That’s probably a weird message to receive from an unknown number.
This is Matt, by the way. On the sponsor phone.
There’s nothing but silence for several minutes. Matt tries to tear his eyes away from his phone, to pay attention to the race, but he keeps reversing the footage to replay what he’s missed.
He sees the text as soon as it arrives.
Robert
Which race are you watching?
This one from last year. Also the last several races
Why are you watching my races?
Know thy enemy
There goes our PR friendship, I guess
Matt can’t tell if he’s being serious. Were they back to enemies now? Should Matt explain it was a joke, just in case? Why did he think they were okay enough to joke about it when clearly they weren’t?
He’s in the middle of typing out a long apology text when another message arrives.
Room number?
Matt backspaces everything and answers:
1632
The message hasn’t been read for a full second before there’s a knock on Matt’s door.
“Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters, knocking things over. Where the fuck are his shirts? His jeans?!
Another impatient knock, and Matt decides answering the door is more pressing than what he’s wearing. He opens it just wide enough to stick his face up to, twisting until the rest of his body is out of view. “How’d you get here so fast??”
Robert thumb-points to the door behind him. “I’m your neighbor.”
“Oh.” That makes sense—rooming the drivers together. How had they never run into each other before?
“Are you…” Robert looks down. “Naked?”
The accusation is way worse than what he’s actually wearing. Matt throws the door open, revealing his basketball shorts. “I didn’t have time to grab a shirt.”
“But you grabbed shorts?” Robert’s wearing that teasing smile again. “You watch my races naked?”
Matt’s face is on fire. “Are you here just to make fun of me?”
“Obviously not, I didn’t know you’d be naked.”
“Iwasn’t?—”
“I wanted to see what you meant with your critique. If you can't back it up with examples and solutions, then why did you text me?”
Fair point. “Okay. Let me just grab a?—”
Robert pushes the door open before Matt can close it on him. “C’mon, you’ve got nothing I haven’t seen before.”
Robert helps himself to the room, sitting cross-legged on Matt’s bed in front of his laptop. He pulls the device closer before looking back up at Matt and patting the space next to him.
