William's shoulder brushes mine. "Celebrating properly," he says, voice low enough that only I can hear. "Been a while since we've done something like this."
His eyes meet mine, and the air between us shifts. Been a while since we've done a lot of things.
The receptionist leads us down a corridor to a private room with plush couches, a large TV screen, and a sound system. It's cozy—too cozy for maintaining the professional distance William and I have been keeping. But it’s a much needed respite in the middle of the chaos surrounding us.
"Drinks?" EJ asks, picking up the menu.
"Yuzu soda for me," I say, sitting down on one of the couches.
William slides in beside me. Not directly next to me, but close. Close enough that a trace of his cologne reaches me, that familiar scent that used to linger on my clothes and immediately takes me back to better times.
Blake orders snacks—edamame,karaage, and a selection of tempura. Throughout the week, as we worked relentlessly to contain the issue, he focused on ensuring I was feeding myself instead of hyper-focusing on the problem and not caring about my health. The food arrives quickly, along with our drinks. I take a long sip of my soda, welcoming the cold bite of it against the sudden warmth in my cheeks.
EJ throws himself onto the couch with the boundless energy of a young man riding on a ton of adrenaline. "This is sick! I haven't done karaoke since..." He pauses, calculating. "Actually, I've never done proper karaoke."
Bless him, because he’s been quite calm even with all the weird questions the media asked about William and me.
"First time for everything, rookie," William says, dropping down next to him.
"Right!" Blake picks up a microphone, scrolling through the song list. "Who's brave enough to start?"
"Go on, Blake," William says, grinning. "Show us how it's done."
Blake selects a song—"A Woman Like You" by Russ Ballard. The opening notes fill the room, and he launches into it with surprising confidence.
"Wait, I know this one!" EJ's exclamation breaks through the moment. He jumps up, reaching for the second microphone. "My dad used to play this all the time when I went karting!" He jumps up to join Blake in front of the TV, both of them belting out the chorus with dramatic flair.
"Didn't expect the kid to know 80s rock," William murmurs, shifting slightly closer to me on the couch.
"Full of surprises," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady.
His pinky finger brushes against mine once again between us. Deliberate. My skin tingles at the contact.
"I've missed you," he says, his voice barely audible over Blake and EJ's enthusiastic performance.
I swallow hard. "William..."
"I know." His eyes never leave my face. "I know we agreed. But it doesn't make it easier."
He finds my hand again, this time covering it entirely. His palm is warm and slightly rough. I should pull away. I don't.
"How are you really doing?" he asks.
"I'm fine," I say automatically.
He gives me a look. "Violet."
I sigh. "I'm... managing." I glance at Blake and EJ, but they're completely absorbed in their performance. "The team's results help. Keeps me focused."
William traces circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. "And when you're alone?"
The question hits somewhere tender. I've built my life around managing, around being fine. "I work. I sleep. I plan for the nextrace. I overthink what is happening." I pause. "I think about you."
His eyes darken. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He leans closer. "What do you think about?"
