I love the sport, too, and hope I have a long career in it, but I won’t give anything or anyone that power. I want to enjoyright now. And right now, I really don’t want to give Kian Walker the satisfaction of going in there to train with him.
Decision made; I leg it. Running away from something else I don’t want to do. Yet again.
Instead, I persuade Johannes to go for dinner with me in the hotel restaurant again. We snap a ton of selfies and I post them to my story. These are immediately picked up and shared by press and fan accounts until I swear the entire world is watching our every move. It’s exhilarating to feel like so many people care what I do.
We’re just paying the bill when I catch a glimpse of Kian going from the gym to the lift in the hotel lobby. For a second, he looks so dejected as his eyes glance between the empty plates and glasses on our table and how Johannes is laughing about something his teammate, Nils, did on the flight over here.
Then he catches me watching him and he instantly schools his face into the pissed-off look he wears just for me.
I’m an asshole and I know it.
He’s trying. Like, really trying, and I’m being a dick. It’s worse that I know this and yet I’m still struggling to just take the bloody olive branch he’s offering.
‘Hello? Earth to Harper.’ Johannes snaps his fingers in front of my face and I watch as Kian walks with a defeated air towards the lifts.
‘Sorry, sorry. I think I’m just tired. Hang on a second, I just need to go do something.’
I slide out of the booth and stride across the hotel lobby towards the lift Kian’s waiting for. The doors start to open as I’m just five seconds away, and my strides turn into a sprint so that I make it just in time to keep the doors open.
‘Are you kidding?’ he grumbles.
He smells like a gym locker right now, and I hate that it’s so appealing. I want to lean in to him, get up close and take a deep breath, inhale his woodsy, masculine scent. I remember how he looked in his vest and shorts in the gym and have to physically shake my head to get rid of the image.
A queue starts to form behind us and we both step out of the way to let people into the lift.
‘You’re such an asshole,’ he says through gritted teeth as the lobby empties around us and the lift departs. ‘Why did you stand me up?’
He doesn’t call another lift, so we’re clearly having this out here and now.
I sigh.
‘I mean, technically I didn’t. You sent me a time and a place. I never said I’d be there.’ It’s petty, because I replied to his message with a thumbs-up. I had every intention of going, and I did … sort of. I mean, I went there. I just didn’t go in.
‘Please, educate me on the meaning of the thumbs-up emoji!’
‘That was to let you know I’d seen the message, not to tell you I’d be there. I wasn’t feeling it, so I decided to get dinner instead.’
He finally peers over my shoulder in the direction I came in, quickly spotting Johannes at the table I abandoned.
‘I can see that. God forbid you miss an opportunity to update your socials and hang out with the competition. Clearly, getting shitfaced and posing for pictures is more important than the team you’re actually on. Did nothing Anders said earlier get through your thick head?’
‘Best friend.’ When Kian raises an eyebrow at me, tilting his head slightly, I clarify for him. ‘He’s my best friend. And we weren’t getting shitfaced. We were having dinner. Go and sniff my glass if you don’t believe me. Just sparkling lemon water all evening.’ I don’t mention that this was Johannes’s doing not mine and I’d have happily taken a vodka soda if he hadn’t overridden any alcohol consumption this evening.
‘He’s our competitor. One of the biggest, if the predictions are anything to go on. I don’t get it. Do you just not give a shit about your career? Is this all a bloody joke to you? Elijah’s sitting at home dreaming of being here and his spot is being wasted on you.’
I’m so sick of his constant judgement and criticism. He’s talking about my best friend in the whole world. The only person whose been by my side through thick and thin, there’s nothing that can replace Johannes. Not a team or this sport.
‘You’re also one of my biggest competitors,’ I tell him. ‘Yet you’ve been trying to get me to hang out with you in the gym or in the pool or in those boring media sessions. So which is it? Should we be socialising together or not?’
He turns to me and takes a step closer.
‘It’s not the same and you know it. We’re on the same fucking team! Or do you just not understand the concept of a team? Have you got any fucking brains at all? We’re supposed to make each other better for the sake of the Constructor’s Championship and Hendersohm as a team.’
I know he’s right, but he’s being such a wanker about it. I don’t think he knows any other way to be than patronising. Back in the lower categories, I always made the effort to be at least friendly with my teammate. Maybe too friendly, considering I used to stick my dick in Johannes when we were both driving for the same team.
So, I find myself back on the defensive. ‘Me and Johannes have been in each other’s lives since our early karting days. I refuse to give that up because we’re racing against each other. Would you stop socialising with Elijah if you’re on different teams next year?’
I’m met with silence before he sighs. Score one to me.
