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It’s all I can say, and I can feel Royal’s eyes on me again, digging silently in.
“Anyway. Would it be okay to order?”
“Oh, right!” the waiter says and then quickly takes our order before going back to the kitchen with the promise of being right back.
“Seems like you’ve got a fan,” Royal says, but I can’t exactly tell why he’s irritated. Everything feels off.
“I have lots of them. And so do you.”
He snorts and takes a sip of his water. “Isn’t that why you’re here? Because I don’t?” He places his glass back down on the table. “And now, I’m not even winning races.”
“You don’t have to win every single one, Royal. No one does that. It’s impossible.”
He doesn’t say anything, his mood even more stoic, and I don’t like it. I don’t like this side of him at all. Mostly because I don’t understand it. Cocky shithead? I get that. Not a fan, but I get it.
Mopey sad guy with no self-confidence?
This I don’t get at all.
After we eat, the waiter brings us the check which Royal grabs before I can. The waiter runs it, bringing the receipt for Royal to sign. And while I’m looking at Royal, still annoyed he insisted on paying, the waiter decides to shoot his shot. “So, I know you’re not in town forever, but maybe we can get together before you leave.”
He’s giving me this pouty, innocent look that screams anything but innocence, and maybe on any other day, I’d have taken him up on that offer just to blow off some steam.
But not tonight. I just can’t bring myself to even flirt with the good-looking waiter. “I’m sorry. I’m out of here tomorrow.”
He presses his hands against the table and leans in closer to me, flashing me a flirty smile. “There’s always tonight.”
Royal clears his throat loudly, gaining both of our attention. “Here.” He holds the receipt out, and the waiter stands up, pushing off the table and taking the receipt from him.
“Thank you, Mr. Dutton.”
“No problem,” Royal grumbles and stands up, but doesn’t move away, keeping his eyes on me.
So are the waiter’s, and his are pleading with me to take him up on his offer. I should. I really should. Especially since things with Royal are getting a little... confusing.
But I don’t. I give him a polite smile. “Maybe next time. Thank you so much for the excellent service,” I say as I pass by him and feel Royal on my heels.
We don’t say one word to each other as we walk back to the hotel, and he continues the silence when I follow him to his room.
I can feel his intense irritation.
But I have no idea what caused it because for once, the Hotshot isn’t running his mouth.
CHAPTER12
ROYAL
I’ve been quiet. All damn weekend. I wasn’t even sure why, at first. I had the urge to tear into him and Jenny. Ask why they thought him shadowing me in Bristol, Tennessee, was such a great idea, but I wanted to focus on the race.
I wanted to show them all I could win.
But I fucked up and checked Soren’s social media. I saw the picture he posted of us at Worlds of Fun, and at first, I thought it was a pretty good picture. And then I made a rookie mistake.
I checked the comments.
God, that was stupid. I don’t know what led me to do it. But all I saw was how much his damn followers hate me. How they want me to lose. How I’m a cocky hothead—which I am, but damn.
I didn’t realize there was so much hate for me. Maybe it shouldn’t get to me. I don’t know why it did, but it did. It sucked, and it put me in a foul mood.
