Revved (Page 56)

I stare at him blankly. “Why are you telling me this?”

He blows out a breath, pushing his hands into his jean pockets. “I don’t know.” He lifts his shoulders, looking helpless.

We’ve reached the main road now, and luck is on my side because I see a cab with its light on approaching. I put my hand out to flag it down.

The cab pulls up, and I reach for the door handle, but I pause.

For the past two weeks, I’ve wanted to apologize to Carrick for what I said to him, and this might be the only chance I have.

My heart starts to beat in my chest, my fingers trembling, as I turn back to him. “Carrick…what I said in Barcelona about my job and Amy and Charlotte, I shouldn’t have said it. It was a shitty thing to say.”

“You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

“Well, still…I am sorry.” I let out a light sigh. “The worst thing is, I don’t know why I said it because that wasn’t what was at the forefront of my mind at that moment.” Not losing you was.

Gripping the handle, I stop myself from saying any more. No matter what, I don’t think anything I can say will get us back to where we were before that night.

“Anyway, thanks for walking me. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” I climb in the cab, closing the door behind me, leaving Carrick where he is standing on the street.

BECAUSE I’VE BEEN AVOIDING CARRICK and his pop princess, I didn’t go out on Friday night even though Petra had begged me to. I stood fast and stayed at the hotel with room service and Jason Bourne for company. I was in the mood for a kick-arse movie.

As it turns out, it was a good job I hadn’t gone out because Carrick and the pop princess were there. Petra has taken a real dislike to Sienna purely because of the way she’d treated me. But Petra did say Sienna had been fine with her—a bit snooty, but nothing how she had been with me.

Seems like her ultimate bitch is reserved solely for me. Or maybe she heeded what Carrick had said to her.

Petra did tell me that Carrick had barely spoken to Sienna all night, preferring to drink with the boys. She also said he’d pulled her aside and asked where I was. She said he’d looked disappointed when she told him that I wasn’t coming out. She made some white lie up for me, saying I was just feeling a little unwell, so he wouldn’t think I hadn’t gone out because of him.

See? This is why I love this girl.

I didn’t see Carrick much yesterday. I kept busy with work, and I didn’t see him until it was time to come down for qualifying. I did wish him luck as I handed him his helmet. But that was the extent of our contact.

I hate the way things are between us. I just don’t know how to get them back, so I’ve decided to give up trying.

I figure it’s for the best anyway.

I’m just counting the minutes until this weekend is over, so I can get away from them both.

But, mostly, I’m counting down the minutes until this day is over.

It’s race day, the day I’ve been dreading since I arrived here.

Petra and I did go out last night. She wasn’t taking no for an answer two nights in a row, and as it turned out, Carrick was at some sponsorship thing. The drivers always have loads of them that they have to attend throughout the racing season.

So, Petra and I went out for a few drinks with the boys, and then we broke off on our own to go have some girlie fun.

And we definitely had a lot of fun, judging by the stonking headache, dry mouth, and aching body I’ve just woken up to.

“Ugh,” I groan, rolling over, feeling like there’s a pneumatic drill going off in my head. I blink open my eyes that seem to have lost all moisture, and immediately, I close them again, squinting at the sliver of light coming in from the blinds.

I hear a similar deathly sound coming from Petra’s bed.

“Fuck,” she moans. “I’m dying. Actually dying.”

“Same here. And I’m blaming you,” I grumble. “It’s race day. I’ve got a tongue like sandpaper, and I can’t currently see straight.”

“We’ll get some coffee down you, and you’ll be fine.”

I turn my head on the pillow and give her a look. God, that hurts. “I’ll need a gallon of coffee to sort this out.” I point to my head.

“Greasy fry up and coffee, and you’ll be golden.”

“Ugh, don’t talk about fried food right now!” I cover my mouth with my hand, feeling sick. “I’m never going out drinking with you again,” I utter between my fingers.

“Hey, don’t blame me. It was your idea to drink Sambuca.”

“Was it?” I give her a look of surprise.

“Yep.”

Images of last night start to come back to me—us doing shots, singing karaoke, dancing on tables.

Ah, fuck.

“Oh God…” I sigh. “Did I make an arse of myself last night?”

“A little bit of an arse.” She chuckles. “But so did I, so you’re not alone, and it wasn’t like anyone we knew was there. But you had a good time, and it took your mind off of you-know-who and the pop princess.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I mumble.

“Look, Andi.” She rolls onto her side, facing me. “I know you said that what happened with Carrick was a one-time thing…but I just wonder if you said that because you know what he’s like, not because it’s what you wanted. Because it’s bothering you an awful lot, him being here with her.”

“It’s hardly bothering me at all.”