chapter fifteen

self-sabotage

If there was anything that I expected to wake up to on a Sunday morning, it was not a text from Tsukasa Takajo asking if it was still okay for him and a few of the Oya guys to come over and watch the Singapore Grand Prix in my living room.

So naturally I said yes, then overthought every single action. Was the living room clean enough? What should I wear? Are those jeans too loose? This sweater too baggy?

"What do you think, Pierre?" I said softly, looking at the shorthaired cat curled up on by bed. "Do you think Tsukasa likes me?"

Pierre just mewled in response.

"Thanks for nothing." I chuckled, untucking my Enchante sweater and pushing open my bedroom door. The race was set to start in two hours, although SkySports Japan was reporting that it was likely to be delayed due to a torrential downpour in Singapore.

And there was still so much to do if I was going to have company for the race. My mom was working another shitty shift, but she'd promised to stop by a pet store and grab a few things for our new addition.

I still wasn't sure how I felt about Tsukasa coming over. Race days had always been something I did on my own, and it felt deeply personal to let him in on it. On the other hand, we'd already shared a bed. He'd already seen me in one of my most shameful moments.

Pierre trailed behind me while I fussed about the kitchen, getting race day snacks together. And this might sound sad, but usually when I watched a Grand Prix, I curled up on the couch with a hot chocolate and a bag of Rose Gold pretzels. Depending on how early it was, sometimes I didn't even turn on the living room lights. So putting out large plastic bowls of chips and vegetable or fruit trays was a foreign feeling. Actually, once I thought about it, I realized that it had been years since anyone other than Yasushi, Madoka or Yui had been in the apartment.

I laid the platters and bowl out on the coffee table, changing my mind about the setup four or five times before giving in, wiping my hands on my jeans and flicking on the TV to see Martin Brundle, David Croft and Jenson Button standing underneath one of the overhangs at the Paddock, trying to stay dry as the Singapore rain threw it down behind them.

"Oh, Jenson. You beautiful, beautiful man." I breathed, looking at the flat screen television in front of me.

Jenson Button is old enough to be my father, married, and has children, just so you dear readers are aware.

There was a knock on the front door that made me jump, my heart beating out of my chest as the anxiety truly began to set in. Was it too late to tell Tsukasa that this was a bad idea? Pierre mewled from the couch, pawing at my leg before he leaped off the sofa, padding over to the door.

I guess my cat is making decisions for me now.

I opened the door slowly, expecting just to see Tsukasa on the other side, eyes widening when I saw that, standing on the balcony with him, was an army of the students from Oya, some clutching soda bottles and others gripping glass trays that likely either came from Midori Yamada or their mothers.

"Uh, hi?" I said, confusion bleeding into my voice. "Takajo, why are there like, more than ten people standing behind you?"

The blonde laughed, a little bit of a blush creeping into his cheeks. "They wanted to come. Fujio wanted someone to watch racing with, and I'm not sure why the other fuckers are here."

"Hey!" Nakaoka shouted, emerging from behind Tsuji. "That's not nice!"

I noticed that Shibaman wasn't standing outside. Rumor had it that Shizuka had been dodging school all week. I felt sorry for the two of them. They were young and in love, and not ready for all of the bullshit that the world was throwing at them. No wonder Tsuji didn't want to be home. I had half a mind to go over to that side of the complex to talk to Shizuka, let her know that not everybody was against her.

"Has the race started yet?" Fujio chirped, shouldering his way inside. "The satellite on our side of the tower is on the fritz so I haven't been able to watch it."

"No, they're still waiting out the rain. Hamilton's not happy, he thinks they should be out there racing on the wets."

"What's the point of wet weather tyres if you don't use 'em?"

"Um, Jules Bianchi's accident!" I shouted back at the boy before turning to everybody else. "You might as well come inside. The delayed start is almost up, if Ted Kravitz is to be believed."

"I hope you know you have a lot of explaining to do for these guys." Tsukasa grinned. "But I can't wait to hear all about it. And hear you yell at them to shut up."

I hoped that the group couldn't see the visible flush on my face as they all headed inside the apartment, orderly single-file in a way that I had never seen before from anybody at Oyakou.

"I brought dumplings." Nakaoka offered, passing me the Pyrex container in his hands. "Okay, technically my mom made them, but she says hi!"

"Um, okay!" I laughed, taking the small container. It was still warm.

Yasushi was at the back of the pack, a smug grin on his face. No doubt that he had heard all about my little incident with the blonde and now he wanted to see for himself what all the fuss was about. And of course, he was also likely partially responsible for the entourage in the living room.

"I thought you said racing was dumb."

"Pssh, I never said that!" He tried to play dumb, hands in his pant pockets. 

I cocked my head, shooting him a knowing look. "Your exact words were 'it's just twenty average dudes that get paid far too much, sitting in little tin can go-karts and driving in circles'"

I wished I could wipe the shit-eating grin off his face. "Okay, maybe I didn't appreciate it enough at the time."

"Sure, you did." I stared at the ground, ushering him inside before closing the front door behind me. Lowering my voice, I looked back at him. "Thanks for being here. I don't know if I could have handled this on my own."

"You don't give yourself enough credit, Sakura. They love you."

I blushed, brushing a strand of stray hair behind my ear, leaning against the grey wall behind me, slotting my feet in the niche where the plastic dollar-store shoe rack met the small part of wall left next to the front door. In all the excitement, I had forgotten to tell everybody to take their shoes off.

I'm sure my mother will forgive me in the excitement of her daughter possibly having a social life.

"Sakura-chan!" Fujio's voice carried from the living room. "They're lining up on the grid!"

"Who's this old fucker with the umbrella and the scowl? And why is his car pink!" The voice I was pretty sure belonged to Toya Shiratori followed shortly after

"That's Fernando Alonso!" I shouted back with a laugh. "Give me ten minutes and I'll give you a run-down of who everybody is and how the hierarchy works."

"Go be a nerd. You'll have them fawning over you in no time."

I'm sure Yasushi was right, but there was only one faction member who's attention I wanted. I just hoped that my nerd vomit wouldn't result in mw making a fool out of myself in front of Tsukasa.