Page 47 of Head Over Wheels

‘She’s a wounded bear,’ Colin continued, eyeballing me. ‘You might have seen the wounded bit, but don’t forget about the bear.’

I stepped back from the laptop with a slow sigh. The camera had moved away from Lori anyway. I’d known I was an idiot for making so much of my interactions with her, but those few hours in Siena, watching her come back to life, and every message she’d sent since then, even though I’d been disciplined and hadn’t replied – mostly – had made me forget I was an obstacle in the way of her goals.

My phone remained untouched on the bedside table for the rest of the evening. I left it in the room when we went down to our dinner of – you guessed it – rice. Tony Gallagher arrived halfway through the meal, looking windswept and haggard. He exchanged a few words with Colin, but quickly disappeared again. I wondered whether Lori was relieved her dad had left Roubaix, could barely stand the curiosity about her mental state.

I jogged up the stairs to our room after dinner, Colin dragging his feet behind me. But when I looked at my phone, the only message I had was from my mum, confirming sheand Mamie would make the two-hour drive to Roubaix to watch me finish at the velodrome, since there were no signs of labour among the pregnant goats.

Imagining them clapping enthusiastically regardless of what position I rolled in made my chest uncoil a little – a very little. I managed to settle myself down with a hot shower, until Colin banged on the door with an impatient demand that I let him have his turn.

Lying in bed staring at the wall and listening to him tunelessly hum in the bathroom, the awkwardness of the situation struck me again. I was lying there ruminating obsessively about my roommate’s sister, but kind of enjoying it because if I couldn’t be in the same room as her, I might as well be hanging out with her sibling.

I remembered her calling him a bit of a dick and she was right, but the bond between them was obvious and I suspected Colin would turn into a defender of her interests if necessary – when he grew up a bit.

He came out of the shower and threw himself onto his bed, his arm flung over his eyes.

‘Stop thinking and go to sleep,’ he muttered. ‘I’ve seen enough of your arse to last a lifetime.’

I tucked my arse under the blankets, annoyed to acknowledge the wisdom of one so young. ‘You’ll only see it from a distance tomorrow,’ I quipped.

To my surprise, he erupted into laughter, his chest jerking with it. ‘Good. And I’m betting you’ll be in a hurry to get to Roubaix.’ He met my gaze from under his elbow.

Turning off the light, I tried to settle, but my legs were restless. Just as my roommate’s breathing was beginning to even out, my phone buzzed, lighting up the room.

Jerking upright and snatching the device, I already knew from the twist in my chest who the message was from.

I heard the plan for tomorrow. Don’t screw up.

My thumb hovered over the keypad, but my mind blanked in the onslaught of the thousands of things I wanted to say to her.You were beautiful today; I hated to see you hurt; I wish I could make it all better.I went with something that felt safe.

How bad is the pain?

Her response was predictable:The only thing you’re allowed to type is ‘congratulations on winning’.

I saw she was typing again and held my breath. But what she wrote made me exhale on a cough.

I’m on painkillers and one side-effect seems to be to make me horny – and overshare.

Turning away so Colin didn’t see the grin I couldn’t stifle, I replied:How am I supposed to not respond to that?

Wow, I wished I could see her – tuck her into bed and stroke her hair until she fell asleep. Yeah, those were some sad fantasies when she’d just admitted to being horny and I knew how amazing she tasted.

She kept typing and I bit my lip, waiting to see what she’d say.

You know what? If you win tomorrow, I’m going to kiss you.

My hair stood on end and my throat wouldn’t clear, no matter how many times I spluttered. She wasn’t serious – orif she was, then she surely realised she wouldn’t need to make good on her promise – or threat or whatever. She couldn’t know how much I’d thought about her mouth since Siena – since training camp in December.

Shit, now I was never going to get any sleep. Another message lit up my phone screen.

Do you think I’m not serious?

I sent back a zipped-lip emoji, my heart looping somewhere up near my ears.

You’d better win, Seb. I’m really fucking horny.

My tongue felt like the Goodyear Blimp inside my mouth. She wasn’t typing and my mind got a bit feverish under the pressure to reply.

Congratulations on winning – as many kisses as you want.

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