I dressed quickly, my mood darkening with every snap and zip of my clothes.
When I stepped back into the garage, the familiar scent of burnt rubber and high-octane fuel usually acted as a sedative. Not right now. My chest tightened the second I saw her. Carter was still here. I’d expected her to drop the reports and vanish, but she was anchored to a tool chest, her posture relaxed in a way that set my teeth on edge as she laughed at something Luka was saying.
I veered away, cutting a path toward where Marco was elbow-deep in the rear suspension assembly.
"The high-speed damping felt soft on the transition through the chicane," I muttered, staring at the floor.
Marco grunt-laughed, wiping hydraulic fluid onto a dark rag. "Nice to see you too. Yeah, we’re looking at the shim stack now. If we increase the compression, you might lose some compliance over the kerbs, but you’ll get the mid-corner stability you keep bitching about."
“Fine. Adjust it,” I snapped, my eyes already flicking back toward the tool chest. “Why is Carter still here? I thought she was just dropping papers off.”
Marco didn’t even look up from the dampers, his hands steady as he worked. “Her dad is your coach. She’s allowed inside. Relax.”
“I’m relaxed,” I scoffed, though the words felt tight in my throat.
“Do you want to see the force-velocity graphs?” Marco asked, completely oblivious as I rolled my shoulders once, like I could shake off whatever had just settled under my skin. “I’ve got the live update right here if you want to walk through the low-speed corners.”
"Sure," I lied.
I stared at the tablet Marco held up, but the data points were just a blur of neon green and red. I wasn't looking at the curves. Ten feet away, Luka was leaning in closer to Carter, his shoulder nearly brushing hers.
“It’s the best view in the area,” Luka’s voice drifted over, smooth and easy. “The sun hits the crests and everything turns copper. You can’t tell me you’d rather stay home and organize notes for an essay.”
“I have a lot of work, Luka,” Carter countered, though her smile edged sharper than soft. “And I’ve been to the dunes before. Does the novelty not wear off for you?” Her head tilted, just enough to make it pointed. “Besides is it thebest viewbecause of the races… or the ocean?”
"Both," Luka pushed, leaning closer into her space.
I shifted my weight, craning my neck under the guise of looking at the rear wing assembly. I leaned in toward their conversation, my shoulder brushing a stack of wing flaps resting on the bench. The top one slid, clattering loudly against the floor.
The sound was like a gunshot in the garage. Both Luka and Carter snapped their heads toward me. I didn't apologize. I just stared at the floor as if the mess had personally offended me.
“Good to know we’re stacking these like a house of cards now,” I muttered, nudging the carbon fiber with the toe of my shoe. “Whose brilliant system is that?”
Luka’s eyes lingered on me for a second too long before giving in and turning back to Carter. They leaned in again, their voices dropping into a lower, more private murmur that made my blood boil.
"Are you even listening to me?" Marco’s voice broke through. "I said if we pull the floor to check the plank wear, it’s going to cost us an extra two hours."
"Whatever you need, Marco. Just fix the car," I snapped, my eyes never leaving the back of Luka’s head.
Marco didn't get offended. He was used to the prickle. He slowly lowered his tablet, following my line of sight until he settled on the pair by the tool chest. A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face.
"Ah," Marco chuckled, leaning back against the workbench. "I see. Hard to focus on downforce levels when the view over there is improving, eh? Luka’s finally growing some balls. It looks like he’s got quite the crush."
A violent twitch pulled through my cheekbone. I didn't say a word, but my hands locked around the workbench hard enough to strain my forearms.
Marco’s smile faltered. He looked back at me, his eyes sharpening as he read the tension radiating off my shoulders. The humor died out of his expression, replaced by a look of sudden, uncomfortable realization.
"Is that... a bad thing?" He asked quietly, his voice dropping an octave. "Luka and Carter?"
"Luka needs to focus on school," I said, my voice like falling glass. "And she needs to stay out of the garage."
Across the room, Luka was going in for the kill.
"One hour," Luka promised, his tone tilting into that persuasive charm he usually reserved for sponsors. "If the sunset is a bust, I’ll drive you back and never mention the sand again. Come on, Carter. Live a little."
I stilled, my breath catching in my throat without me meaning it to. I was just waiting to see where she’d land. I knew that look on her face; she was going to say no. She had to. I could practically see her letting him down easy, the rejection already formed in the tilt of her head.
I leaned back against the workbench, a slow, dark sense of satisfaction settling in my gut. I knew exactly what was going on in her head, and it wasn't dune races or the sunset with my brother.
