Jump Start

5. Five

Five

Harper

A t home, I force-fed myself a quick dinner rather than falling face first on my bed and calling it a day. Soon, it would be my last day at Echidna Racing, and I was more than glad to be finished. I wished things could have gone differently with Thomas. To me, it felt like there was more to him than he was letting on. I knew there was. I could see it on his face as I left his ute earlier—he felt bad.

I guess it wasn’t really up to me. I could be as nice as pie to him, and he would still not give me the time of day.

“You can’t win ‘em all, darling.” That’s what my dad would always say to me. I missed my family so much. I was looking forward to going up to visit them soon.

***

My eyes bounced open well before my alarm went off due to my early bedtime. I made a coffee and decided to put the finishing touches on my Henry-Jackson story, ready for Chris to evaluate before sending it off for editing. Overall, the members of Echidna Racing were incredibly friendly, welcoming, and informative. I was certain my piece was going to be great despite the tension with its lead subject. I was, after all, still a professional, even if he wasn’t willing to be.

Pulling my car into the lot, I noticed Thomas’s large dual-cab was already there. He didn’t usually waltz in until another hour or so. Great . He’d be in the office.

I breezed through the front door confidently, greeting people as I headed up the stairs and into his office. He wasn’t there, so I quickly set my gear up on his desk. I was on the phone to Harry while absentmindedly moving my mouse around my laptop when the door flung open, and Thomas walked in carrying a huge basket of sponsored goods. I watched him struggle as car washing products fell from the basket but didn’t offer to help, pretending to be very into my phone call.

Once Harry hung up, I even considered pretending to talk, just to avoid helping Thomas. But in the end, I decided that was childish. I started to help and picked up the trail of products he’d left in his path.

“Morning, what’s all this then?” I asked as I placed the chamois on the brown leather couch.

“Morning, sponsorship gift, although I have all this at home. I’ll have to start selling it on the black market.”

I scrunched my nose up at him. “Was that a joke that just came out of your mouth?” I asked with a quizzical expression. He’d never made a joke that wasn’t at my expense.

He nodded and smiled wryly. “If you have to ask, then maybe not.”

Pausing for a moment, he pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to me.

“Harper, I’m sorry for upsetting you this week. I’ve been a huge asshole to you and I am really sorry for that. ”

He handed me a block of chocolate, his hand lightly grazing mine as I collected it. Looking up at him, I smiled.

“Well, thank you, I appreciate that. Maybe we can be friends after all this?”

He smirked again, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “Friends. Sure thing.”

I placed the chocolate on the table and moved in closer to him, invading his space. I half expected him to move a step backward but instead, he leant in.

“It’s going to take a lot more than chocolate to make up for how much of a prick you were. However, I am willing to be the recipient of many different forms of grovelling from you,” I said in a mock-serious tone, ending my sentence with a wink and a swift step back.

Thomas’s breath caught for a split second. He smiled widely and his freckles seemed to dance around his face as he did.

“Challenge accepted, Allenwright.” And then he turned and silently went back to tidying up the mess of products on the couch. I wasn’t quite sure, but I could have sworn he was blushing.

I was looking forward to seeing how he might try to make this up to me. He was ever so slightly beginning to soften towards me, and I liked the way it felt to see him smile in my direction without a hint of irony .

Thomas

Today was press day, whether I liked it or not. All of the year’s promotional shoots for the television broadcasts had been done, and today was just some extra promo for whatever Echidna might need during the season. I grinned and bared it as best I could. I just wasn’t a photo guy, even my friends and family would have trouble getting me to smile in a group photo. My teammate, Will, thrived in this side of the role—smiling and joking, happy to do whatever Holly asked him.

Usually, putting on my race suit was a thrill—the thought of the race to come, putting our strategies into action, the sound of the engine ringing in my ears, changing the gears in quick succession. It was where I was meant to be. Not here.

“Okay, Thomas, fantastic. Just hold your helmet there on your hip, yes, give us a smile.”

God, I hated this shit.

“I am smiling,” I said, probably a little too monotone for the photographer’s liking. I could see Harper standing off to the side by the lighting reflector, the look on her face undecipherable. I rolled my eyes at her dramatically and a smirk formed in the corner of her mouth. That was something, at least.

I wanted to break through the walls I had created, and at least be her friend. Although I was starting to think that I wanted more.

No, I knew I wanted more.

I just needed my actions to follow. I would get there. I needed more time.

I threw a dazzling smile towards the camera, just for Harper’s sake, which earned me a smile. She hid it behind the clipboard she was holding, and I wanted to yell out and tell her not to hide that beautiful smile of hers. And don’t even get me started on the sound of her laugh.

I had noticed a feeling of ease whenever Harper was in the room. I felt like I could relax my shoulders a little more and exhale a little deeper.

As I watched Harper out of the corner of my eye, I thought back to how testing day had ended. As I watched Harper walk to her car after our conversation, I knew she had tears in her eyes. Why the hell did I do that? She had nothing to do with the shit from my childhood. It’s not like she was one of the journalists always bugging my parents. I felt the constant urge to apologise to her over and over.

As I pulled into my driveway later in the evening, Xavier called.

“What’s the haps, little bro?” he asked just as I turned my car off and the Bluetooth disconnected without warning.

I plugged in my earphones and shoved my phone into my pocket to continue talking.

“How goes it with the journalist?” he continued, not letting me answer the first question.

I filled him in on how much of a prick I’d been to Harper, that the regret was starting to leave a bad taste in my mouth.

“Look, I understand why you hate the media so much, but you’re going to have to deal with it, mate. It’s part of your life now. Move past the shit that happened when we were kids. And this Harper girl sounds hot as hell. What is your problem?” His voice was getting louder with each syllable as a tool went off in the background on his end .

“I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me,” I replied in jest, causing Xavier to laugh.

“You’ve always been standoffish to people you don’t know; I get it. There were a lot of fake people hanging around our family, and I know you’ve been burnt before by girls. This one doesn’t sound that way. In fact, it doesn’t sound like she gives a shit about your past or our family.”

“She hasn’t said much, but I haven’t exactly tried to fire up a lot of conversation either. When I have, it’s not gone particularly well.” I sat down at my racing sim, waiting for it to start up, hands on the steering wheel.

“I know, mate. Look, just give her the time of day. You won’t regret it. And if you need anyone to tell you to stop being a prick, give me a call, hey?” I laughed as I said goodbye to my brother and hung up the phone.

I knew he was right. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to redeem myself after the way I had been behaving. I wanted to somehow protect but antagonise Harper, both at the same time. What was that feeling called?