Page 73 of Head Over Wheels

‘You bought it for me?’ I mumbled around another mouthful.

‘No. I was joking.’

‘You didn’t have to share it with me!’

‘Sharing? Is that what we’re doing?’

Giving him a dirty look, I cut off another piece and shoved it into his mouth, dripping vanilla sauce onto his chin. He swiped it up with his thumb and even that fizzed in places that it shouldn’t have.

‘Well, this is romantic. How about you take a photo for—’ I shoved another piece in to shut him up.

I obviously hadn’t had enough to eat after the race – or maybe it was just a really slow lift – because the waffle was almost gone by the time the doors opened three floors below.

Hotels were a constant problem for my dad – well, money was a constant problem. Rooms booked up years in advance and the hiked-up prices for teams around the time of an event meant that the guys were staying in a two-star hotel above abar, while the mechanics and technical staff struggled to find somewhere to park the bus and the trailer of bikes. But the women were in an equally crappy hotel in the countryside somewhere near Bastogne where there weren’t even any waffles, so I suspected the men had the better deal.

Outside the hotel, the evening was dim, despite the longer days of spring. I tugged my jacket around myself as a gust blew through it. The cathedral loomed dark across the square, all turrets and gothic arches, but we wandered in another direction.

He spoke first. ‘So we have to talk. I kind of thought we weren’t finished when you rushed off today.’

I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted to wander aimlessly through the paved streets of Liège – and finally hold his hand.

‘What do you need to talk about? I won’t touch your social media again. I shouldn’t have intruded.’

He swiped his tongue thoughtfully over his lip and I indulged in the spark that went through me at the sight. ‘Apology accepted.’

‘That’s it?’

‘Apparently.’ He shot me a half-smile that I wanted to catch and bottle.

My heart soared for a moment, imagining we could do the wandering and hand-holding thing now and forget the ‘talk’. I could do Dad’s bidding another time.

But then he continued. ‘I thought we had to talk about… the publicity stunt relationship and when we need a fake break-up.’

That sent my heart plummeting again.

‘Ah, that stuff.’

‘Did you need to talk to me about something else?’

‘How are your Instagram woes? Is that why you want a fake break-up?’ I asked, avoiding the topic a little longer.

‘I didn’t say I wanted to fake break up. I just assumed we’d have to end it as soon as you got back in form.’

‘Well, that hasn’t happened yet.’

‘But if you ever want to fake break up, then just let me know. I can post something for my people and you can post something for your people and our people can talk to other people and we’ll get the message out that we’re still friends.’

‘Still friends,’ I said, needing those words more each time we repeated them.

‘Oh, look. A waffle shop. We’d better just stop here and buy me another waffle, since my first one got stolen.’

I whacked him on the arm. ‘You are such a pushover! Letting strange girls hack your Insta and steal your waffles.’

His side-eye was amusing as he ignored me in favour of the waffle stand. He came away with another of the crispy sort covered in sugar, but this one also had chocolate oozing out of the inside. My mouth watered as he took a bite, licking his finger when the sauce dripped.

I sidled close. ‘You know I gave you a few bites of… your waffle.’

‘Only two.’

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