Page 92 of Downforce

I’m almost taken by surprise by how quickly she agrees. I was expecting more protest from her but definitely glad when she doesn’t give any and try to kick me out instead.

I squat in front of the DVDs, running my finger. “How about this one? I read the play in year eight if I recall accurately.”

“Oh no.” She pulls the Julius Caesar DVD from me with a shake of her head. “You are not ready for 1953 Marlon Brando.” She actually clutches the DVD to her bosom, cradling it.

The way she says his name almost causes a surge of jealousy to well up inside of me. Except that the twist of her lips and the somewhat far off look in her eyes has me seeing the quirky side of Annalise that I didn’t know existed.

I like it. I’m realizing there are parts of her I want to discover.

“Not ready?”

She shakes her head. “Very few people are ready for 1953 Marlon Brando, and since you probably haven’t revisited the play since you were twelve years old …” She pauses, a questioning look in her expression.

“Close enough. Thirteen.”

She nods and proceeds, “You’re not ready. How about we start you off slow?”

Smiling, I nod in agreement because this feels like the start of a journey I hadn’t anticipated and am not certain I’m ready for but am more than willing to take.

CHAPTER 26

Max

I pace my flat, book in hand, like a caged lion waiting for the keeper to show up with his meal for the day.

It’s been two days since I’ve had a night alone with Annalise. Ever since I made dinner at her place, we’ve spent most evenings together, eating dinner and watching a movie or working on a sudoku puzzle. Some nights both.

Even while in Canada for the Grand Prix, we managed to fit a night of movie watching in since she’d brought her portable DVD player. But tonight, though I’m in my flat and she’s in hers, we’re a million miles apart.

Separated by family. Mainly hers.

“Right, mate,” Edwin says as he enters my living room from the kitchen. He’s just ended a telephone call.

I peer up at him over the pages of the book I’ve only been able to partially pay attention to.

“The deal I was on the phone about,” he says by way of reminder. “It looks like it’s a go.” His voice rises with excitement.

When I don’t respond, he approaches, hand outstretched. “Are you doing one of your number puzzles?” He turns the book up to see the cover.

“Julius Caesar?" He frowns. “What are you reading that shite for?”

“It’s one of the greatest plays ever written,” I tell him.

“Right. Weren’t we done with all of that back in school?”

I don’t have time to answer his question when there’s a knock on my door. Correction, not a knock, a pounding.

My stomach plummets because I know who it is before Edwin opens it.

“Why on earth doesn’t my key work for your flat?” my mother demands as she barges in, not bothering with a greeting.

“I had the locks changed,” I say, barely looking at her.

“Why didn’t I get an updated key then?”

Because I don’t want you here.

“Oversight,” I say instead of my true thoughts, knowing that would cause one of her epic tantrums … which is the last thing I need right now, since tomorrow is qualifying.