“Hi. Hi.” I pull Ren into a hug, then grip Mia’s shoulders and hold her at arm’s length. “Congrats on your first points, Mimi.”
My friend, who finished P7 today, grins back at me, her bottom lip quivering. “I still can’t believe it,” she whispers, as if acknowledging her accomplishment out loud might cause it to vanish.
“Babe, I’ve told you all afternoon—you earned that shit. Be proud.” Ren throws their arm around her, giving her a side hug.
“I don’t even know how I did it.” She shakes her head in disbelief.
Inside the elevator, she swipes a room key she must have snagged from Shelbs, then selects the twenty-eighth floor.
“You’re an amazing driver.” I take her hand and squeeze as the car starts its ascent.
Ren gives me a knowing look. Mia is so hard on herself. She deserves to enjoy this moment. Otherwise, what’s the point of it all?
“It may be your rookie season, but you’ve been driving single seater for as long as the rest of the Elite Eight,” Ren reminds her. “You earned this, and you deserve this.”
Like Mia, Ren was the only rookie driver in their first year in Formula 1, so they know firsthand the pressure and prejudice that comes with this gig.
“Thanks,” she says, cheeks going pink as the elevator dings and opens. “I didn’t expect it to feel like this.”
We trail behind her, operating under the assumption that she knows the way to her sister’s room. Following the leader is unnecessary, as it turns out, because the attendees already gathered are causing a ruckus we can hear from the hall.
Grinning, Mia scans the room key and pushes the door open.
We’re greeted by a chorus of hellos from everyone but Kenji, who’s in a duck onesie, and Saint, who’s wearing bright green fuzzy eyelash pajamas. The two of them are too busy arm wrestling at the island to notice us.
“He looks like a Muppet.” Ren snorts, crossing their arms as we take in the scene.
“There she is.” Prince jogs into the entryway, grinning from ear to ear. His blond hair is slicked back and still damp, like he just got out of the shower. He’s wearing joggers and an insanely fitted performance T. As much as we all rag on him, this is the most “dressed down” he ever gets for Sweatpants and Chill.
Without hesitation, he wraps Mia up in a hug, lifts her off her feet, and spins her around.
She giggles, her grin just as wide, as she soaks up his praise.
Ren clamps down on my forearm. “Are you seeing this?” they hiss under their breath.
“I can’t look away.” Fascination and horror battle inside me as I witness the moment.
Eventually, Prince sets Mia on her feet and tucks her chestnut brown hair behind her ear. Then he huddles close and whispers to her.
She blushes, and a heartbeat later, she narrows her eyes and shakes her head slightly.
He turns toward the living room and offers her his outstretched hand.
“Oh. My. God.” Ren squeezes my arm so tightly I’m afraid I’ll have bruises tomorrow.
“Ow.” I pull away. “But also, what the hell was that?”
“I—I have no idea. Did we just witness something we shouldn’t have seen? Neither of them was even trying to hide it.”
Mia has got a lot of explaining to do.
“We’ll take her to brunch and grill her this week,” I suggest. “For now, I’m starving. Let’s check out the spread.”
The two of us stroll into the kitchen, greeting our friends and grabbing a few snacks.
I quickly check my phone, readying to deposit it into the basket Shelby has set out at one end of the bar, but the sight of a notification has me stopping in my tracks.
AS
