Page 69 of Head Over Wheels

‘You know how it works. Fans support me and I owe them a piece of myself. I bet our coverage and interactions have gone up.’

Dad’s grumble proved my point. ‘I don’t want coverage and sponsorship at your expense.’

‘I’m a team asset, Dad,’ I reminded him. ‘And so is Seb.’ For now. ‘It’s a win-win situation.’

‘You looked… well, ahem… Are you sure he hasn’t… developed feelings for you? Feelings that might be… a problem later?’

Maybe he had. MaybeIhad.

Dad gave me a concerned ‘dad’ look, which coaxed a ridiculous blush up my chest. But my dad knowing I was having casual sex was better than him suspecting the truth: my head was a mess over a guy who was all wrong for my future.

Those moments of weakness where I’d imagined staying in the Belgian countryside for him were exactly that: a weakness. Another few days and I might have imagined crazy things like getting pregnant and having a sweet kid like Maël or Alice.

A sweet kid who would torch my fitness and possibly end my career, as I had done for Mum.

‘We’ve been pretty up-front with each other,’ I mumbled.

Dad’s breath came out long and deep. ‘Good, because I have something I need you to ask him for me.’

20 April 10:42

LoonieDunes: You ruined my phone.

Folklore: You rediscovered Instagram then?

LoonieDunes: Yes, because it buzzed at me 15,000 times. I’m not even joking.

Folklore: Are you… mad? I just thought the world could do with more hot pictures of you. Plus the whole fake relationship thing. But I am sorry I didn’t ask first.

LoonieDunes: A fake relationship doesn’t give you the right to hack my social media. The adoring public has enough pictures of you and me from your account.

Folklore: You are mad, then.

LoonieDunes: Yes. We need to stage an argument – to cover for the real one.

Folklore: I see you’re not mad enough to stop joking around with me.

LoonieDunes: Apparently not.

Folklore: I promise you can tell me off properly at the finishline on Sunday. Dad’s letting me race again, so I’ll be coming in a few hours before you.

LoonieDunes: I saw the starting list. I hope you’ve got your luck back.

Folklore: We did fuck again, so maybe.

LoonieDunes: Seriously, we should talk. After the race.

Folklore: I’ll kiss you after the race, like a good fake girlfriend, and then you’ll have to go stand on the podium to get sprayed with champagne.

LoonieDunes: You have a powerful imagination.

Folklore: Well, you’re picturing it too, now.

Chapter 28

Seb

I wanted to be watching the women’s start on Sunday at the Liège-Bastogne-Liège, the old lady of the Classics, as the race was known, but I had to line up with the team to be photographed and cheered at. I only had time to quickly check the news ticker on my phone while I warmed up on a stationary bike in front of the team bus, scrolling until I found a photo of her cruising in the peloton. I was even grateful for that glimpse of her freckled cheeks under her sunglasses, her plait over her shoulder and her body primed to fight.

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