The springtime sunshine of late April warmed me as I made my way to Michael's office with considerably wet hair. After the grease gun snafu, I went home and took a shower. Turns out, it's a lot easier to get grease off a garage floor than it is to get out of your hair. I went through half a shampoo bottle before my hair stopped feeling like its oil content was equivalent to that of fried dough. 

Michael didn't know anything about what had happened. I just pushed out our lunch date and told him I would explain later. What was I going to explain? The truth? I wasn't sure how he would react to that, because when I told him about Sunday night, he acted all sarcastically apologetic that I had to spend so much time with Devin. What was I supposed to tell him this time? Getting in a grease gun fight is reasonably avoidable... 

By the time I reached Michael's office, I decided I would just tell him the truth. There was no reason to feel guilty about it—but why did I feel guilty? Shaking off the thought, I put on a happy face and opened his door. 

My happy face fell from a cliff when I saw Nicole standing beside his desk, reading something from a binder she held in front of them. 

She gave me and my damp hair a startled look. "What happened to you?"

"Oh, I had to go home and take a shower. You know that mechanic life."

"No, and I don't intend to." She flipped her hair behind her shoulder and closed the binder. "Have you seen Devin around by any chance?" she asked as she walked past me. "I couldn't find him on my lunch break." 

Screw the truth!  "Uh, I saw him earlier this morning. I don't know where he's at now, though."  That was the truth. Sort of. 

If Devin wanted to tell Nicole about this morning, he was welcome to it. I have no business angering the beast. Speaking of the beast—I mean beauty; they are one and the same after all—Nicole sulked at my lack of information and wandered back to her office. 

"So," Michael said, "what trouble did you get into today?" He grinned like he was expecting a classic "Larissa is a klutz" story. 

I smiled and shook my head. "No trouble, just a little mess with the grease gun." Little mess, big mess, whatever.

He casually threw his hands up. "Why am I not surprised?"

Because you don't know the whole story? I imitated his hands and shrugged, giving him what I hoped to be an unsuspicious smile. He responded by getting out of his office chair and enveloping me in a hug. 

"See I'm wearing my new watch?" I asked as I pulled away, playfully putting my wrist on display. 

He looked at it for a moment before his eyes met mine with a dull, inquisitive stare. "You bought a new one?"

Thinking he was just teasing, I went along with the charade. "No, someone sent it to me."

"Who?"

I began to realize how genuine he was sounding. "Um, I don't know. It was anonymous."

"Must've been your dad, then?" he suggested. 

"Yeah, must've..." I trailed off, trying to hide my confusion. It must've been my dad—only he didn't know that I broke my watch in the first place.

"So are you ready for some lunch?" Michael asked. He turned his back to me to grab his wallet. 

"Yeah, definitely," I said cheerfully, trying to mask my preoccupied thoughts. "Something casual, though. I don't think the wet-dog look is in right now," I joked. 

"Then Burgerhouse, it is." 

"You're supposed to say I look fit for the runway." I laced my fingers with his as we walked out the door. 

"Ah, I see; but would that be the truth?"

~~~

Devin was strolling along Gasoline Alley when I got back from lunch. I sped-walk to catch up with him. Even at a relaxed pace, his long legs took him a lot faster than my short ones. I finally gave in to my pride and called out his name. 

He turned around. "Just the person I wanted to see!"

"Ha ha," I said dryly, falling into step with him. 

"No really, when I came to see you this morning I dropped by to ask something, but then..." His lips curled into an amused smirk.

"Oh, well okay. But first, what about this?" I waved my watch in the air. 

He glanced at it for a second and shifted his gaze back in front of him. "What about it?"

"Weren't you the one that sent it?"

"When did Michael admit he wasn't the bearer of all good things?" He dodged the question.

"He didn't; I figured it out."

"I always knew you were a smart one," he remarked. 

I ignored the sarcasm and examined his expression closely as I asked, "Why did you do it?"

"You needed a new watch, didn't you?"

"That's beside the point," I said, exasperated. I stopped walking and looked him in the eye as he did the same. 

He sighed and put his hands in his pockets. The sun glistened on his already tanned skin and made his dark brown eyes look like pools of caramel. He seemed to be contemplating something. "If you want a solid reason I guess it could be called a payment in advance," he hesitated. 

Before, I would've laughed at his normally confident voice sounding so unsure. Now I just waited for him to continue. 

"I want you to be one of my crew members," he said slowly like he meant to test the water but instead accidentally dove headfirst. 

"What?" I exclaimed. That was the last thing I expected to come from his mouth. 

"The pit crew," he further explained. 

My shock didn't diminish. "No, I know what you're talking about. But why? I have absolutely no experience with that kind of job. I'm a 17 year-old mechanic, Devin—"

He cut me off. "I'm a 19 year-old race car driver; it doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does," I objected. "You've been training for this your whole life and your first race is in less than a month. I'm the last person you should be lining up for your pit crew." My voice raised as I tried to get my point across. Why is he asking me of all people? 

As if trying to be extra careful with his next words, he took a deep breath and said, "Look, I talked with your dad and we both think you'd be a good Inside Front Tire Changer. It is a demanding job, so I get it if you don't want to, but you shouldn't be saying no because you don't think you're good enough."

I considered his words for a minute, miffed at how reasonable they were. Him and my dad weren't wrong, I probably would be a decent Inside Front Tire Changer since I was small and fast. Though I wasn't exactly the least clumsy candidate.

Then the thought came to me. I'm definitely the most unconventional candidate. Women were noticeably absent when it came to the racing scene, especially over the wall. "You're not... doing this for the publicity, are you?"

He scoffed, seeming to get my drift pretty quickly. "No, Larissa. This isn't me winning favor with the media. I just want people I know I can trust." 

"And you think I can do the job?" I stated more than asked. 

"Absolutely. Keep in mind you're looking at a rookie crew here, not Team Penske." 

"Who is your sponsor, anyway?" I wondered, remembering the dark blue color of his Indycar. 

A smug look appeared on his face as he listened to me getting into the minor details. "Culver's." 

I shared in his complacent smile as I asked, "Does this mean I get free food from them?"

"I guess you'll have to find out." He shrugged and walked away. "Think about it, kay?" he called over his back. 

I stood for a moment in the middle of Gasoline Alley, watching his laid-back demeanor as he stopped at one of the garages and talked to a mechanic. This Devin didn't seem any different than the one I met a few weeks ago, but my opinion of him did. 

~~~

Took me a bit to write this chapter and I'm sure I could be editing it til doomsday but I finally went and posted it lol. What do we think about this new turn of events? Don't forget to vote if you liked! xoxo, Elle