Collided (Dirty Air Series Book 2)

I only agreed to attend a Bandini sponsor event because my dad forced me earlier. He rejected my request to book a flight back home early, claiming no daughter of his will miss the Championship after all this time.

We sit together at an empty table in a dark corner. I shove my food around my plate while my dad stares at me, his watchful eyes narrowing at me after my fork clatters against the fancy plate for the third time this evening.

“What’s wrong with you? You love pasta.”

I lift a shoulder in a half-assed shrug. “I’m not hungry. Just not feeling well today.”

“You said the same thing yesterday and the day before. Ever since you had a sleepover at Maya’s.” His pointed stare does nothing to me. “You know, being full of bullshit isn’t a sickness. It’s an allergic reaction to not sharing your feelings.”

Oh, Dad. So perceptive.

“Catch flights, not feelings.” Do I make sense anymore? The jury’s still out.

I take a sip of wine. My dad grabs the glass once I put it down, holding it hostage. My lip juts out while my eyes plead for him to let go of the subject.

“This has to do with that boy. I refuse to let you whimper around like a kicked dog when I raised you better than this.” Ouch. “Either you tell me what happened, or I’ll go talk to him. Don’t put it past me, Sophie Marie Mitchell.”

Under no circumstance do I want him to go talk to Liam, so I give in to protect us both.

“I ended up falling for Liam.” Those six words take every ounce of courage from me.

“So what? Everyone knows that.”

My head snaps from my plate to my dad’s face. “What do you mean?”

Either I’m about as transparent as the wine glass he holds, or my dad really is some undercover Interpol agent.

“You’re my daughter. Whenever you look at Liam, you get this look in your eye that I’ve never seen before. Not even when you check out pasta. It’s obvious how you feel about him. And he looks at you similarly.”

“How are you so nonchalant about this?”

“What do you expect me to do? Yell at you? You’re twenty-two now.”

“Uh, yeah. Maybe even storm out of the ballroom after we have at it.”

My dad sighs. “I’ve been dealing with enough drama this year with Noah and Santi. You and Liam have kept your own stuff under wraps for the most part, minus the slipup with the press conference.”

“So, you’re not mad about me breaking your rule?”

“Oh, I’m mad. But I can’t exactly say ‘I told you so’ when you’re about one wine glass away from crying into your dinner.”

I sigh at my dad’s wakeup call. “Wow. You need to work on your delivery. No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.”

He chuckles. “Look at you, making a joke. Why don’t you talk to me about whatever’s going on? Your old man here used to deal with his own lady problems before I married my job and became a single dad. I made plenty of stupid mistakes growing up. But I’ll tell you one thing: anyone who earns your love better be worthy because your heart takes up more than half your body. You carry more soul in your pinky than some people have in their whole bodies.”

My dad’s kind words bring a small smile to my face.

“Well, it all started with a terrible princess costume and a party you forced me to go to.”

He rubs a hand across his face. “I better grab us more wine; I have a feeling this is going to be a long one.”

I let out a laugh at my dad’s retreating form. For the first time in days, I feel relief.

Speaking to my dad yesterday about Liam opened up a whole new set of wounds. I didn’t realize how far I had fallen until I shared my story from start to finish, leaving me vulnerable and lost. Despite my confessions, my dad handled it like a champ, offering a few pieces of advice, along with denying my request to fly home early yet again.

Instead of stewing in my sadness on a flight back to Italy, I get an up-close and personal show of my own demise, set up by my beautiful best friend.

Maya: This is your hourly reminder to not bail on me tonight. You won’t like what happens if you do. ?

Me: Threats work better when you don’t include a smiling emoji.

Maya responds by sending me the same emoji paired with a knife. I get dressed and look my best because I need to. If I’m going to pour my heart out to Maya at the expense of seeing Liam, I better look the part of an uncaring person. Nothing screams screw love quite like an open-back dress.

A couple hours later, I find Maya mingling in the gala’s crowd, her sparkly dress nabbing my attention. My hand wraps around the stem of her half-full champagne glass.

“Hey, I was drink—” She stops dead in her tracks.

Either I have an amazing poker face that stuns her, or I look as wild as I feel on the inside. I knock back the contents in a couple gulps, the cool liquid trickling down my throat.

I dub this version of myself as post-Liam.

“Remember during our sleepover when you told me to give Liam some time? That maybe he’d come around to accepting his feelings about me?”

She nods along, attempting to smile but deciding on a frown instead.

“Well, nothing has changed. I’m falling deeper and deeper into trouble by the day.” I pout my lip to stop it from trembling.

Maya’s frown deepens. “What kind of trouble?”

“The cleanup in aisle ten because my heart exploded on the ice cream section’s floor type.”

A passing waiter makes an appearance. My hands grip his sleeve, not letting him go anywhere without hearing my request. “Sir, can we please have another round of champagne? Stat.” The man has a nose for heartbreak because he dashes away.

Maya offers me a sincere smile. “I’m sorry. I thought he would wake up and realize how much of an idiot he’s been.”

“Before we continue, we need alcohol. Lots of alcohol.”

Maya nods in understanding.

My dear friend the waiter shows up with not one but two champagne bottles. He’d be a man after my heart—that is, if I still had one.

We each grab the bottle from the tray and take off toward a corner of the gala. I learned nothing from my previous corner experience, but at least this time I have good company. Maya and I take sips straight from the bottle, forgoing the glasses, chugging between my confessions. We’re an image of etiquette and grace, sitting on the floor behind a table hiding us from other partygoers. I share everything with Maya, not skimping out on details.

I sip champagne every time I want to laugh or cry, which turns out to be rather often. A few tears escape, and Maya ends up crying with me, proving how I picked a winner for a friend.

By the time I drain half the bottle, I become a giggling mess, running on caloric fumes and poor decisions. I regret not eating a proper dinner because a cupcake doesn’t count as an essential part of the food pyramid.

“I hope you know—” I hiccup “—how much I appreciate you.”

“You’ve only told me three times so far. But I love the gratitude.” She laughs before taking another sip of champagne.

“How did you know you loved Noah?” Another hiccup escapes my lips.

“When it hurt more to be without him than with him.”

“I don’t think Liam loves me.” I hold back the tears.

“Why do you say that?”

I frown. “Because he didn’t exactly proclaim his love for me when I admitted my feelings.”

“And it was so brave of you to try. Maybe he has trouble sharing how he loves you, especially with his shitty contract deal and the pressure he’s under. He might be afraid of letting you down. But I don’t doubt he loves you.”

I take another large gulp of champagne. “He needs to drive more than he needs to breathe. That means I’m out of the picture, replaced by a tempting contract and a brand-new season.”

“Right. But what’s a contract if you can’t be with the person you love.”

“I told you he doesn’t love me.”

Maya rolls her eyes. “Really? Because the way he keeps staring at you from his spot by the bar tells me differently.”

I look up from the top of the table to find Liam hanging out with Jax and Noah, his eyes finding mine like two magnets. My eyes narrow before I slip back to the floor.

“Do you think if I hide under the table, he won’t find me?” The idea has a certain amount of credibility to it.

“You never know. Maybe we can convince Santi to cause a diversion.” Maya looks around for her brother.

“Okay, text him.” I pass Maya her clutch that houses her phone.

“Never mind, I think the jig is up.” She giggles as Noah plops himself next to her.

I point at Noah with a scowl. “You skedaddle. This is our girl time.”

Noah ignores me as his face nuzzles Maya’s neck.

“Sorry, Sophie. Noah, stop.” She pushes him away with little effort. He grabs her bottle of champagne and chugs it, choosing to wipe his mouth with the sleeve of his tux.

“You guys are disgusting. Truly, I’m nauseous from looking at you.”

“You’re nauseous because you drank your weight in champagne.” Noah taps his bottle to mine.

A pair of shoes stops in front of me, my drunken reflection shining off the leather. I look up, thinking I’ll find Liam, except Jax’s smiling face greets me. His crazy curls are kept down with rows of short braids, and his grin does little to comfort me. A pang of something happens in my chest at seeing Jax instead of Liam, but my brain feels too numb to register the sensation.

“Come on, love. Leave the two of them to get their rocks off.” Jax squats down, his hazel eyes leveling with mine. “Let’s turn that frown upside down. What do you say? We don’t have to tell Liam because the wanker’s been in a terrible mood ever since your little romp in the desert.”

I grab his extended hand while picking up the champagne bottle, not willing to part ways just yet.

Jax tsks at me like he scorns a child. His tattooed hand wraps around the bottle, faux skeleton fingers pulling at the neck and placing it on a random table. “I think we’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.”

“Says the man who chugs champagne for a living.”

“Hey, I may be a world champion at chugging bubbly for a living, but I place on some podiums too.” He winks at me.

I laugh until I start hiccupping again. Jax talks like he doesn’t have an F1 World Championship win under his belt.

He leads us through the crowd, going slow since I continuously trip over my sneakers. My eyes land on Liam who stands by himself, dark and gloomy in a corner. I give him a lame wave with wiggling fingers. His frown deepens, not amused by my sudden friendliness.

Jax takes me outside the ballroom. We ride an elevator down to the ground level, the silence between us giving way to confusion at why he wants to help me. I hurt his best friend. His help doesn’t make sense unless Liam sent him.

Stop wishing for things that aren’t there, Sophie.

I don’t get a chance to ask him because once we walk outside and fresh air hits me, my stomach rolls and my head swims. My body teeters.

“Oh no, you don’t.” Jax grabs my hair before the champagne betrays me, my stomach revolting against me as acid hits my throat.

“Shit, Sophie. I really loved these shoes. You’re lucky my best mate loves you enough to buy me a new pair.”

I don’t remember anything else except for Jax’s voice, sounding more concerned than pissed. My world fades to black, a welcome feeling to ease me from the ache in my chest, pain giving in to numbness.