you know my flight lands at six, right?

Your time or my time?

Kingston.

For the last time, yes. You've texted me ten times about it.

it's not like you're frequently on time to things, Kingston. and i'm assuming this is important, because you won't tell me anything about it.

My lips are sealed. But I'll be at the airport, okay? Shitty rental car and all.

promise?

Christ almighty, YES. I PROMISE.

good 'cause we're taxiing and i needed an answer before shutting my phone off. <3

Everleigh wasn't sure how Maverick had managed to type, Have a safe flight you shit. so quickly, but there they were.

If Everleigh slept on the flight, she could take all the time in the world that night with Maverick—probably would've been nicer than panicking she'd potentially bled through her trousers, too. She wasn't sure there would ever be an end to things they had to catch up on since March. Even the last couple weeks, they'd barely spoken unless it was confirming Everleigh's flight times. Hence the ten text messages Maverick had received over the last 24 hours because Everleigh, though she truly trusted him with a lot more than she ever thought she would, did not trust him to show up on time even marginally. Even after ten texts, she was ready to wait in the lobby and show up fashionably late to whatever the hell they were attending that required she wore all blue.

Didn't mean she wasn't excited to see him.

Which made her nervous as all shit. Even the magazine she'd bought from the duty free once she'd gotten away from Roman—who refused to stop making sex jokes the entire car ride to the airport and all the way to the gate from the moment he'd found out about her and Maverick's shared hotel room—couldn't settle her nerves. Maverick graced the cover, surrounded by pastels; the pinks and blues matched the Easter egg colours of Revive to a tee. It wasn't shocking that Maverick was getting colour matches in general; but given that this was his first release that had a colour palette other than black and white was probably exciting to magazines. Pastels suited him. If he even tried to make a stupid do you have feelings for me joke, Everleigh was going to kiss him and then tell him she liked the colours and didn't even realize he was on the cover. She would not deal with the smug smile. (If she was forced to, she would kiss it off or smack it off.) (All bets were off, Maverick, it had been three months.)

Everleigh was used to being on flights, so it surprised her how nervous she was to fly. Maybe she wasn't nervous to fly, maybe she was nervous to land. And with nerves came wine. And with wine came more wine. And with wine came as much alcohol as her co-workers, who made sure to ask if she was okay a thousand times during the ten hour flight, were willing to give her.

It was no shock that by the end of the flight, Everleigh was more than a little tipsy but not quite drunk enough to not feel the nerves of the night. She hoped there was a bar where they were going—somewhere secluded so there was no chance of paparazzi taking photos of Maverick's a little too embarrassing girlfriend who, very publicly, said she wasn't his girlfriend and then snogged him in the airport the next time they were photographed together.

When she walked out, thankful she wasn't stumbling like she half expected to be. Embarrassing, either way. She hoped she didn't smell like airplane liquor. Or that Maverick had some cologne she could use—the body spray she'd packed was buried somewhere in her suitcase that she would not be opening in the middle of the airport. Was that weird? To not see her Maverick in three months and ask to wear his cologne after a long flight? Probably not the weirdest thing Maverick had been asked in his life, really. Now that she thought about it.

Baggage claim was simple–she didn't need it. Everleigh was good at packing light. She was only staying one night, flying out in the morning. Maverick had told her to wear something blue, so all she'd packed was a pair of sweats she'd been planning to sleep in and wear to the airport. Tried to ignore the fact that she wasn't even sure when she'd see Maverick again; tried to ignore at some point they had to sleep and that felt like wasted time.

Everleigh walked past the crowds waiting for suitcases and found a spot to sit, ready to take a nap until her phone blew up with I'M SO SORRY texts from Maverick when he was late. That was okay.

What she hadn't expected was the, "You waiting for someone?" behind her.

Everleigh turned around, jumping up from her seat. "Kingston?"

"Hi." Maverick had on a pink jacket and jeans, navy blue hoodie tucked underneath. Everleigh hadn't expected him to choose that colour from the three available, but it was working for him. Really working for him.

(Everleigh tried not to get too distracted by the fact that as she looked him over, he looked her over, too.) (A couple of dumb bastards checking each other out in the middle of an airport, surrounded by families and couples who got on their merry way; Everleigh still felt like she was floating.)

"You're on time?" Everleigh pinched herself in the bicep. It hurt. She poked Maverick in the stomach to make sure he was real, too.

"Come on, Everleigh—" Maverick took her hand in his, holding it gently. A soft squeeze to assure her he was really there. Those whiskey eyes and their golden suns, the freckles Everleigh would kiss until she made sure she'd gotten each one, and the curls poked out from the beanie Maverick had worn to come inside and get her. Fingers traced her bangs lightly, pushing the hairs that were long enough behind her ear, thumb skimming her cheekbone.

"Holy shit." Everleigh jumped over the row of chairs she'd been sitting on, burying Maverick in a hug. Holding him a little tighter when she felt her feet lift off the ground. That was a no, even from Maverick. But his head was buried in her clavicle and Everleigh didn't want him to let go of her. (Tomorrow was going to be hard.) (Stop thinking about tomorrow.) "I can't believe you're here."

"Want to take a nap and I'll come back?"

"Shut up." Everleigh liked kissing Maverick in public. Liked her hands at the nape of his neck and his hands on her waist. Liked him and that he was there and not small and pixelated but real and existing and breathing the same air as her.

When Maverick finally pulled away, the small smile never left his lips.

"I can't believe you were on time," Everleigh said, "I'm so proud of you."

"It's been known, Everleigh."

"Must've been before you met me."

"That's not true."

"You were late to the flight the day I met you."

"That's... I'm here now." Maverick laughed.

"You are." Everleigh smiled. "Oh! I had something to ask you."

"Yes?"

Everleigh pulled the rolled up magazine from the netted pocket at the side of her carry on. She unrolled it and held it out to Maverick, along with the sharpie she'd bought purely to make him laugh. "You're, like, my favourite singer. I'm your biggest fan. Could you sign this for me?"

Maverick laughed and took the magazine and marker from her. "I thought I had ugly handwriting."

"I'll make an exception."

"And what's your name again?"

"Kingston."

"Hey, that's my name." Maverick grinned and waved the sharpie around. "Turn around."

Everleigh complied with a teasing eye roll, Maverick pressed the magazine to her back and started writing. A few moments passed before the magazine was pulled off.

"There you go." Everleigh turned back around, met with a quick kiss—fucking paparazzi bait. "Enjoy."

Everleigh looked to the magazine in her hand and looked down; it was a little more effort than she needed to use to tear her gaze from Maverick. A laugh bubbled out of her, a little too expository of how many drinks she'd had on the plane. The snort didn't help.

Across his own face, Maverick had autographed it all right. For Stevie's biggest fan, it read, I'm your biggest fan. Love, your Kingston, xx. The moustache he'd drawn over his stubble was icing on the cake, really.

"I can't even sell this," Everleigh joked. Another tipsy giggle escaping. God, she needed to pull herself together. This was embarrassing. "It's not even your professional autograph."

"That's one of a kind, Meadowlark." Maverick grinned.

Everleigh needed her hormonal brain to stop wanting to cry when people were nice to her. Tell her why she was ready to cry when Roman told her to have a safe flight (the only non-sex joke he'd said). Periods were garbage. Everleigh needed to go to the washroom and change her cup before they left.

Like he was reading her mind, which it sometimes felt he was, Maverick asked, "Do you have to go to the washroom or anything before we go? I can hold your bag."

"I—" Everleigh gripped the strap. "I need the bag. But I do have to go to the loo."

Maverick clued in quickly. Everleigh supposed that was a perk to dating a man who'd lived with a woman for a decent amount of time—that was nice. Donny had panicked when he saw tampons—Everleigh still didn't know why, they'd had sex before he saw them and she'd not been on her period. Maverick was a breath of fresh air. "Cool. I'll be here."

"I'll be back in a minute."

"Before you go..."

"Yes?"

"Don't take offense to this."

Everleigh frowned. "Should I be scared?"

"Did you... Are you..." Maverick rubbed his lips together. "Your lips taste like... liquor."

Everleigh held her hand up, fingers pinched in a way that made them close but not touching. Kind of the way video calls had made her feel with Maverick. "I may be slightly drunk."

"Right." Maverick nodded. "Noted."

"Is that bad?"

Maverick shook his head. "I can work with slightly."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Have you had anything to eat since you got on the plane?" Maverick's thumb stroked the back of her hand in a way that was entirely too distracting.

"I don't like airplane food."

"You go to the washroom," Maverick said, "I'll grab you something from the convenience store so you don't puke."

"I'm not a lightweight."

"You're not giving me heavyweight either, Meadowlark."

"That's..." Everleigh wrinkled her nose at him. "Fine. Meet you back here?"

"Meet you back here."

*

"So, how'd Stevie take it when you told her about us?" Everleigh asked as Maverick drove, tossing a chocolate-covered pretzel into her mouth from the bag Maverick had bought her. She tried to keep herself distracted from the gearshift, where Maverick's hand would skim her thigh as he changed gears; she couldn't tell if it was intentional or not and decided to ignore it all together.

Maverick's eyes widened. "I thought... I thought you told Stevie about us."

"Why would I tell Stevie?" Everleigh asked. "I love her, but she's been busy. I'm assuming she's in contact with you because of The L. And Escape Velocity."

"You don't know that title. It's not something in your brain," Maverick said.

"Sure," Everleigh said. "But am I wrong? You know the title, she had to have told you."

"I signed... contracts."

"You're a terrible liar."

"Guess we're telling Stevie tonight, huh?"

Everleigh stared at him, agape. "Tonight?"

Maverick winced. "I really am a bad liar, holy shit."

"This shouldn't be news to you, Kingston."

"It's becoming old hat real quick."

"So, tonight is..." Everleigh waved her hand, urging him to continue. He'd spilled most of the beans anyway, might as well finish the can.

"You didn't hear this from me, you saw it online."

"Sure."

"Album launch party."

"Album launch—It's coming out tonight?"

"If you scream any louder, Stevie'll hear you." Maverick laughed and put his hand on her leg as he drove, running it up a couple times. "You're gonna love the album."

"Obviously." As if she wouldn't. As if there was even the slightest chance it wouldn't immediately become the only thing she ever listened to. (Sorry, Revive.)

"Big talk." Maverick laughed.

"I've never not loved a MARS release," Everleigh said. "I learned the lyrics for the deluxe songs from Nuclear Fusion in less than a day I listened to it so much."

"Stevie's excited you're going to be there."

"I'm excited to see her too," Everleigh said. One of her favourite things was seeing Stevie—it was astounding to her that her favourite singer enjoyed her company.

"Esmé's still convinced you're going to leave me for her," Maverick said. His mouth hung open a little longer than the end of his sentence, Everleigh popped a pretzel in without really thinking about it. Maverick smiled as he chewed.

"Stevie would've told you if I was dating her." Everleigh pointed a finger at him.

"We could just..." Maverick trailed off as he swallowed the pretzel. "... see if she notices. I know we haven't talked about, you know, paparazzi, but if you're uncomfortable with them, it could be good practice."

"That's implying you think she won't clock us the moment we walk in the building."

"Is that a bet?" Maverick asked.

"Damn right it is."

"Oh, it's on, Meadowlark."

"I'm willing to go a 100 quid," Everleigh said. "Hope you've got cash."

"Is quid, like, equivalent to a buck?" Maverick asked. "I've never actually known."

"Sorry." Everleigh wrinkled her nose at him, laughing. Throwing on her best mocking American accent, she said, "A 100 dollars."

"Then the answer was yes." Maverick laughed. "Do you have an American 100 on you?"

"Does it matter when I'm right and you're wrong?"

"Money where your mouth is, Meadowlark."

"I don't have American cash, I have a credit card." Everleigh looked at her bag of pretzels. A little too sober for the admittance. The chocolate-covered pretzels were working their magic, but at what cost? "I only have the one night here, it didn't seem necessary."

"Fuckin' good thing I have a ticket to London for tomorrow morning," Maverick said. "You can pay me when we get there."

"You—" Everleigh looked at him. "You're coming back to London with me? Tomorrow?"

"You didn't think I was missing in action because I wasn't working, did you?" Maverick blindly dug into the pretzel bag and tossed a couple into his mouth.

"I didn't—no, of course not," Everleigh said. "When did you decide this?"

"Pretty much the second I found out about the party," Maverick said. "I've been here recording and trying to get as much done as I can before today before I go back with you."

Everleigh smiled. "You can tell me these things in advance, you know."

Everleigh had known he was thinking about trying to go to London with her, but she hadn't known he'd finally made that decision.

"But then I wouldn't get to see that smile in person."

Everleigh chose to eat a chocolate-covered pretzel to hide her smile behind. Like hell she was giving him the satisfaction of a cherry-red blush for that. "Eyes on the road, you fuckin' spoon."

"Yes, ma'am." Maverick hid his smile behind more pretzels, too. A little more obvious than Everleigh's was.

*

Maverick had shut Everleigh up with a kiss before she could comment on the warehouse he'd brought her to for the Escape Velocity party—it was probably terrible he knew she was seconds away from calling him a serial killer one more time. For good luck.

Inside was gorgeous. The entryway was like a galaxy; dark curtains surrounding them, but lights shimmering like stars. Maverick held Everleigh's hand as they walked through it, not letting go until they walked out into the main area of the warehouse. Everleigh know it was only because he believed he'd win the Stevie bet, but it was probably for the better when she saw the photographers lurking; she might've squeezed his hand hard enough to cut off the circulation in his fingers.

It was clear they had put a lot of money into the party; and for good reason. If MARS was a hurricane, let Everleigh be caught in the storm. The building was lit up with neon fixtures that paired gorgeously with the more technical parts of the warehouse. Judging by the number of guests behind them in the tunnel, and the amount already in the party, Everleigh could assume her and Maverick were perfectly on time. Another step toward a 100 dollar bill in her pocket.

"It's our favourite guest of honour." God, Everleigh hadn't even noticed Stevie walk up to them. She really was lost in her own head, huh?

Stevie was a vision. Wearing the navy blue as Everleigh, she had on a leather pants, a velvet blazer, and a tank top that looked like it was made of silk. Take a portrait of her with the way the neon hit her perfectly and it would fit right in at the Louvre.

"Thank—" Maverick started.

"I was talking about Everleigh," Stevie said.

Everleigh fought a smile and looked at Maverick as he rolled his eyes. She was just glad he and Stevie had made up. The two of them needed each other's friendship; they were each other's lighthouses, ready to guide the other one safely to shore.

"Fine," Maverick said. "No hug for you."

Stevie was already hugging Everleigh. "Sorry, what was that?"

Everleigh grinned and hugged Stevie back, stealing a glimpse at Maverick, who she promptly flipped off.

Maverick made a mocking face at Everleigh and returned the favour with his middle finger. "Oh, nothing."

As Stevie pulled away, Maverick stuffed his hand into his pocket. "Look at you, showing up somewhere on time for once in your life. Who knew you had it in you?"

"He doesn't." Everleigh coughed into her fist. Sure, it was a low blow. But Everleigh stood by what she had said earlier: broken clocks were right more often than Maverick was when it came to time.

"I was early today," Maverick protested. Everleigh fought the urge to kiss him on the nose for that one. It wasn't a lie.

And Stevie had picked up on it. "Early?" Her gaze darted between Everleigh and Maverick. She could feel the weight of the 100 in her pocket. "That's... interesting."

Jun ran up to the three of them, sipping on a Capri Sun. His shirt was the final colour in the dress code Maverick had texted her: purple. "Sorry, did you say Mav was early to something?"

Maverick cleared his throat. Forever a tell he was lying through his teeth. "I was... listening to Stevie. She told me to... try showing up a couple hours earlier than normal. You know. We were all there for that... I think."

Everleigh knew their attention was on Maverick and the sweat that had already started beading on his forehead, so she felt less bad that a smile nearly broke through her attempted neutral expression. She pulled it together quick enough that it was, hopefully, undetectable and wouldn't remove her contention from their bet.

"Since when do you listen to Stevie?" Jun asked.

The Maverick they'd seen in Las Vegas had clearly been an imposter. A doppelganger. This Maverick was a nervous wreck and could never have thrown a beer on someone and convinced them it was an accident. Which either meant he really hated Maver Vincent, or that he really liked Everleigh. She had a guess, but kept her expression straight to not tip anyone off. That was, clearly, Maverick's job.

"You all right there, Mav?" Stevie asked. "Look a little... nervous."

"No. No," Maverick said. "I'm good. Great. Good."

Stevie looked at Jun like a detective who'd gotten their witness to confess. "I told you something happened."

Jun took a long sip of his drink. "You said something a little less classy but I'll spare them."

It was something to be said that Everleigh was the younger sibling; she couldn't help herself from egging Stevie on. "What do you think happened?"

Maverick wouldn't meet Stevie's gaze. If he looked at Everleigh, she'd laugh, so he'd likely found the floor more interesting than anything else.

"Something not-so PG-13 friendly has happened since New York," Stevie said. "But that's just my uneducated guess."

"That's not what you really said," Jun said with a laugh.

Everleigh took that as Stevie had probably seen them walk in together and thought they'd slept together.

"Trying not to stress out ol' Mav here before he sweats straight through his nice pink shirt," Stevie said. She touched his shoulder gently. "It's a good colour on you."

She was absolutely right.

"It's... body glitter," Maverick said.

Okay. That one broke her. Everleigh slapped a hand over her mouth and poorly suppressed a loud snort that escaped. (Maybe Everleigh was still a little drunk from the plane.) (Oops.)

"Body glitter," Stevie repeats. Not giving into his terrible bullshit. "On your shirt."

"I have... bad aim," Maverick said. Everleigh's laughter grew. Good God, Maverick, what a statement. She fought the urge to press her forehead into his shoulder as hers shook.

"Maver would disagree," Stevie said.

"You can't play dumb when you've got Leigh laughing like a hyena over a gross body glitter joke," Jun said.

And he was right. No man had ever been that funny, but Everleigh was a goner.

"I... am dumb," Maverick said.

Everleigh could feel her stomach starting to hurt and decided that if she was going to keep from saying it, she was going to have to remove herself from the conversation. She pulled herself together enough to say, "I'm going to get a drink—"

Not one step before Maverick had his hand around her arm and was pulling her back into the conversation. "No—" he began.

Everleigh raised an eyebrow at him as he let go of her arm. "Then I think you owe me 100 quid, babes. She's clearly figured it out."

Stevie's eyes widened. "100 quid. Babes—I knew it!"

Jun shook his head, disappointed in his friend. "Did you really bet 100 bucks Stevie wouldn't be able to sniff you out as soon as you walked through the door?"

"No, I would never—" Maverick said, as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and held out a couple bills to Everleigh.

Everleigh had a smug little smirk on her lips as she pocketed the money. At some point, she'd slip it back into his pocket. It was fine. "Never bet against Stevie."

"Marry me," Stevie said to Everleigh.

"You find out about us and immediately propose to my girlfriend—" Maverick protested.

"Wanna bet who gets the girl?"

If Maverick was the prince of shitfuckery, Everleigh was the queen. The reigning ruler. Because the kiss she planted on Stevie's cheek was practically instinct.

Although he knew she was teasing, Maverick still pouted. "Yeah, okay, you're welcome for dropping your girlfriend off on time. I'm gonna go—"

Maverick turned on his heel, ready to take his couple of dramatic steps away from them. Everleigh was fully prepared to grab his arm to stop him when he stopped himself. The rest of the group's eyes followed where Maverick stared, catching one Brendon Ellis in a pink jacket as he walked into the warehouse.

A ventured glance over to Stevie told Everleigh three things. One, Stevie had seen him, too. Two, that she was unequivocally and irrevocably in love with him. And three, those feelings scared the living shit out of her.

"If you're stealing her," Maverick said, "I'm stealing him—"
"I thought Bash couldn't make it?" Jun asked.

"I... thought so, too," Stevie said.

Maverick turned to look at Stevie, realization dawning on his face. Something may have happened between Everleigh and Maverick after New York, but something had also happened between Stevie and Brendon after New York. (Hadn't she been in Monaco?) (Everleigh thought she remembered a picture or two on Instagram.)

"I'll go grab him," Jun said. Stevie's saviour as he walked toward the other man.

"Great!" Stevie said. "I need a drink. Anyone else want one?"

"Oh, I'd love one," Maverick said. Decidedly a shit.

Stevie avoided his gaze. "Wow, no one? Really? Okay, I guess I'll go by myself, see you in a bit."

"Stealthy!" Maverick called after Stevie as she ran away.

Everleigh and Maverick watched Stevie leave before turning to look at each other.

"You should go see—" Everleigh started.

"I should make sure she's okay—" Maverick began at the same time.

Everleigh nodded. Tried not to feel too relieved that they were on the same page. Sure, Everleigh hadn't seen Maverick in months, but Stevie clearly needed him more than Everleigh did at that moment. And that was okay. She'd probably get less pictures taken of her with him off with Stevie, anyway.

"I'll be right back."

"Careful," Everleigh said. "Famous last words."

Maverick laughed. Took her hand in his and quickly kissed her knuckles. Slight stubble brushed against the fingers.

Everleigh smiled at him. "Go on, then."

"If you—I'm gonna DD, okay?" Maverick said. "Do you want me to bring you a drink?"

"It's okay." Everleigh shook her head. She squeezed his hand. "Are you stalling because you know this is going to lead to her talking about us?"

"She's going to fight me for you," Maverick said. "I can feel it. You pulled up here looking all gorgeous and shit, and it's going to be a fight to the death."

Everleigh wrinkled her nose at him. "It's obvious you're going to lose to Stevie, innit?"

"Hence the stalling." Maverick laughed. Kissed her hand again. "Okay, I'm going. I'm gone. I'll be back soon."

"Take your time."

Maverick smiled at her one last time before jogging in the direction Stevie had gone.

Jun led Brendon over a couple moments later, staring at Everleigh with a silent plea for help. Everleigh gave him a small nod while Brendon took in the sights of the warehouse décor.

"Look at us," Jun said, "together we make one bi flag."

And it was true. Brendon with his pink jacket, Jun with his purple shirt, and Everleigh with her blue outfit fit the dress code perfectly.

"Clearly we need a picture at some point," Everleigh said. She looked at Brendon, tucking her hands into the pockets of her checkered pants. "Welcome to the party, Bash. Where in the world were we this time?"

Everleigh might've followed him on Instagram after New York, but a lot of Brendon's stories were promotion of the F1 Netflix show or something from sponsors.

"Barcelona," Brendon said. "You been?"

"I think... once," Everleigh said. "One of my first trips. It's gorgeous there."

"Idris and I went to a sushi place after the race and he had to teach me how to use chopsticks. Again."

Everleigh tried not to laugh; thankful he hadn't told her that at the airport before her bag of pretzels. "Eventually it'll be second nature. At least you didn't as for a fork."

"I genuinely think it would've been less embarrassing."

Jun looked at Brendon, aghast. "No. It would not have."

"Surprised Stevie managed to keep the reason of the party from me," Brendon asked, turning to Everleigh. "Did you know?"

Decidedly keeping Maverick's slipup in the car to herself, Everleigh shook her head. "I was told to just show up. Very romantic."

"Think Mav bringing you to a MARS album release party is the very definition of romance, no?" Jun asked. What a wingman.

"Not when the invitation sounds serial killery."

"Okay, but if the invitation was from baby Skeet Ulrich..." Jun trailed off.

Everleigh shrugged. "You've got me there."

"Might be jumping to conclusions here but did Mav lose a bet about Stevie realizing there have been... developments here?" Brendon asked.

Everleigh laughed. Maverick should owe her another 100 for Brendon figuring it out the moment he walked in the door too, and he hadn't even seen Maverick. "Yup. A 100 quid. He thought she wouldn't notice. I knew she would. Little bit of a dumbass, but that's okay."

"Before I get too drunk," Jun said, "don't forget to grab your goodie bags before you leave. They released a new Capri Sun flavour and it's in all of them. I need your reviews."

"There's no such thing as a bad Capri Sun flavour," Everleigh said.

"How detailed does this review need to be?" Brendon asked.

"At least three bullet points will do," Jun asked.

"Directly to you or do we have to go to the website?" Everleigh asked.

"You can text me," Jun said.

"Do we need sources?" Everleigh asked. "Or a bibliography?"

Sure, it was a review on a Capri Sun. But Everleigh had spent too long in school and there were questions that needed to be answered, always. Some professors were shit at giving instructions, the anxiety of that never left her.

"At least two sources should be good."

"Annotated?"

"Of course." Jun said it like it was obvious. Everleigh would spare him the story of her 100-level English professor who docked her marks for not including a source in an introduction paragraph when he'd specifically said don't include sources in the first paragraph. She needed to make sure.

"And when is the deadline?" Brendon asked. Playing hardball.

"How does a week sound?" Jun asked. "Hopefully it doesn't conflict with Everleigh's classes."

"Hopefully my classes don't conflict with my review," Everleigh said. "This is more important."

(Hopefully her Maverick didn't conflict with her review, either.)

"Next time you get a code blue, ask if they've tried the new flavour first," Jun said.

"Would it be bad advertising if they say yes?" Everleigh asked. Cardiac arrest via Capri Sun would likely not be a good look for the brand.

"Saying yes means they will actually get some assistance," Jun said.

"Right," Everleigh said. "Next code black we'll use them to wager as well. Should calm the situation. Even a code white. If I'd had Capri Sun, I might not've been punched."

It was weird to Everleigh how detached she'd become from that situation. She didn't tell many people about it, and when she did it was a little too casual not to be concerning.

"Think we should fuel our cars with Capri Sun," Brendon said. "Will win the championship by mid-season."

"Are you sponsored by any other drink already?" Everleigh asked. Roman was probably screaming at her from London that it was Lucozade or Red Bull or something. How was she meant to know? "Because there's probably something you could work into a deal, there."

"I'm emailing Geoff to drop them as we speak."

"Better attach your review when it drops," Everleigh said. "Really help the sale."

"They should honestly just change the name to Capri Sun Windsor Formula One Racing," Jun said.

"Will look good on the car," Brendon said. Finally glancing around the warehouse and spotting Stevie and Maverick at the bar. Everleigh was going to hell if she kept looking at Maverick with the neon lights of the bar on him and thinking what she was. "Are they alright?"

"They're..." God, Everleigh was a worse liar than Maverick when put on the spot. "Catching up. I know it's been busy on Kingston's end, likely Stevie's too. Probably taking a second to... make fun of each other, or something."

Brendon smiled softly. Like he knew something the world didn't. Which was probably true. Unlike Stevie's smile, his looked confident and sure of his feelings toward her. Like Stevie was Halley's Comet and even if it took 76 years to see her again, he'd take one night over a lifetime without her. "Looked like Stevie was running away but must be my imagination."

"She really wanted to try the new Capri Sun flavour," Jun supplied.

"Are you allowed to tell us what flavour it is or are we figuring that out as part of our review?" Everleigh asked.

"It's called Hawai'i Cooler. That's all I'll say."

"Incredible. A mystery," Everleigh replied. Brendon was still lost in his own brain, staring at Stevie while she spoke to Maverick.

"Feel like I should turn things up a notch and give everyone a grade," Jun said. "Whoever can guess the flavours correctly wins a prize."

Everleigh could already feel her overcompetitive gene kicking in. Jun couldn't say grades, that wasn't fair. She was on the Dean's list. She needed to win, she needed an A, she wouldn't settle for anything less. It was a terrible trait she had. "... And what's the prize?"

"Sneak peek of a track for the deluxe edition."

Brendon's interest was piqued and his gaze tore away from his comet.

"I hope you're ready to lose," Everleigh said

"And what if I steal yours and Mav's goodie bags so you can't try them?" Brendon asked. "Then what?"

"Jun, you said it was at the bar, right—"

"I'll use my entire salary to buy out the bartender's lot." Brendon gave her a promise, not a threat.

"I'll..." Everleigh had to think quick. "Ask Stevie to break her NDA and send me a sample."

"Shit... you got me there," Brendon said, laughing. "I'll... never mind."

"Admitting defeat already?" Jun asked. "Stevie would be disappointed."

"Who needs a career when we can spend our time writing competing reviews of juice pouches?"

"Exactly," Everleigh said. "I can drop out of uni right now."

"The scary part is I know you're both serious," Jun said.

"Code blue serious."

"Feel like I've unleashed a demon," Jun said.

Anyone who'd been in the same room as Everleigh and Roman would've probably stopped Jun from presenting a challenge toward her. Maverick would've slapped a hand over his mouth and steered her away from the conversation with an extremely stern, no, and stopped it from happening. Trivial Pursuit night was fun, but it also gave Maverick a taste of just how godawful of a person Everleigh was when someone told her to put her dukes up.

"I have 14 hours of flying to start writing this review," Brendon said.

"I can't believe I'm upset about only having ten and a half." A ten and a half flight with Maverick meant either sleep or movies; ones that Maverick wouldn't jump at and kick the seat in front of him. (Did Maverick even have a seat near her in the first place?)

"You might as well admit defeat right now," Brendon said.

"I think you're underestimating that I'm a student and therefore don't sleep."

"I haven't slept in four years."

"Masters program. Degree before masters. Try ten."

"Yeah? Well I—"

Jun laughed. Loudly. Awkwardly. Nervously. "Oh, would you look at that, here they come." Jun muttered something under his breath that Everleigh didn't fully catch but thought she'd heard thank God.

"Hi, Bash," Maverick said. Subtly. Not loud at all. Clearly not hiding something. "How's it going? I thought you had a... race... thing..."

"Managed to sneak away for a day, but I have to fly to Italy very early tomorrow morning," Brendon said, laughing. He was clearly the only one who knew remotely anything about sports—Stevie was probably second in line and she was clearly avoiding something. "Thought I'd surprise everyone."

Stevie finally met his glance and waved. "Hi."

Brendon laughed again. God, they were lost in each other. "Hi."

"Way to, uh," Maverick stumbled over his own words. So that was where Everleigh's little poet had gone. "Fit the dress code."

Everleigh elbowed him in the stomach. Even if she hadn't the faintest what their conversation had been about, she could tell that wasn't what Stevie had needed him to say. Evidently, she was right, as Stevie elbowed him on his other side.

"Ow."

Jun was clearly the better one when it came to redirecting the conversation. "Did you try the new flavour yet?"

"Not yet," Stevie said. Though she had a tetra pack in her hand. Everleigh couldn't tell if Brendon was eyeing the juice or sizing up how gorgeous Stevie looked. Probably a bit of both.

Jun looked at Maverick. "Do you want to join this competition we're ha—"

"No." Everleigh's protest came at the exact same time Brendon's did. Couple of bloody plonkers they were.

Maverick jumped and Everleigh stopped herself from joking that meant he had to lose his jacket. "I—I think that's a no."

"In unrelated news," Everleigh said, "may I please have the Capri Sun from your goody bag, Kingston?"

Maverick looked ready to tell her she could when Brendon said, "Try it and I'm throwing it across the room."

"What—" Stevie looked horrified at Brendon and Everleigh's behaviour. Frankly, Everleigh should've been more embarrassed than she was.

"I'm going with... no?" Maverick managed.

"Hey," Everleigh said.

"I'm more scared of him than you," Maverick said. "Sorry."

Stevie held the Capri Sun in her hand out to Everleigh. "Do you want—"

Brendon smacked it to the ground. "Sorry. Had to."

Look, if Rami didn't want to be disappointed in them, Rami shouldn't have walked over in the first place. He stared at the Capri Sun for a moment, before scolding them. "I don't want to know but stop wasting these."

"It's still in the tetra pack—"

Maverick stared at Everleigh with wide eyes; probably flashbacks of her telling him about meningitis flashing through his brain. Technically, Stevie hadn't drank from it. "Don't drink juice off the floor—what the fuck is wrong with you—"

"The straw is wrapped in plastic," Stevie said.

Brendon stepped on it. No hesitation. "Not safe for consumption."

Everleigh narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'm afraid to ask," Maverick said, "but what happened while we were gone?"

"Don't encourage them," Stevie scolded.

"You don't want to know why there's a turf war over juice?"

"Honestly, no," Stevie said to Maverick. "This seems... personal."

"I didn't start it," Jun blurted. Everleigh respected it—she would've done the same if it was Florence and they were getting in trouble for something.

Rami scoffed. "I know that's a damn lie."

"Whatever is not happening," Brendon said, "just know that I'm going to win."

"And, hypothetically of course," Everleigh said. "No, you're not."

"Not that I'm encouraging anything," Jun said, "but should we take bets—"

Stevie smacked him in the arm. "If you don't stop whatever you're doing right now—"

"Do we have to separate the two of you—" Maverick started.

"I am a professional high-performance athlete—"

"Was that qualifier really necessary?" Everleigh asked.

"I do not need to be put into time-out. I'm fine," Brendon finished.

"In theory he might need consoling when he loses, though," Everleigh said. "In case anyone's up for it."

Maverick's eyes darted to Stevie as he let out a nervous laugh. While Everleigh recognized she was being a shit, it wasn't like she was going to stop. There was a deluxe edition song on the line.

"Leigh actually said she needs to leave early to finish up her homework so—" Brendon started.

Stevie interrupted, "Does anyone want to see this cool infinity mirror room they set up? It looks like fireflies floating on water."

"Please. Now." Maverick's hands were on Everleigh's shoulders before she could react. She had half a mind to dig her heels in and make it more difficult for him to steer her, but she had the feeling that would send them both tumbling. He had already turned her away from Brendon. "Lead the way."

Jun, a clear instigator, avoided Stevie and Maverick and slinked away without much retribution for causing the chaos of the night that was pining Brendon and Everleigh against each other. Rami likely followed after him to investigate said instigation.

As they walked in, Brendon pulled Stevie to the side. And by some ridiculous probably bro-code miracle, that meant Maverick nudged Everleigh to the other side of the room. Stevie was right, it was gorgeous in there. (Insert cheesy statement about how Maverick was gorgeous too.) (Hardy, har har.) (Fucking barf.) Under the lights of the infinity mirror room, Maverick took her hand in his, a little more comfortable; falling in beside him was easy.

"Your hands are like ice," Maverick said, over the low hum of the music. It wasn't loud enough that Maverick had to lean as close as he was, but Everleigh didn't protest. "Holy shit."

"Sorry." Everleigh wished her first thought wasn't to pull her hand away. She knew that eating disorders caused poor circulation occasionally, and hers definitely did. The last thing she wanted was for Maverick to notice before she could even mention it to him.

Maverick squeezed it so she couldn't leave him yet. "Not going to warm up if you're not holding mine, is it?"

Everleigh wrinkled her nose at him. "Was that a shitty pickup line or are my hands actually cold?"

"It was a bit of both."

"Jesus, Kingston." Everleigh laughed.

Maverick grinned as he tucked their hands in the pocket of his jacket. Much warmer. "A bad pickup line—"

"I definitely said shitty."

"A shitty pickup line is probably a bad lead into this..."

It was Everleigh's turn to squeeze his hand. "Carry on."

Maverick waved his other hand around, bumping his shoulder into hers lightly. "Hall of mirrors, fairy lights. If it's okay with you, and it's okay if it's not..."

"Please stop counting me out before you ask the question."

"Can I take a photo?" Maverick looked like he was in pain asking Everleigh the question. Like he was bracing himself for a no or the bitchiness he was all too familiar with when it came to her. She would spare him one night and no more. "Post it to Instagram? I won't tag you, because I know it's probably overwhelming—"

God, he didn't know the half of it. (He probably did.)

"But it might be nice," Maverick continued. "Whatever you're comfortable with. And it's totally fine if you're not. I... saw the report from after... New York. And—"

"Kingston?"

"Yeah?"

"I think we're past New York."

Maverick swallowed hard and nodded.

"And, yes, you can take a picture," Everleigh said, trying to ignore the panicked heat building in her chest. "Just... less of my face? More anonymous girlfriend? If that's okay."

"That's totally fine." Maverick smiled softly. A little more relieved than anything else. "And if you change your mind, I'll delete it. Moment's notice."

"I'm keeping my hand in your pocket for this," Everleigh said. "It's fuckin' warm."

"Do you want my jacket?"

Everleigh pressed her forehead into the top of his shoulder. "Maybe later."

"Say the word."

A couple photos later—and maybe a couple kisses, but who was counting—Everleigh turned to make sure Stevie and Brendon were doing okay. The last thing she needed was for Stevie to have been shooting her help me eyes and for Everleigh to have been entirely too distracted by Maverick to notice them.

Instead, Stevie and Brendon lit up galaxies with their smiles, lost in each other. Who needed a GPS for any foreign city when the other was there as home? Everleigh pulled her hand from Maverick's pocket and took her phone out. She snapped a couple photos before scrolling through, finding the best one to text to Stevie.

"She's gonna die when she sees that," Maverick mumbled, looking at Everleigh's phone. "Well done."

Everleigh took Maverick's hand again, typing quickly with one hand as she sent it to Stevie, hoping that her phone was on silent and that she didn't ruin the moment. She looked back to Maverick, who smiled fondly at his phone.

"Approved?" Maverick tilted his phone toward her, Everleigh leaned a little closer; her bicep brushing his shoulder.

Everleigh would never fucking admit it out loud, but her father was right: the way she looked at Maverick was foolish. A stupid smile dressed her lips; it was ridiculous that one could even see the smile, given the fact she'd kissed Maverick's cheek for the one he wanted to post. Maverick's smile was stupid as shit, too. A couple of spoons, they were.

"Approved."