Chapter Three

"...I mean, you do have to wonder how June Park is feeling in all of this, given the history she has with Charlie. I can't imagine she's overly thrilled about her dad's role in this decision, if she even knew about it at all."

"Yeah, but June hasn't been spotted at a race weekend since the British GP in 2018. I doubt she even cares much anymore, especially since what happened in Austria was, terrible as it was, just an accident—"

"That took her brother's life! Look, no one's blaming anyone, but the fact is Charlie was the other driver involved that day, so we can probably assume there's some hard feelings there, resentful or not. I don't think—"

The TV shut off, bringing an end to the gossip podcast I'd come across while looking for something to watch. Turning, I found my best friend Yeona standing behind the couch, two salads balanced in one hand, the TV remote in the other, a disappointed look on her face.

"I was watching that," I told her sourly, taking the plate she offered me.

"Well, don't. That podcast is ass. You said it yourself—those guys don't know a thing about cars."

"They know plenty about cars. It's the racing they don't get. That, and they think all female F1 fans do is moon over the drivers." I stretched my arms with a yawn. "But they always have the best gossip. I just wanted to see what they were saying about this whole...family matter."

Yeona sat beside me on the couch. "Who cares what people are saying? I'm worried about how you're feeling. Especially since, you know..." She gestured toward my lip. The cut had scabbed over in the past couple of days, but the purple-green bruise that lingered made it look much more painful than it was. When I'd told her what happened, she'd all but blown her top, swearing she'd drive up to my family's estate herself and give my father a beating herself. I'd talked her down, but now she insisted on fluttering around my house at all hours of the day, entertaining me with meaningless conversation and whatever food she could scrounge into a meal for us.

I waved a hand at her now, dismissive. "I'm fine. There's not much I can do about it, so I'm just trying to...get over it, I guess? You know I don't pay much attention to all that car stuff anyway. It's not like it's going to bleed into my life much or anything. I mean, those podcast boys said it themselves—I haven't even been to a GP in years. No skin off my nose."

My best friend ignored my poor attempt at lightening the mood, shooting me a disapproving look before saying seriously, "And what about Charlie?"

I shoveled some greens into my mouth at this. "What about him?"

"Oh, come on, June. You went to his apartment. It's been, what, four years since you last spoke?"

"Five years," I corrected through a mouthful of lettuce. "Well, five and a half, really. But who's counting? And anyway," I barreled on, before she could interrupt me, "it's nothing. It was a last ditch effort and it didn't work. It's not like we're gonna be best friends or anything."

Her brown eyes cut to mine. "It wasn't friends that people thought you two were going to end up as when we were younger."

"Oh, and you think there's potential now, after everything we've been through?" I forced out a laugh. "All we are to each other is a reminder of what we both lost. I don't think either of us want to pursue something like that."

She was unconvinced, her brows arched skeptically as she chewed her food and let me squirm in the silence. Then, "So you're obviously not going to meet him for dinner on Friday, then."

"Of course not."

"That was a quick answer. You're lying."

Now I was just getting annoyed. She wasn't even wrong, really. I had been considering Charlie's dinner invite. And maybe I'd been leaning toward going. But I hadn't actually decided yet, so it wasn't fully a lie. Either way, there was nothing I could get past her, so I said as nonchalantly as I could, "Okay, so I'm unsure. I might go. But not because I've got a crush or anything. We just...are able to understand certain things about each other, so I thought maybe it'd be nice to find some, like, closure or whatever. After everything."

"Closure. Right." Yeona rolled her eyes. "So naturally you would go spend a romantic evening at that squalid little apartment of his."

I shot her a disapproving look. "Don't say that. It's a nice apartment."

"Junie," she sighed. "That man is the highest paid driver in F1 right now, and he still chooses to keep that shoebox of a place on Eighth Ave. There's not even adequate security. Someone could totally break into it if they really wanted to."

"It's a two bedroom," I said petulantly. "It's not that small. And anyway, it's not like he's there much anymore. I'm sure you'd find his place in Monaco acceptable for his tax bracket. And if that doesn't do it, I heard he bought some estate on Lake Como last year."

She smirked. "Who knew you were such a big Yang fan."

My cheeks went hot. "I'm not. The gossip's just hard to ignore sometimes."

"You're so right. Charlie Yang gossip is just irresistible."

I smacked her in the face with a throw pillow in response, annoyed. "Just shut up, would you? Stop trying to find meaning in everything. And stop shitting on his apartment. It's unbecoming. Zero class. I swear."

"Oh, who cares? It's not like he can hear me." Another smirk. "And he won't know, unless you tell him when you see him on Friday."

She shrieked as I whacked her with a pillow again, nearly spilling her salad as she flung her hands in front of her face. I gave her a good couple of hits on the arm with it before letting up. Then, slumping back against the cushions, said, "He's leaving on Sunday, anyway. Even if seeing him one last time meant something—which it doesn't—it wouldn't matter. He's leaving the States for the rest of his break. And then he'll be swallowed up by the season before we know it."

"Hey. You don't have to convince me. I get it. Life in the fast lane, right?"

"Right."

Yeona had always understood this much, at least. We'd been friends since third grade, and where my interest in motorsport was minimal, hers had always been monumental. In our teen years, it'd been most fun, crushing on the drivers and attending the occasional GP with my dad. When Joshua had entered F1, she'd been by my side to witness the highs and lows of every single race, whether we were in the paddock or at home screaming at the TV in our pajamas. Then came the crash, and the loss—and she had been there to witness this too. To watch any passion I had for the sport die with my brother. I never expected her to give it up because of me, but she did. And while I knew she still loved it—the chaos of a life in the fast lane—when we were together, she had no problem slowing things down to match me, to match the daily idleness I now sought comfort in.

This was probably the first time we'd spoken about anything remotely close to motorsport since my father had first joined Helios. And after this Friday was over with, and the initial shock of the upcoming season's circumstances had worn off, I knew we would return to this way of life again—safe and steady, with Charlie Yang and all that tragic history in the rearview once more.

I checked my reflection in the elevator mirror for the umpteenth time as the car climbed its slow ascent to the top floor of the building. It was Friday, and I had arrived at Charlie's apartment building at half past six—late, and not in a fashionable way.

It was true that I had wanted to appear unbothered by everything, clad in a plain sweater and blue jeans, with minimal makeup and my hair down. I'd also planned it so that I would be there a little past six—maybe a couple minutes after the hour. But then I'd missed my intended bus, and had to wait another twenty minutes for the next one. Now I just seemed rude.

If Charlie was bothered by this, he hid it well. His smile was warm when he answered the door, dimples cutting deep into either cheek. "June," he said, stepping back to let me in. "I'm glad you're here. I almost thought you weren't coming."

I slipped my shoes off. "Sorry, I missed my bus."

"I could've picked you up."

"The last thing I want is to have your custom car spotted outside my apartment. It'd be a media field day, and not one I'm interested in." Attempting to swallow some of my nerves, I held up the bottle of wine I'd gone back for—the reason I'd missed my bus in the first place. "I brought refreshments."

He took it from me with a kiss to my cheek. "You're a saint. I literally was thinking about how I had nothing for us to drink tonight."

"And the meal? What's on the menu, chef?"

"Steak bites." His smile was a little sheepish. "And garlic green beans. Not very exciting but I promise it'll taste good."

I offered him a reassuring look from where I lingered awkwardly at the counter. "Honestly, I've been really horrible at making my own meals lately, so anything homecooked is going to be a hit with me. Swear."

"I'm so happy you said that. I was feeling a little pressured here."

This was no surprise. Sometimes I felt like Charlie Yang saw everything as a challenge for him to get through. The last time he'd cooked for me was when Joshua and I had spent a weekend at his family's lake house, and I could've sworn he'd spent about twenty minutes on an hour-long meal prep, racing around the kitchen at top speed and never, ever measuring a single ingredient.

Now was much the same. He was pushing the green beans around in the skillet with so much force, they kept falling out onto the stovetop. And his kitchen was criminally messy, with what must've been every cooking utensil dirty and discarded in various places across the marble countertop.

Still, it was charming somehow—I liked how he looked with flushed cheeks, his wavy hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. Familiarity tightened in my chest. Turning away from him, I put some distance between us, moving toward the large windows that overlooked the city, staring at this view instead.

Winter nights were always pitch black, but never in Vivienne, and certainly not from this height. Everything was aglow at this level, bright up close and winking in the distance. Cars moved quickly along the illuminated streets with an occasional honk of a horn, and at a slower pace were the pedestrians that pebbled the sidewalks.

When I was younger, I used to feel on top of the world here. It wasn't even the height of the building—I had been in skyrises double the size—but there was something special about this place specifically. I was far enough away that no one was ever looking up to find me, but close enough that I could witness every singular instance passing by.

And it was much more soothing than watching Charlie's poor attempt at cooking.

"Still the same, right?" His voice broke the silence as he joined me at the window, passing me a glass of wine. His eyes were fixed somewhere in the distance, the look in his eyes too far away to measure. "That's the one comforting thing about Vivienne. It's so slow to change."

"Bold words from a guy whose job is to speed."

His lips slanted in a smile, but his gaze remained unfocused, his mind still elsewhere. "Not everything in my life is a race, June."

"Really? Because I just watched you violate a pan of green beans like there was a record to beat."

Finally, he looked right at me. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing; the world just sort of blinked away as our eyes met and I could feel my face beginning to heat with a flush. I gulped down most of my wine like a silent, retroactive excuse. He said after an agonizingly long beat, "I can't even remember the last time I stopped by here."

"I can't remember either." The lump growing in my throat gave my words a sort of tightness that I couldn't bring myself to explain away. "It's been too long, though."

He studied me over the rim of his glass as he took a long drink. Then, "I think it's just hard to be here. Too many memories."

I shrugged. "They fade with time."

The truth was, they didn't really. It was just a matter of avoiding anything that really set off a memory. If you knew the places to dodge, nothing could really haunt you much. On the flip side of course, being thrust right back into a place loaded with ghosts was far from easy to cope with, which was why I was struggling to hold conversation while I chugged down the rest of my wine.

Charlie remedied the extended pause by gesturing toward the kitchen. "Well, anyway, I finished dinner if you're ready to eat."

In truth, I was ready to go. It'd been a mistake to come here, and I wasn't quite sure why I had even bothered—I knew the reality of our situation, and was hardly surprised by the solemnity of it all. It was just as I had expected, but also somehow worse, because Charlie was so unbearably handsome and familiar and tragic. But I followed him to the kitchen all the same, refilling my wine glass and topping his off as he plated our meal.

We ate facing each other, me seated on a barstool, with him leaned against the other side of the counter. "It's good," I offered in the silence, washing down the steak with another hefty chug of wine. "Flavor and everything."

His lips quirked in an amused half-smile. "Thanks, June."

I hadn't eaten all day because of the nerves, and so the wine was going straight to my head. It was what gave me the confidence to blurt out brazenly, "So why'd you invite me over anyway? It's not like we're friends anymore."

He shrugged. "I don't know. It just felt like the right thing to do." My stomach flip-flopped under the stare he pinned me with. "And anyway, maybe you haven't missed me, but I've missed you. Seeing you on New Year's—I guess it just brought back everything I was running from."

"And what exactly are you running from?" The words were out before I could stop them, and I kicked myself inwardly for voicing the question aloud. I didn't want him to think I actually cared or anything.

Charlie just shrugged again, downing the rest of his wine. "The past, I guess. Losing Josh. I always felt like my grief was unbearable, so I can only imagine how hard it was for you, too. I didn't want to leave you alone with everything, you know. But I felt so guilty. And scared." His smile turned bitter. "I always just figured being a coward was easier than finding out if I'd have to lose you too."

I looked away. "I don't blame you, Charlie. I never did. I would've pushed you away at first, probably, and it was too hard to see you after everything. But I'd have gotten over it." The lump in my throat choked me up, but I forged on, because this was the last time I planned on seeing him and I was already three drinks in. "I am over it."

"And my decision to work with your father?"

"We all do what we have to in order to heal. I'm not going to hold it against you." My gaze shifted to him. "At first, I felt really betrayed by it. Because it felt like we were all just being forced back into our grief. But I get it now. I understand you, I mean."

He moved his wine glass back and forth along the countertop, mulling my words over. I watched him do this, captivated in our nearness. There were a million things running through his mind right now, and I could see all of them churning through all at once. Nothing I could make sense of, but visible all the same. Finally, with his palms braced on the marbled island, he leaned forward a little and said, "The first race is two months from now. If you wanted to go, I could get you a pass."

Suddenly, I felt like all the food I'd eaten was about to come back up again. I could practically feel it rising in my throat. I frowned, shook my head. "Charlie, I can't."

"If it's your dad, I already talked to him."

"It's not him. It's not about all of that." Curiosity won out even as I tried to push it down. "And what do you mean you talked to him?"

He squinted at me. "We just came to an understanding about the other day. That's all."

"Hmm." Whatever that meant. I tried not to think too hard about it, which was pretty easy it turned out, since Charlie came around the counter to stand in front of me, so close that I could feel the reach of his body heat and smell the remnants of his cologne. Then he was all I could think about. I managed to say, "Even if I wanted to be there—which I don't—I wouldn't be caught dead near Helios or anyone associated. I told you. I'm an Auden girl through and through. Always have been. That's one thing that time can't change."

He gave an annoyed shake of his head. "They're a midfield team on a good day."

"And yet they outperformed Helios last season. Seems to me like you'll be fighting for points this season, just like them." I gave him my best dazzling smile. "Say bye bye to podiums, hot rod."

When I was younger, I had mastered the art of getting under Charlie's skin. Little had changed in this regard; I could see his annoyance growing, which only made things funnier. My laugh cut short as he moved even closer, though, then withered altogether as he reached out and touched his thumb to the corner of my lip—right where my father had struck me.

It was just a scab and some discoloration now, both of which I'd done my best to cover up with makeup before I'd come here, but remnants of it still peeked through, and when he touched the wound, it somehow still felt tender. "He'll never do that again," he murmured, a touch of heat in his amber gaze. "I promise."

"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep, Yang."

He ignored this. "Come to Australia, Junie. One race. The first race. That's all I'll ask of you ever, I swear."

"I guess my dad would really hate that," I mused, feigning an airiness that really did not exist while Charlie still stood so close, his thumb still against the corner of my mouth. "I'll think about it. How about that?"

"I'll take it."

I looked up at him and let his gaze swallow me whole. He was an easy person to drown in, and between the wine and the low light, I could already feel myself getting swept away. Right up into his orbit. Like it was natural, or something. "I should go," I told him. "It's late."

His breath fanned across my skin as he nodded and said, "Sure. I'll drive you."

"Not in that eyesore of a car, you won't."

"Eyesore? Ouch. It's not that bad."

Neither of us was moving. And while I knew that I should, because distance was safe and Charlie was chaos, I didn't. I just stayed there looking at him, taking him all in, committing every detail I held about him to memory. The curl across his forehead. His set jaw and pink cheeks. The sturdiness of his lean frame, the uneven rise and fall of his chest with each breath.

"I used to come up with a hundred different ways to make you fall in love with me," I said, because I couldn't really help it. Whenever he stared at me, I felt like I should turn myself inside out for him. "I thought it was so exciting—the prospects of us together. Mostly because I never really loved racing like the rest of my family did, but you always made me feel like I could. Love it, I mean."

He swallowed hard, throat bobbing. "It wouldn't have taken a hundred ways," he said quietly.

"Yeah?" I cocked my head, egged on by the wine. "How many do you think?"

For a moment, I thought he might actually answer me. His lips parted as if to reply, then shook his head, taking a step back from me and turning away. "I'll drop you a block from your house if you'd rather," he said.

I shot to my feet, mustering a laugh. "Honestly, I'll just take the bus back. It gives me a little time in solitude."

He shot me an unimpressed look. "I don't think so, June. It's dark out."

It'd been dark when I'd arrived too, but I didn't bother pointing that out to him. If one thing had remained the same about Charlie, it was his stubbornness. Once that solemn look came over him, I knew there would be no changing his mind. So, with a sigh, I followed him to the door, slipping on my shoes. "Just go easy on the gas pedal," I told him as we departed his apartment.

"I'm a law-abiding citizen. Don't worry."

To his credit, he didn't go higher than ten over while we wove through the streets of Vivienne, but he had a habit of whipping around corners that made me dig my nails into the leather of his seat. When we were younger, I remember thinking it was the most attractive thing about him—how he could make driving look so easy, even when it felt like the car could up and flip at any moment. Sometimes, he and Joshua would take me with them while they sped down the empty freeway at two in the morning, the two of them wheezing with laughter while I shrieked from the backseat. Now, everything was just a reminder of how much some things had changed. How much others hadn't.

There were years of absence between us now, yet I still knew exactly how he'd hold the wheel, how he'd spin it with the heel of one hand, his bracelets winking under the yellow streetlights. My chest tightened as I watched him, not wanting to look at him for a single moment longer, but being unable to tear my gaze from him all the same.

He parked in the loading zone outside my apartment building. "It's late," he said when I frowned a little. "No one's out. No one's going to see you go inside."

He was right. The streets were empty, no potential witnesses in sight. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I turned to him, setting a tentative hand on his arm. "It was good to see you," I whispered, giving him a squeeze. "Thank you for dinner."

His face was impassive as he stared back at me, and after a beat, he placed his hand over mine, fingers brushing against my skin. "I'll always be here for you," he said. "I know not much is the same, but that'll never change."

It was time to say goodbye, but I couldn't bring myself to do that. So, with one last smile, I climbed from his car. "I'll think about Australia," I said, leaning down so he could see me. "Get home safe tonight."

"Stay in touch," he replied.

This, I couldn't promise. So I left it at that, climbing the stairs to my building and letting myself in. While I waited for the elevator, I hazarded one last glance through the glass doors to where he was still parked. He flashed his lights three times when I looked, as if in a final, wordless farewell. Then, peeling away from the curb, he sped down the street, turned the corner, and was lost once more to the night.

a/n: please vote and/or comment if you enjoyed ! i am doing my best to upload around once a weekish, but please bear with me ! i am starting a new job next week so it might be a little delayed but i will still try very hard to be consistent for u all :3 i hope you are all doing well and happy aapi month !!! much love em xo