Page 100 of Double Apex

“Lies!” she faux-screeches, laughing. “Nah, it’s probably all true.” She shoots a look at Cosmin so ecstatic I wonder if she’s coked up or just always like this. “You haaaaave to come to dinner with us,” she insists, seizing my hands in a death grip.

Before I can take a breath to decline, the emoji cuts in.

“Brook, there’s probably a dress code.”

“So what?” Brooklyn retorts. “She can go upstairs and change and meet us.”

I sneak a glance at Cosmin, whose nostrils flare that tiny arrogant bit I recognize so well. We haven’t said a syllable to each other, and I think everyone other than Brooklyn has noticed.

“You’re sweet to invite me,” I tell her. “But my flight was the equivalent of four Zack Snyder films long and I’m dead on my feet.”

“That explains it,” the emoji pipes up, all sympathy. “You were sleepwalking!”

I’m gratified when Cosmin disentangles his arm from her tentacles and takes his phone out, glancing at it. I wonder if there’s anything on the screen. Is he low-key putting her in her place for being ratty? Or puttingmein my place by pretending to check the time, implying I’m wasting theirs?

I point at the elevators. “Sorry, but for real, I gotta hit the hay.”

The emoji attempts to slither her arms around Cosmin’s elbow again, and for a second time he avoids her, putting his phone in his pocket and straightening his cuffs. She pulls a pout and he offers her a stiff smile, plucking her hand up and hooking it on his arm. I’m not sure what to make of the exchange.

For some reason it hurts especially that I had a territorial showdown with her hours before being fucked deliciously half to death in that Lincoln. Her being here with him now makes it seem like the afternoon I spent with him, rather than being a transcendent moment of connection, was a detour intheirjourney.

How long did he wait before calling her? Was it the same day I left for North Carolina? She must’ve gone with him to São Paulo. I could spit poison, realizing that while I was reading my dad’s email and crying during the Brazilian GP, this halfwit was waiting for Cosmin at the Hotel Emiliano.

Folding my arms, I back away from the group. “Brooklyn? Lovely meeting you. Nice seeing you too, Owen.”

I flatten my lips in a regretful way when I look at Cosmin, unable to affect any pretense that I’m not dying inside.

Let the bitch savor her victory—there’ll be no parting middle finger from me this time. The best I can manage is to ignore her, which is pretty weak sauce.

The only person I hate more than her right now is myself.

“Awwww!” Brooklyn whines, rushing to bear-hug me again. “Another time, right?”

“Of course.” I pat her fashionably emaciated shoulder blade and disengage before shifting my focus to Cosmin.

Ugh, he’s so gorgeous. I let myself unabashedly peruse his dumb perfect face—the marble-angel bone structure, the delicious lips I’ve felt everywhere, the eyes I’ve locked with as I came, the lush hair I’ve grabbed while his head was between my thighs.

“Good luck on Sunday,” I tell him.

“Will you be there?”

“Undecided.”

He extends a hand, and if there ever existed a more soul-punching door prize than a goodbye handshake from the guy you’re in love with, I don’t wanna know about it. I take his hand and hide the shiver that goes through me at his warmth.

“You’re still the best race engineer,” he says with a melancholy smile. “Lars is good, but you’re the best.”

“Wasthe best,” I correct. I pull my hand from his and put it behind my back. “Bag a win for Mo this weekend, Legs.”

I pivot toward the elevators because hell no I’m not letting the emoji see my tears.

As I walk away, Cosmin calls after me, “Noapte buna, draga,” and I wish I’d never learned a word of Romanian, because even a simple “good night” is like a beautiful curse, damning me never to be free of my love for him.

29

ABU DHABI

PHAEDRA

---