Chapter Five
Chapter Five
"A strong start for Yang's 2024 season, and I think he's surprised us all, really. To be such a powerhouse on the track is one thing, but to do it in a midfield car is another. Truly, truly impressed these past few days. Yang has proven himself time and time again this weekend, and I can't wait to see what he brings to the race tomorrow."
I chewed on my thumbnail as I listened to the TV commentator. Quali had wrapped up nicely for Charlie, who had taken pole, and as begrudging as I was, he had earned it. It wasn't even that I wanted to see him fail—but in his proving himself, he had also validated my father, and that I definitely hated.
It was also somewhat unnerving given the fact that photos of us on Thursday night had surfaced Friday morning. Already, the internet was swept up in the rumors, and I had begun the dreaded doom scrolling sometime last night, sifting through comments and hypotheticals and enough trashy headlines to make anyone sick to their stomach.
F1 HAS FINALLY CAUGHT HER EYE! DAUGHTER AND SISTER OF RACING LEGACIES JOOHUYN AND JOSHUA PARK SPOTTED WITH 2023 WORLD CHAMPION CHARLIE YANG.
As if that weren't bad enough, the first of Charlie's interviews I'd tuned into had ended with a reporter asking him to confirm or deny the dating rumors. I'd been mortified to have my name mentioned at all on media day, much less to Charlie, who I knew had much more important and interesting things he'd want to talk about.
"I've known June a long time," was what he'd said in reply that day, with a tight jaw and an incoming frown. "I'm very protective of her. Joshua was my best friend, and I do not plan to discuss my personal relationship with her at this time."
It was dismissive enough to squash the topic of conversation, but vague enough that people began to speculate. Charlie's name was flying all over the internet now—more so than usual, at least—and this time, my name was right there beside his. It hadn't been like this since we were in our late teens, and the idea of being put under the microscope again made my stomach churn.
As if to add fuel to the fire, my father had been blowing up my phone since the first news story had broken, calling almost every other half hour—presumably in between or in the midst of all the meetings he had—never leaving a voicemail, instead letting the implications of him reaching out hang over my head.
I knew he was banking on intimidating me away. It was the tactic he'd always used, and maybe before New Year's and Charlie, it would've worked. But now I was here, and for just one weekend, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of pushing me to the edge.
It was why, despite my gut and all my logic urging me to stay away, I picked up the phone when Charlie called me late Saturday night.
I'd even been planning to head to bed early, having showered and climbed beneath the covers when my phone lit up on the nightstand, a beacon in the dark. "Shouldn't you be sleeping by now?" I asked by way of hello, rolling onto my back to stare at the ceiling. A strange feeling swelled in my chest as I waited for him to respond.
After a long beat, he said, "Yeah. I should be. But I'm not sure I can until I see you."
"Isn't it bad luck to see the driver before their big day?"
"Ha ha. I thought maybe I could swing by where you're staying and drop off your pass for tomorrow. Again, no pressure about going. I just want you to have it."
Charlie, in my hotel room? Talk about a bad idea. I'd eaten chips on the couch this afternoon, so there were crumbs everywhere. My suitcase was practically lost under the mound of worn clothes I'd piled lazily on top of it, my socks discarded all throughout the house. I had two bikinis hanging on the shower rod to dry. And that was all I could actively think of.
"I'm at Tower 8," I told him after a too long beat. "That's, like, a ten-minute walk from where you are."
"And how do you know where I am?" he teased.
"You forget who my family is." Pulling myself out of bed, I crossed the room to the window, peeking through the curtains to look out at the city. "I don't want to be the reason you can't give a hundred percent tomorrow. It's the first race of the season, you know?"
I heard rustling on the other end of the line. "I mean, I'd be the reason I can't give a hundred percent tomorrow," he said.
"Okay," I told him decisively then, quickly, before I could think too much about the implications or regret my decision. "I'm in room 2503. But I'm limiting you to thirty minutes. From the moment you leave your place."
"Yes, ma'am. Ten minutes to see you. Understood."
He hung up before I could muster a response. In the time it took for him to walk over, I hurriedly cleared away the mess, which really just involved me shoving things out of sight. A knock sounded on my door six minutes after Charlie had hung up, and when I swung it open, I found him on the other side, breathing deeply, a grin on his face. "I jogged," he said by way of hello, sweeping into my apartment with only the slightest touch to my hand. "Made good time, too."
I pulled the hem of my t-shirt down as I followed him to the couch, realizing belatedly that I hadn't put a presentable outfit on, my sleep shorts leaving little to the imagination. Whatever. It wasn't like he hadn't seen me prance around in a bikini before, although that was years ago. And, anyway, it wasn't as though Charlie Yang were a virgin. He'd seen plenty of women naked, so I doubted my bare legs were really going to set him off.
Still, I seated myself on the complete other end of the couch, tucking my legs up under me as I said, "Time's ticking, hot rod."
"Right." He dug a lanyard pass out of his pocket, tossing it on the coffee table before us. "Well, here's that. Just in case. And then I thought we could spend the rest of my allotted session with you talking about whatever you want."
My lips curled into a half-smile. "Your allotted session."
"Yes, Ms. Time Limit. My session."
I shrugged. "Well, I don't know. I don't have much to talk about, really. I've just been holed up in here since I last saw you. You're the one having the super exciting weekend or whatever."
He cast me an amused look. "Or whatever?"
"You know what I mean."
"Yeah. I do." Charlie sat back against the couch cushions, tucking his hands behind his head, eyes on the ceiling. "Honestly, it's been such a blur. And absolutely insane, too. I won't lie—I always drive the best I can and hope to win, but I wasn't expecting to do so well. Especially not the first week. No one's more surprised than I am. Truly."
"I don't know... You have the media in a bit of a tizzy."
"I do?" His voice was incredulous. "You do. They're losing their heads over you being here. Everyone's talking about it."
I slanted a look in his direction, skeptical. "It's not really about me, though. They don't actually care that I'm here. Or anywhere, for that matter. They only care about how it reflects on whoever they're interested in. Joshua. My dad. You. It's the way it's always been."
"I don't think that's true—"
"Charlie, you're the best driver on the grid, right now. You've just made a life altering career change that's shocked everyone already. I'm just the girl with the famous dad. The girl with a dead brother." Forging on before he could cut in, I added, "How is he doing, anyway? My dad, I mean. Treating you right?"
He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. Maybe the dead brother comment had been a bit much, given our history, but it was the truth. "Your dad's fine," he told me. "If he's mad, I haven't seen it. He's all business whenever we're in the same room."
"He must've been really proud after you secured pole."
"Sure. I mean, he was pleased, I think."
"Just don't let him make you feel like you have to live up to anything. He got that way with Josh, too. I mean, I'm sure you knew that already. But I'm just saying, you don't have to live up to anything. Or prove yourself to him."
At this, Charlie turned to me, his brown eyes dark in the low lamplight. Suddenly, the couch and the space between us felt infinitely smaller, and I fiddled with the hem of my shirt again, stretching it over my knees. "Thank you for saying that, June. But I don't really feel that way anyway."
"Okay." I nodded fervently. "That's good. I just...know how he can be, that's all. One second, everything's fine, and then you blink, and suddenly he's looking at you like you'll never be good enough. Like you'll never be like him."
"Yeah, well, no offense, but I don't have any interest in being like your father." He moved closer to me. Close enough that our legs touched, and the familiar scent of his shampoo filled my nostrils. I took in the scar on his upper lip, the way his eyes looked nearly hazel in some angles. How his hair was a little tousled, maybe from the jog over, or maybe just because he kept running a hand through it. Unfairly handsome. As always.
I tore my gaze from his mouth. "Do you know why I don't drive?" I asked.
"Josh always said it was for public safety."
"Ha ha. Good guess. But no."
Charlie's hand brushed my calf, the warmth of his touch immediately sending a rush of shivers up my spine. He was so close, staring so intently. Luring me in like a sudden riptide. "Why don't you drive, June?" he asked softly.
I hesitated. I'd been randomly and rudely trauma dumping here and there with him since we'd first reconnected at the party, if only as a tactic to keep him at arm's length. But here he was, listening, and wanting to know. Now it just seemed wrong. But he nudged his chin at me, as if to urge me on, and so I let the words tumble from my mouth, no more hesitation.
"I used to go karting with Josh and my dad when I was really little. I used to want to be just like both of them. You know, I could see the path Josh was on, and I wanted to do the same. Be the same. And, like, my dad had never been very invested in me already. But as I got older, and he moved Josh overseas, I realized it was because he didn't believe I could live up to things. He didn't believe in me. He didn't care." Tears were welling up in my eyes, even as I tried to stop them. I'd known the facts for so long, it didn't make much sense to still be crying over them. But there was something in the way Charlie was looking at me that made the emotions nearly unbearable, forcing them to all spill out. "It's so weird as a kid, when you first realize you'll never be enough. It's such a cruel feeling.
"And, like, it would've been awesome, you know? Having my legend of a father break even more barriers for young girls coming into F1. But he didn't. He took me karting as a hobby. For Josh, he saw it as the continuation of his own legacy. He never believed in me, though. And when I realized that, I swore I would never give him the satisfaction of loving something that meant everything to him. I hated karting, driving, anything cars. I stopped trying to understand motorsport. I just rejected it completely.
"Then Josh got really good, and I started to support him. At least me and my dad could agree on celebrating my brother. That was all I could offer him. Then there was the crash, and I went back to hating the sport, and hating my father. He's been such an asshole this entire time, and it's just so infuriating. To try to still hate something for his sake, or out of spite, when I feel like I'm constantly being pulled back into it. He's, like, furious with me right now, which is just insane to me. He forced you back into our lives, not giving a shit about how I might feel about that, and now he's mad that we've been around each other at all. I hate him, you know? I just...hate him. I will never forgive him for anything. He's the reason Joshua died. Why Mom left. He pushed Joshua so hard, and it was never enough. And now here we all are. Fucked up as ever."
I clamped my mouth shut. I'd only meant to share a little, but instead it'd all come out, bitter on my tongue, and selfish; the last thing I'd wanted was to make so much of this about me, yet here I was, practically having demanded Charlie to sit and listen to me. "Sorry," I said then, wiping tears off my face. "It's really not fair to keep dumping so much shit on you every time we see each other."
Charlie merely shook his head, hand on my arm as he gripped me gently and pulled me to him. His chest was warm and sturdy, and as I pressed my nose to his shoulder, I inhaled deeply, soothed by the familiar smell of his skin and detergent. "I just miss him," I said against his shirt, fingers curled into his neck. "I'm terrified to go the race tomorrow. And I just miss him. All the time. It just hurts. It's been years and I still haven't gotten over it."
We were sitting so awkwardly in this embrace. But Charlie made no indication of moving, only holding me more tightly, a hand smoothing over my hair. "I miss him, too, June. It's like a perpetual emptiness."
"Yeah."
"And your dad's an idiot. I know maybe it doesn't make much sense why I'm racing for Helios, or working with him, but I promise it's not because I don't care about you. I care very much. It's just complicated." Pulling back, he wiped at my eyes with his thumbs and offered me a tender smile, with those dimples I adored so dearly. "You don't have to come tomorrow," he said. "And if you ever want to learn to drive, I'll teach you. Don't let your dad be a ceiling. He's not worth it."
I mustered a watery laugh. "Thanks for the offer, Charlie. But I would probably literally crash your car."
His grin grew sideways. "Haven't you heard? I'm the highest paid driver in F1 right now. I can get a new one."
"Okay, get away from me." I shoved him away, although not very hard or far. We were still so in each other's space, as if unable to resist the pull. "You drivers are some really annoying people."
"Right." He glanced at his watch, then back at me, arching a brow. "I've gone over my allotted time. What does that mean for me?"
"That you're way too nice of a person. Sitting here listening to me complain while you have actual big things going on in your life." I cast him a long look. "I'm sorry for putting more stuff on you. It's not like you're my therapist. I shouldn't be dumping everything on you."
Charlie's steady hand settled on my leg. My thigh, to be exact. I knew he meant it to be a comfort, but I was wearing a skimpy little pair of shorts and he'd been my childhood crush for as long as I could remember. It felt unnerving to have him so close, in the intimacy of my low-lit room, looking at me the way he was looking at me. Like I was all that he could see. "You don't have to apologize to me," he murmured. "I care about you. You can tell me whatever you want and I'll listen."
My mind and body were warring with one another in the silence. Part of me—the brainless, careless part of me—contemplated kissing him. He was so close, and I had a feeling that if I leaned in, he wouldn't pull away. But before I could jump down that rabbit hole, common sense kicked in and reminded me to keep things Uncomplicated. I cleared my throat loudly, pulling out of his grip. "Thanks, hot rod," I said then, my joviality ridiculously exaggerated. "But I'm afraid that's all I've got for tonight. Off you go to count sheep. Or whatever it is you drivers do before bed."
He shot me an amused look, standing. "Thanks for making time for me, June. If I don't see you tomorrow, maybe I'll see you back in Vivienne. I'm flying back to the States for a week."
"Maybe," I replied as coolly as I could. Internally, I was a mess of nerves, jittery about the prospects of tomorrow, and intimidated by the idea of Charlie back home. "Either way, thanks for listening to my problems, Speedy McSpeed."
He snorted. "You're insufferable. You know that, right?"
"Aw, how can I root for you tomorrow when this is how you treat me?" Following him to the door, I leaned against the wall, watching as he put his shoes on. "How mad do you think my dad will be if I show up wearing Auden merch?"
"He can get over it."
"And you? How mad would you be?"
Charlie straightened, closing the distance between us to a hairsbreadth. I pressed myself flatter against the wall, gulping down a breath as I looked up into his dark brown eyes. His lips crooked into a smile. "Wear whatever you want," he told me then. "Doesn't matter to me. I know I'm your favorite."
"Ah, but you forget Milo Neumann."
He leaned in closer, dipping his head down, putting his mouth near mine. "Who?" he asked innocently.
Against my better judgement, I tipped my chin up, as if inviting him to kiss me. He only tossed me a satisfied smirk, before pulling back and opening the door. "Goodnight, Junie," he said over his shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"I never said I was going!" I shouted at him down the hall.
He turned, grinning as he walked backwards toward the elevator. "I'll sign a Helios hat for you, if you want! Or you can try my helmet on!"
"I'm not your fan, Yang!"
Charlie only blew me a kiss, before he stepped onto the elevator, disappearing behind the sliding doors. The last thing I saw was his stupid smug face, and then he was gone, the rest of my retort left to wither in my throat.
Retreating back inside, I gathered up the pass Charlie had left, setting it on my bedside table before I climbed back into bed. I felt wired now, my mind buzzing as I ran through the last hour. But I forced myself to close my eyes, breathing deeply as I prepared to fall asleep.
I always tried to get a good night's rest before race day. And even though I hadn't committed to going tomorrow, it was a force of habit, everything coming back to me as easily as riding a bike. It didn't mean anything. Not really. But I still let myself go through the motions.
Just in case.
a/n: please vote and/or comment if you enjoyed ! what am i ? physically unable to edit this chapter rn. goodnight ! i will edit later when my brain is working (she said ambitiously). okay bye xo
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