That man was the exception to every rule.
‘I bet you that Colin can’t keep it in.’
I jerked my head up from where I’d been scrolling absently through the PowerFuel feed on my phone to find that Lori had been talking to me. She was sitting one row in front of me in the swivelling seats. The TV coverage was on a screen behind the driver’s seat, the riders rolling out of the city at a leisurely pace in a neutralised start.
The helicopter footage sent visceral memories over my skin: handlebar tape under my palms; Lori behind me, getting in the zone while Bonnie and I enjoyed the calm before the storm. Later in the race, we’d give it everything to lend Lori extra speed while she bided her time for an attack.
That was Colin’s job today and I finally realised what Lori had meant with ‘can’t keep it in’. Of course she hadn’t meant anything to do with his sex life. She probably preferred to imagine he didn’t have one, which must have taken an enormous effort, given his boundless swagger.
‘I think the strategy for today is to stay in the peloton, mark the other contenders,’ I replied.Don’t do anything stupid, had been the DS’s words. ‘Except I’m not supposed to tell anyone that. I signed an NDA,’ I continued ruefully.
‘Don’t worry. I’m safe,’ Lori said with an amused smile. ‘I bet between Colin and me and that last crash, you were happy to see the back of Harper-Stacked.’
I’d always assumed Lori was the embodiment of the team: a winner, happy to sacrifice everything. But in that self-deprecating comment, I understood she’d simply been dealing with the pressure her way.
‘I was pretty down after the crash,’ I began, ‘but it still hurt to leave. You’re lucky you still have the team. I didn’t get on a bike at all for a while, I was so upset.’ Until Colin had forced me back on and reminded me there was more to the sport than winning – an unexpectedly mature lesson.
To my surprise, Lori nodded grimly. ‘That’s relatable. I’m glad we didn’t entirely kill your love of the sport, especially last year when I was a jerk.’ Her outburst at the Paris-Roubaix came to mind, when she’d dislocated her shoulder and taken out her frustration on her bike – and the rest of the team.
‘I know you had rotten luck last year. I was there. And it was kind of nice to see you had a human side.’
She snorted in amusement. ‘I had to learn I wasn’t infallible. Sometimes I think Colin’s the other side of the coin,’ she mused.
‘How?’
‘He puts so much pressure on himself for others and he doesn’t even realise that’s what makes him a leader. I’m not painting him as a saint – not by a long shot. But he’d do anything for those guys – for Dad, even though I know their relationship isn’t the best. He’s got his fucking heart on his sleeve.’
I wrinkled my nose. ‘If his heart is kind of shaped like his dick, then maybe.’
She laughed, clapping me on the shoulder. ‘He thinks he’s such a big guy. But what he says and what he does are two different things. I thought you might have worked that out.’
I was too struck by her statement to respond and she continued without waiting for me to find my words.
‘He plays the impulsive delinquent, but Colin grew up years ago. He just hasn’t noticed yet – hasn’t accepted it.’
I had to remind myself firmly she wasn’t talking about his feelings – his attitude to relationships. All this stuff was getting mixed up in my mind, as though the next two weeks would make all the difference to his future – and mine.
‘If he’s all grown up, then he needs to stick to the strategy today,’ I said lightly, hoping to change the subject. ‘He needs a quiet ride in the peloton, saving his strength for the mountains.’
So, of course the impulsive delinquent was in the first breakaway, following Nellie when he jumped onto the wheel of an attacking rider from another team. We all held our breath as the gap between the breakaway and the peloton widened to five seconds, then ten, then twenty.
The rest of the contenders for the general classification, the overall win, remained safely in the peloton, assuming the superior power of the large group of cyclists would reel in the breakaway later in the day. It was the most likely outcome.
‘Farking hell, boy! He’ll be the bloomin’ death of me! What does he think he’s doing?’ I heard Tony before I saw him, coming up the steps into the bus, his eyes on the TV screen.
I knew Tony was never allowed on team radio and I now had first-hand experience of why. I studied Tony as he sat glued to the footage I could barely make myself watch, remembering all of Colin’s comments, how he’d make a joke rather than admit he was afraid of disappointing his dad.
Tears were gathering behind my eyes and I did not like this at all. Was he just acting out, or had he considered this move, even though it was not the strategy for the day?
‘I told you!’ Lori said, pointing wildly at the screen. ‘Baby brother can’t keep it in.’
My anxiety levels only built as the stage wore on and the breakaway remained out in front. Tony’s grumbling had quieted as though he’d at least accepted that this would be good publicity, even if Colin was wrecked tomorrow. I should have been posting more content, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it and the followers would be more interested in clips of the race right now anyway.
His place in the breakaway meant a lot of coverage of the sponsors on the jersey – and a body that felt far too familiar to me. Hunched over the bike, the cords of muscle in his calves and forearms standing out in high contrast, he was like music in motion, pushing it up the climbs and sweeping down the descents with precision.
I heard over the radio when he managed to accept a musette from one of the swannies along the route, but in the breakaway there was never much time to sit back and rest, so he guzzled calories whenever he could, his body slowly depleting its reserves as he kept pumping through the long kilometres.
With 30 km to go, the peloton started picking up speed, the other teams eager to catch the tiring breakaway. Nellie dropped back, exhausted after hours of lending his slipstream to Colin. Two of the other riders couldn’t take the speed either, leaving only three in the breakaway and forcing Colin to take his turn at the front.
