Page 61 of The Fast Track

Roz unglues her lips from Grayson’s. “Oi, you made it! Who’s this?” She glances curiously at Savannah and Chloe.

“They’re friends of Pat and Cameron,” I explain.

“Oh, all right, then. C’mon—we’re in the back.”

She grabs my hand and leads me through the crowd, Grayson following behind with Savannah and Chloe. We make it all the way past the dance floor to a cordoned-off area near the DJ booth. There are so many beautiful girls millingaround I wouldn’t have known it was the Orbital party if it weren’t for Georgios standing on top of a couch swigging champagne from the bottle. Lou’s bodyguard, a bald man who always wears an earpiece, is planted in front of the steps leading up to the dais.

He nods at Roz but holds out his hand toward us. “Phones.”

“She’s an F3 driver, and he’s an F2 driver.” Roz points at Grayson and me.

Lou’s bodyguard gives us a withering glance, then shrugs. “Fine. But I still need yours.” He turns to Savannah and Chloe. They grimace but hand them over. The bodyguard tosses them into a large metal bucket at his feet, already chock-full of confiscated phones.

“All right, let’s get drinks!” Grayson grabs my shoulders from behind and pushes me to the nearest table, where Georgios and Pat are standing around a tray of shot glasses. I glance around—Savannah and Chloe have already been approached by a couple of engineers—but there’s no sign of Cameron.

Roz grabs a shot from the tray, shoving it at me. “Cheers!”

I sniff the contents of the glass; it’s earthy, with a hint of vanilla. I follow Roz’s lead and throw my head back, taking the shot down with a giant gulp.

I realize my mistake as soon as the liquid hits my tongue. It’s the foulest thing I’ve ever tasted, and that includes all of the dubious protein drinks Mom concocts. Whatever is in the glass goes down my throat like flaming kerosene. My body racks with coughs.

The guys crack up.

“You okay?” Roz asks, thumping my back in a way that’s more likely to send me to the physio than help the alcohol go down.

“Was that tequila?” I gasp in between coughs.

“Top shelf.” Grayson nods. He pushes the tray at me again. “Second one’ll go down smoother, promise.”

“Fine.” I grab another. Let me not be the wet blanket when I’m finally starting to fit in. The second shot is still gross, but at least I don’t feel like I’ve inhaled a gas bomb.

“So, uh, where’s Cameron?” I ask, trying to keep it subtle. “I haven’t seen him all night.”

“With his fan club.” Georgios snorts, gesturing over his shoulder.

My heart sinks as I spot Cameron three tables over, standing in a swarm of statuesque women that now includes Chloe and Savannah. Even Carolina, the gorgeous OTC receptionist, is there. Chloe, sipping from a glass with a little umbrella on top, is smiling up at him in a way that makes me all kinds of sad.

Maybe it’s the two consecutive tequila shots, maybe it’s the post-gala high, or maybe it’s taking inspiration from the girls’ confident display at the club entrance, but before I quite know what I’m doing, I’ve elbowed my way in.

“Hi,” I say, planting myself squarely in front of Cameron so there’s no way he can run off and ignore me.

“Hi.”

Chloe, thank goodness, is a master at social cues. Her eyesdart between the two of us. “Er… I’m going to top up.” She gives her half-full glass a little shake and slips away.

“What is up with you?” I burst out, the alcohol loosening my tongue.

“What do you mean?” He arches an eyebrow at me.

“You know what I mean. You’ve been ignoring me the whole night.”

“No, I haven’t.”

His blatant playing dumb only makes me more agitated. “I waved at you and your mom, and you clearly looked away. Then you did it again during the dinner!”

He smirks, a familiar glint in his eyes. “Counting now, are we?”

“Answer the question.”