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“Yeah, it does.”
“You’ve been to one? Where?” she asks, animatedly.
See, this is what I like about Keaton. Any other chick wouldn’t give a damn about races, but Keaton gets it. She speaks my language.
“When I was twelve, my mom and I went with my aunt and uncle and cousin, Madelyn. We drove out to Vegas for a race,” I tell her, smiling fondly at the memory.
“Damn,” she smiles back, “that must have been awesome.”
“Yeah, and loud,” my grin matches hers, and a warmth builds in my chest.
“Gah, I would love to experience that, at least once,” she says.
“We should go to one sometime,” I blurt out without thinking.
“Oh?” she chuckles, lifting her brows at me.
“Yeah, why not? It’s been forever since I’ve gone to a race and not been part of it. It would be fun,” I shrug one shoulder, watching her mull over the idea.
“Yeah, maybe,” she says, and I feel like I just won the lottery. Maybe is not a no.
An awkward silence stretches between us for a few seconds as we stare at one another, and I’m not ready to go back to my room just yet.
I’ve been nervous all day, wondering whether Keaton was going to back out. I hadn’t heard from her since early yesterday morning when she let me know that she would be coming, but there was a lot of time during the day for her to change her mind. When I’d called down to the front desk about an hour ago, the concierge said that my guest hadn’t arrived yet, and that’s when I really started to get antsy. I must have flipped through every available channel on TV waiting for an appropriate amount of time to pass before calling back down, but when I heard movement in her room next door, I leaped up and raced over, unable to wait any longer.
“So, have you eaten yet?” I ask.
“No,” she says a little exaggeratedly, eyes going wide like she might just eat the first thing she can get her hands on.
Excuse me while I just take a step closer.
“Well, let’s get you fed, then.” I rub my hands together and move toward the phone.
“Oh, I can go find something, you don’t have to—”
“It’s cool. I haven’t eaten either. We just got back to the hotel a bit ago,” I lie, not wanting to admit that I purposely waited for her to get here in hopes that we could eat together.
“All right, if you insist,” she laughs softly.
“I do,” I say with a wink before calling down for room service.
“Starting fourth is still really good,” Keaton says, setting her napkin on top of her empty dinner plate and pushing it to the side. The remnants of our meal surround us as we talk about the race tomorrow.
“Yeah, I’m pretty happy with it. Breckenridge starts ninth, but I don’t know that she’s ever raced a road-course before, so I think there’s a good chance that I might be able to beat her,” I say, and Keaton watches me silently, her eyes scrutinizing.
“What?” I ask.
“You know that saying, keep your eyes on the prize?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“Well, I think it’s less about the prize and more about staying focused on yourself and not the people around you,” she explains.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that the more you focus on Lacey and what she’s doing, the less you’ll be able to focus on your own racing. If you’re constantly watching her, then how are you ever going to see the finish line in front of you? Chances are, you’ll end up missing it all together.”
I sit and ponder that bit of information for a minute, considering for the first time that maybe I’ve been wrong. Wouldn’t my dad love to hear me admit that? I wait silently as Keaton continues.
