‘Don’t ever sell yourself short, Willow.’
——
At intermission – gotta love Bollywood – I get up to stretch while Dev grabs drinks from the vending machine down the hall.
We’ve shaken off the earlier awkwardness and fallen back into our old ways. I pelted him with gummy bears when he belted out ‘Ajab Si’ like I was the one he was confessing his feelings for. We booed the screen together every time Mukesh appeared. Dev even promised to have every costume Deepika Padukone wore recreated for me after I gushed about them at least half a dozen times, probably just to shut me up.
We’re in our own little world, where nothing outside this hotel room or unrelated to this silly movie masterpiece matters. I hope it’s a reprieve for him, a chance to reset and shed all the crap this week brought him, because tomorrow is a new day, and I don’t want those worries following him into it. I can’t get rid of them completely, but Icanmake things a little lighter, even if it’s just by watching a movie and eating junk food that he probably shouldn’t be consuming.
The lock clicks, and Dev steps back inside. But instead of kicking off his shoes and coming back to the bed, he sets the waters and my key card on the small side table and drags a hand through his hair.
‘I just realized what time it is,’ he says, his chin tucked and his expression a little less relaxed than it was before.
I move to the entryway and stop a couple of feet from where he’s holding the door open with his foot.
‘I should probably get to bed,’ he adds. ‘We have to head out pretty early tomorrow.’
‘Oh.’ I don’t mean to sound disappointed, but the word slips out that way. Shaking my head, I force my tone lighter. ‘Yeah, you’re right. And I still need to pack, so . . .’
‘We’ll finish the movie another time.’ With the reassuring smile he gives me, I know it’s a promise. ‘You sure you want to come to Dallas for the week before we head to Austria? If you want to go back to New York, Chava can change your ticket.’
I shake my head. We need to be in Europe in a week for the next race, and if Dev plans to spend the time in between at headquarters, then so do I. Having time apart won’t be conducive to content creation, and since we’ll be at the factory, I’ll have the opportunity to talk to Argonaut employees there. It’s the perfect chance to work on Dev’s gratitude tour, which will still be good no matter what strategy we shift to.
‘Still okay,’ I reassure him. ‘I guess I’ll see you in the morning?’
He nods, holding the door open with his hand now, slowly backing away. ‘Car to the airport leaves at nine.’
‘Sounds good.’
There’s a beat of silence, like neither of us knows how to end the conversation. I don’t really want him to go. Does he feel the same?
‘Right,’ he finally says, taking a decisive step back.
I move to grab the door so I can see him out and hang on to these last seconds together. We’ll meet up again in the morning, sure, but I want more of this before it fades away.
