Once we touch down in Melbourne, we hit the ground running to our hotel. By the time we arrive, it's ten o'clock at night and the entire group is ready to crash. The guys share a room while I separate with Lauren. Jenny and Seira take the room across from ours.

        I face plant onto the bed closest to the window, thankful I had the foresight to forgo any makeup.

        Lauren smacks the bottom of my feet. "Girl, plug in your phone for tomorrow."

        I mumble my reply into the sheets. When she scolds me for not being able to understand, I roll onto my back, exhaling an exhausted sigh.

        "Fine," I grunt and pull myself up. It takes every ounce of strength to not immediately drop back onto the bed, but I manage to drag myself over to where I left my suitcase.

        When I rejoin her, she's texting someone. My first guess is that she's talking to Jun, but a frown forms on her face.

        "Maver?" I ask, to which she nods.

        It's no secret they have ups and downs, which is annoying but more so considering they've only ever labeled themselves as friends-with-benefits at best. If it were me, I wouldn't even bother. The long-distance nature of their relationship sucks without acknowledging it's barely a relationship in the first place.

        "He's a social climber. Dump his ass."

        Lauren sends me a sour look.

        "The least you could do is listen," she complains.

        "I'm not trying to be a bitch, but I'm going to jump to my own conclusions and say that he's annoyed you came here without inviting him since he's stuck in LA for the next two weeks."

        Her silence is a tell-all. It's not that I enjoy being right. Clearly, their disagreements rub her the wrong way and I don't enjoy seeing her upset. But it's always the same story, the same double standards. After a while, it becomes difficult to know what I'm supposed to say.

        "It's ridiculous for him to be mad at you, and you don't deserve to let this ruin your weekend. There are a bunch of hot F1 guys waiting for us at the paddock and we deserve to have fun with them. Okay?"

        "What the hell is a paddock?"

        I roll my eyes. "That wasn't the point of my pep talk."

        "Is that what you call a pep talk?"

        Lauren stares down at her phone for a few seconds as a slew of incoming texts light up the screen. Eventually, she puts the device on do not disturb and plugs it into the charger before sliding into her sheets.

        "Fine," she finally replies. "I'll wait until we get back to—"

        "Dump him."

        "—talk to him. I'm tired of all of this back-and-forth. I think it's time we figure out what's going on with us before we keep giving each other mixed signals."

        I want to grab her by the ears and scream that she's not the problem here, he is. But it's too late and we're both too tired.

        "Don't forget to set your alarm," she warns before turning off the light. "They're going to kill us if we oversleep."

        "Goodnight."

...

When we're the last ones to arrive in the lobby after waking up late, everyone glares at us.

        Jenny looks over the top of her Dior sunglasses, distaste present even in the tiniest sliver of her pale blue eyes visible above the frames.

        "It's about damn time."

        I tap the brim of her hat. "Someone hasn't had their coffee."

        She flips me off before glancing down at her phone, multitasking while she replies, "Yeah, neither have you since we all said we'd meet down here forty-five minutes ago."

        "Listen," I told my hands up, "I'm punctual when we have meetings and that's all that matters, right? I'm on vacation."

        Jenny shakes her head before opening the door of the car in the front, pulling herself up onto the seat. Jun and I follow in behind her while the rest of the group piles into the second car. Within seconds, we're pulling away from the hotel.

...

The restaurant is something straight out of a trendy magazine. With high ceilings, exposed brick, and light pouring through the tall and wide-open windows, it takes on a cathedral-like feel.

        After complaining about overpriced food, everyone groans when I order the eggs benedict, but it's a weakness I'm willing to let my hypocrisy shine through.

        Jenny pulls out her phone and does a quick reminder of our plans for race weekend. Since Friday is for practice and Saturday is qualifying day, we won't technically be "on-duty" until Saturday, but the Windsor Formula One Racing Team CEO & Team Principal both want us to stop by for a lunch on one of the earlier days.

        They've asked if we can wear something with black, white, and/or green to match the team's colors. Luckily for them, half of my wardrobe consists of those colors, though it is tempting to wear something red to mess with Brendon.

        When Jun pulls his hat over his face and rests against Lauren's shoulder, I try to hide my smile, which only proves difficult when she laughs and yanks the hat completely off his head, scolding him about his manners.

        I hardly catch their orders through their fits of laughter. Seira and Jenny both order some kind of protein bowl. Rami orders the avocado toast. And just as I'm about to rattle off my choice to the server, someone slides next to me.

        "Fancy seeing you here."

        It's too early in the morning to deal with him. I keep looking at Rami, hoping he'll take the hint to leave me alone. But it's clear from the way everyone else is staring at me that that is not the case.

        I tug on Rami's sleeve and whisper, "Is he gone yet?"

        He shakes his head just as Brendon pokes my side.

        "Oh, it's you."

        Brendon's smile is a reminder of why millions around the world have fallen at his feet in adoration. "It's me."

        "Shouldn't you be at the track or something?"

        I already know the answer. While he's been preparing for the race, press day takes place tomorrow.

        "I have some free time," he answers while scanning over the rest of the table. "How was the flight?"

        Seira rattles off how much she hated the flight, not because of the airline itself but her general distaste for flying, for which no one faults her. She's so expressive with her words and body movements that even though Brendon's arrival is a big enough surprise to warrant his own spotlight, most of the table focuses on her.

        "You should get the eggs benedict," he says, close enough I can smell the citrus and amber in his cologne. "It's good. I just had it."

        "Aren't you a little too far away from the track?" I ask. "I'm sure there's somewhere closer and less touristy for you to hang out at."

        He doesn't miss a beat. "I was having breakfast with someone. Are you trying to push me away?"

       I shrug. "Wouldn't be too difficult considering half your ass is already off the seat."

        "Are you staring at my ass?"

        "What is there to stare at?"

        Brendon laughs while feigning pain, a hand pressed to his chest. "Ouch, Stevie. Must you always bruise my ego every time we see each other?"

        "Consider it a gift from your biggest fan."

        "Oh, I do."

        The rest of the restaurant dims into a dull buzz while the two of us, unrealizing, lean in closer to speak to each other. It's not difficult considering he really is barely hanging on to his seat, and, despite my grumpy comments, I'm not genuinely looking to see him fall on his ass. There's only so much secondhand public embarrassment I can handle, even for Brendon.

Before I can ask where his friend is, he reaches down to my left arm and lifts it above the table. It isn't until after I've looked at him as if to say what-the-fuck that I realize he's staring at the gold bracelet on my arm.

          It's a shiny, yellow gold color with flowers and leaves etched around the band. In an Old English style lettering, my middle name spans across in black.

        "When Queen Lili'uokalani visited Queen Victoria's jubilee, only as a princess then, they gifted her a bracelet like this. It was supposed to symbolize the bond between our two nations. It's kind of a rite of passage now to get one at some point in your life."

        He peeks up at me through his thick band of lashes, and I feel the urge to hide from him. It's not like he asked for the history lesson, but the story came out before I realized what I was saying.

        "That's beautiful," he says. Once he's admired it for long enough, he places my arm back on my lap. "I always saw you with it, but I didn't realize what it was."

      The conversation about terrible flights is beginning to die down, and Brendon senses this. He leans in closer once again, though not enough that I feel uncomfortable about it.

        "I know I said I'd give you a tour—"

        "I don't think you did."

        "—so how about we do something tonight? I promise not to drag you off into the middle of nowhere to chop you up into a million pieces."

        "How thoughtful."

        "The least I could do for a friend. Plus, Geoff would annihilate me if I took away one of his star guests for this weekend."

        "Wouldn't want to upset your boss."

        Before I can reject his offer, he mumbles in my ear that he'll be in contact as soon as he can break free from the rest of his team. He doesn't give me a time frame or any idea as to what we're going to do, so I'm left flounderin on my own.

        When I turn back around after the only reminder that Brendon was even here are those citrus and amber notes still hanging in the air, Rami does that thing where he tries (and fails) to hide his smile.

        "Shut up," I groan.