I was stupid. Very, very stupid.

After nearly getting killed by Sacrilege, I made the stupid decision to open up. Who in their right mind would ever do that? How frazzled was I?

And Drake just encouraged me the entire time. I would have rather had him walk in on me while I was naked. At least I looked pretty good like that. No one looked good talking about stupid shit they've been through.

As much as I wanted to pack all of my things and flee back to Baton Rouge, I couldn't let myself. I let myself be vulnerable around Drake, and if anyone mentioned it from that point on, I would just make a giant scene. That way, they would learn to shut up about it.

I had already run away once (which was obviously with good reason). I couldn't bring myself to do it again.

Fortunately, I had my stupid moment right when Sacrilege needed fixed, so everyone was distracted by that. Drake and Josiah were out in the garage, and metallic clinks rang all throughout the house. If the situation weren't so dire, I probably would have offered an extra set of hands, but tensions were high especially after our esteemed leader didn't listen to our tolerated jackass.

For once, I wasn't number one on Josiah's Worst People Alive list. If only I gave a shit.

With the Cleveland tournament on the horizon, it wasn't clear whether we'd have a perfect robot to compete. But that didn't really bother me. Truscott gave me a shitty car for the All-Star Race and I still made that work. Instead, I was more worried about the whole Cleveland part. It was a shithole, and I tried to avoid Ohio for obvious reasons.

If I had to pick my least favorite place in the world, though, it still would have been Talladega. And Michigan.

Annie was working late at the craft shop to bring in a little extra money. Old habits die hard, I supposed. I was left without anyone's supervision, and no one would even notice if I slipped out and never came back—

No, Katie.

But since everyone else was occupied, I realized that I never got the chance to explore London, Ontario. It seemed like a cute place (for Canada, at least), and there had to have been something going on in town. I wasn't tied to the Sacrilege house like I was before because I had my car, and I needed something to get my mind away from everything.

I had never spent so much time stressing in the past, and I would have been damned if I did it now. With stress came wrinkles and heart attacks. No thanks.

I headed out the front door and to my car, and even though I had no idea where exactly I was going, I headed off. That was just how I liked to live.

When I went out, I usually ended up in a sports bar, and this was no exception. People who had nothing besides an unhealthy love of competition and good times were just my type, and they seemed to know me. I never paid for drinks, courtesy of all the men who knew damn well they didn't have a shot with me. Maybe things would be different in Canada, but probably not. There was an empire built on my name, and Katie Moore knew it.

There were TV screens that lit up the dark with all the summer tournaments of hockey games (seriously, Canada?), soccer, Formula One, tennis, baseball, and finally, some hype for the next NASCAR race. Tyler Bailey sat with the hosts of NASCAR Tonight, and just like usual, he didn't smile at all while he talked. It was like he was allergic to having any sort of fun.

Jackass.

The dialogue popped up on the bottom of the screen in black boxes. I didn't go out for a fucking reading lesson, and everything that came out of his lying mouth was irrelevant anyway.

Instead of paying any attention to that shit show, I ordered a Cosmopolitan.

Well, that was one drink I was paying for. My fool-proof plan had failed me.

My phone rang, and I looked down to see it was Griffin. Oh, thank God. I needed something to boost my ego.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Are you watching NASCAR Tonight? Tyler Bailey's on," Griffin asked.

"I'm watching his mouth move. They have the subtitles on in this bar, and you know I'm not reading that shit." I looked up at the screen. "Seriously, though, how did you not tell me that he's a piece of shit? I dated him for a year, Griffin. A year."

"Well, right now, he's tearing into you. Called you out for cheating and said he's worried about your health. It's unlike you to win and disappear with no media appearances."

"We all need to stop going on that show drunk. We give them way too much ammo on us like that," I said. "Oh, shit. Cheating? He knows damn well that I didn't. I should have, but I didn't."

"I don't know how he still thinks that. We've made it pretty clear that we're not dating," he said.

I shook my head. "God, I need another drink. Why the hell isn't someone buying me one? Am I suddenly ugly?"

"You're in Canada. Maybe they don't know you as well as Americans do."

"I'm a feminist icon for fuck's sake. Why don't they know me?"

"How many drinks have you had?" Griffin asked.

"This is my first one, I swear. I'm just–" My breath hitched. "I'm just so sick of this. If I make a big scene, people are worried about me, and if I keep quiet and disappear, I get the same response. I'm going back to making a scene. That's much more fun."

"Tweet that Tyler has a tiny dick," Griffin said.

I laughed before I could start crying. "I'm gonna. I'm done with everyone's shit, Griffin. Done."

If I was damned if I did and damned if I didn't, then I was going to enjoy myself and do. And if it won me a contract, then I'd do half of my talking on the track like the good old days.

I wasn't dumb enough to believe those people actually cared about me. They either cared about how I could race for them or how much shit I could stir up for a moment of attention. I was pretty damn good at both when given the opportunity.

"Alright, well, I'm gonna let you get back to whatever you were doing. I just wanted to make sure you knew that your ex-boyfriend is worried about your sanity and that he's still worthless," Griffin said.

I laughed. "I've known the second part for a while, Griffin. I still don't why you didn't tell me that when we were still dating."

"I just figured you could make your own decisions. If it went any further, though, I would have definitely said something. You can't get serious with someone like him."

The sad thing was that I watched as Annie did something similar. What could I do though? I tried to tell her, but she made her own decisions, and I couldn't control that.

Not going for me was her loss anyway. I was a fucking miracle to be around.

"You're right. I don't think I'll ever get to that serious point with anyone, though, so you don't have to worry about that," I said.

Griffin chuckled a little. "Yeah, me neither. I can barely handle having a serious best friend. I get super jealous when she's away."

I smiled. "These nerds won't replace you. It's certainly bold of you to assume I'm capable of forming interpersonal relationships."

He hesitated for a moment, and the silence lingered between the two of us. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Call me tomorrow when you get the chance. I know you're busy, but I miss you. It hasn't even been a week, and I–" I trailed off. I wasn't even sure how I planned on finishing that sentence, but I knew it would hurt. "Bye, Griffin."

We both hung up, and I bit down on my lip and stared at the phone screen. I hated having two places to be. It was miserable, and I never knew what to do. I loved it.

What the hell was making it so difficult? I was a racer with a fighting spirit, yet I couldn't even make myself fit into either place I wanted to be. No matter where I was—fighting robots or racing cars—the other option always seemed like the better one.

The room darkened a little as one of the TVs went to a commercial break, and I looked up from my phone. Tyler's interview was over, and the wooden paneling on the wall, decorated with all sorts of sports memorabilia, closed in on me. All eight million of Josiah's clocks ticked in the back of my mind, and—

"Excuse me, but are you Katie Moore?" a dark-haired man with a pen tucked behind his ear came up to me and asked.

I smiled as the walls froze in their places. Finally.

***

"So if he just fired you because he hates women, why would he sign another woman to take your place?" the unnamed man asked me. He fiddled with his phone, which rested on the surface of the bar.

I shrugged, and as my head moved, the rest of my surroundings moved twice as far. "I have no idea. Probably because he wants to see her fail too."

"I don't think that's it," he said and turned to the bartender. "Can I get two more daiquiris, one frozen?"

"Well, he drug tested me seven times in eleven races. Out of forty-something drivers, it doesn't add up," I said.

"That's true. He definitely wanted you gone, but was it because he just hates women? No."

"I don't know what other reason there is. I'm fucking great."

Who didn't love me? I was brutally honest, sexy as hell, fun to be around, and honest. And hot. What more did anyone want?

"You are," he said, and before he could say anything more, I changed the subject.

"So now I fight robots, which is kinda cool. It just sucks because I miss Griffin all the damn time. It was like he was the one thing that kept me sane, and now that he isn't there, I feel empty."

And as soon as I went back to him and racing, I felt guilty. What kind of bullshit was that?

"There's no reason a beautiful woman like you should ever feel empty," he said.

Jesus Christ, dude, I was here for the drinks, not your stupid ass.

"Fuck, that just fixed it. Thank you so much," I said.

He laughed. "I just meant that if you want to feel something, you should come home with me."

The bartender set our drinks in front of us, and I spoke before a drunker future me would get me into more trouble than I wanted. "Yeah, I don't really think so. DM me on Instagram when I'm in a better mood, and we'll work something out from there."

Was it weird that I just wanted to vent to this guy? Sure, he had the privilege of listening to Katie Moore, and the more I blabbed to him, the less I'd blab to Drake or something. I had already told this stranger too much, but it felt good, just like it did in the moment with Drake. Heat flushed through my cheeks, and I smiled. Hopefully, he was okay with an investment rather than an immediate payout.

"We'll do that then," he replied.

Oh, thank God. For once, I had attracted a somewhat rational guy.

"I should really get going." I took a sip from the straw in my drink. "I kinda just left my nerd friends at home and didn't tell them where I'd be. I hope they're still distracted by the robot."

"You're not driving, are you?" he asked.

I swatted the air and the glass, which tipped over and spilled. "I'll be fine. I'm a professional driver for fuck's sake." Oh shit. The drink. "You know, maybe I'm not fine."

"You should probably call one of your nerd friends," he said.

My God, what a gentleman. Another heat wave washed over me.

"Yeah, make sure you DM me on Insta. I'm looking forward to it," I said as I pulled out my phone to call Drake, but all of the words on the screen blurred together. I shut one eye. Better.

At least this time I didn't run away from Sacrilege. I just took a quick vacation.

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Hello! Thank you so much for reading! I really don't feel like this chapter was all that great, but I'm just happy to have something done for this week.

My slacker ass also doesn't have a decent question right now, so I'm just going to ask who is your favorite celebrity and why?

My favorite is probably Carrie Fisher. I know she's unfortunately no longer with us, but she was such an icon. She was real and open with her struggles, and she carried herself with such confidence. Plus, Star Wars was a huge part of my childhood. I just love her.