‘Yeah.’
It doesn’t take a genius to unpack the subtext.
‘That’s quite the temptation,’ Kian says. ‘Hot Belgian twins.’
‘But I’m here, with you,’ I reply. I hope he knows what I’m trying to say without having to actually say it.
Yes, I know, I’m a coward.
He finally pulls me into his arms and I tuck myself into his side, my cheek pressed against his shoulder. He smells of my shower gel, minty toothpaste, and a kind of homeyness that’s incredibly soothing.
‘Doyouwant to talk about it?’ he whispers into the darkness.
Normally I wouldn’t, but I find myself speaking anyway. ‘There was something weird with Johannes tonight, when we’ve been out the last couple of months he’s taken a backseat, told me he was cleaning his image up and I should, too.’ Even in the dark I can see Kian’s knowing grin of agreement with Johannes’s wise words. ‘Okay, maybeeveryone’sbeen telling me that and I wasn’t listening, but that’s beside the point for this story. I’ve barely seen him recently, and I assumed he was blissfully coupled up. He’s been having a good season on the track, too, until the other day, and even I thought maybe he was on to something.’
Kian’s bark of laughter stops me. I roll my eyes and he gestures for me to continue.
‘Yet tonight he was pissed, and constantly scanning the bar. Then he spots these twins?—’
‘The hot identical gay twins?’
‘The holy grail, right?’ I say. Kian doesn’t respond. ‘Before I can say anything, Jo’s out of the booth and dragging them over. I said I wasn’t up for it –’ I’m still hoping Kian will get the message without me having to say it out loud ‘– but there was no stopping him. I said I was going home and left him to it.’
‘Is he okay?’ Kian asks. Trust him to worry about whether my best friend is okay, even when that same best friend was directly working against Kian’s own interests tonight. He’s such a good person – a much better person than I am.
‘I don’t know. He was shooting tequila, so probably not.’
‘And you left him there?’
‘Wait a—!’ My first instinct is defensive, but I know he’s not actually attacking me or accusing me, because he’s still holding me in his arms and our legs are entwined. I take a moment to breathe, and then reply petulantly, ‘I paid the bill before I left and told the barman to stop serving him.’
Am I a shit friend, though? Kian would have done more, I know. Kian Ubered across Miami in the middle of the night to come and get me when I was a drunken mess. He looked after me when I was sick in Melbourne. He’s calmly comforting me now when I know I hurt him earlier on when I didn’t answer his question.
‘Text him now and make sure he’s okay. Get him an Uber home if that’s what he wants. You aren’t a bad friend –’ is Kian a mind-reader now, too? ‘– but it seems like you both had things going on in your heads tonight and you both need better coping mechanisms.’
I laugh off his comment, but he’s not wrong. I do need better coping mechanisms. I need to address all the things that feel messed up inside of me and lead me to make bad decisions.
I sigh and start texting Johannes. Whatever’s going on with him, I want to make sure he’s being safe. He texts back that he’s in an Uber on the way home. He doesn’t say whether he’s alone or not, but the fact that he’s responding to my message suggests his judgement isn’t entirely impaired.
Maybe the therapy Anders and my agent suggested isn’t such a bad idea, after all.
‘You’re right,’ I admit. I feel like such a grown-up being sensible like this. ‘I’m gonna go back to Anders about the therapy. Can’t hurt, can it.’
His lips find my forehead and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t melt under both his touch and his implicit approval. It’s almost disgusting the way I feel so contented right now. It’s been a very odd day indeed.
‘Good thinking,’ he replies and I snuggle up closer to him. ‘Sleep now,’ he whispers. As I’m falling asleep, it occurs to me that I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am right now.
ChapterNineteen
Kian
Finishing top of the podium in Hungary, Belgium and the Netherlands has lit a rocket up my ass. It’s a thrill to be having the best season of my career. It’s even possible I could challenge the points record of the championship, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself.
I guess it also helps that in my evenings and on down days I’m getting proper quality time with Harper. I’m not willing to credit him for my good fortune, but I’m not denying that I feel great.
But I can’t lie and say he doesn’t help. I’ve never cared too much about having someone to ‘come home to’,but, right now, I can see the appeal. Even when we aren’t hooking up, I feel like we hardly leave each other’s sides. It’s easier in the motorhome than it is in hotels, we cook together and don’t rely on the catered meals from Hendersohm. We can curl up on the sofa late into the evening and watch TV like, dare I say it, a normal couple. We aren’t one. I don’t think? I don’t know? I have no clue where we stand.
Since Belgium when I tried to raise the issue of us being exclusive, I haven’t mentioned it again. It didn’t exactly go well, and although Harper came back and said all the right things, we’ve still not clearly defined what we are to each other. I’m trying to be cool, calm, and collected so as not to overwhelm him or scare him off.
