I sink into the plush chair, kicking off my trainers and planting my feet on edge of the chair as I slide it into the recline. It’s a seven-hour flight and I can’t wait to get comfy. I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe I’m finally getting everything I’ve ever wanted.
The whole plane is abuzz, small groups of important people talking and making calls until the sound of footsteps on the stairs echoes and everyone falls silent as Kian Walker joins us.
Christ. Up close he’s even hotter than in his pictures.
I jump up on from my seat. My big mouth, with no bloody filter, seizes control of my brain before I can think twice, and I find myself saying, “All right, Walker? How’s it going, mate?”
The grimace on his face is enough to shut me up, but then he side-eyes all the official people watching and quickly offers me a tight smile.
“Harper. Welcome to the team.”
That’s all I get though. He nudges his backpack further up onto his shoulders and heads for the chair furthest away from mine.
Everyone goes back to their own tasks until the captain tells us to buckle up and the doors are latched closed. We’re taxiing to the runway before I can really, truly grasp how much Kian Walker has just blown me off.
Outside of his stats, I don’t actually know a huge amount about him. He’s a notoriously private person who doesn’t put much of himself online or open up to the media about his life. I know he’s got two famous parents – Tyler Heath, of course, and his mum is Chastity Walker. She was a global superstar back in the day with a string of pop hits that still get played on the radio and re-mixed.
His dad really did have it all, but then everything came crashing down when he cheated on his pregnant wife… and got the other woman pregnant at the same time. Chastity disappeared from the limelight, heartbroken and humiliated.
But now, here I am, on the same team as their son. He’s got all his dad’s racing prowess and his mum’s work ethic and creativity. How often do you get the chance to meet your hero? More than that – to be his teammate?
As the jet begins to level out in the sky, and before I can stop myself, I unbuckle my seatbelt and go to find Kian. He chose a spot on its own at the back and I make my way over, perching on a low table by the side of his seat.
His eyes are closed and he’s lying back in his seat, but that doesn’t stop me. I’ve never been great at self-control, and it doesn’t occur to me to exercise any in this moment.
“Hey, Kian.”
No reply.
I wave my hand in front of his face, like an idiot, as though that will get his attention. Obviously he can’t see me.
“Kian?”
Nothing.
I place my hand on his knee and shake it. His eyes quickly fly open.
“What the fuck?” he growls, pulling earbuds out of his ears. I hadn’t spotted those under the mass of hair that could desperately do with a good cut.
“Sorry, man. Just thought I’d come over and see how you’re doing… get to know my new teammate.”
He shakes his head like I’m something he can’t quite believe, but I’m not quite sure what I’ve done to cause this reaction. There are plenty of other drivers I’ve pissed off over the years who would be justified in reacting this way – or worse. I’ve slept with the odd brother or hurled a drink at a person or two on a bad night out. But, Kian Walker? What have I ever done to him? Nothing. Not even a drunken mistake. I wouldn’t need any fingers to count the number of night outs I’ve seen him on. I don’t think he even showed up to the Hendersohn Christmas party last year.
“You’re all good. I think I know enough about you,” he replies.
I know enough about you. That’s what he says? Like, I’m glad he at least knows who I am because it would be beyond embarrassing otherwise, but the way he says it makes me think everything he knows is bad.
“Right. Okay. Well, this has been enlightening.” I stand up and practically jog back to my seat.
Plopping myself down in the chair, I struggle to get comfortable. Not something I thought I’d be feeling on a private jet, but a weird energy is eating away at me.
I toss and turn, even reclining the chair flat and pulling a fluffy blanket over me, but it doesn’t work. Eventually I get out my phone and connect to the plane’s WI-FI.
I think Kian Walker hates me.
I send the text to Johannes and thankfully three dots appear quickly.
You aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, James.
Plus, he’s quite uptight and you’re probably winding him up, if I know you.
All I did was say hi and try to get to know him, but he just said, and I quote, ‘I know enough about you’.
What the hell did he mean by that? And how could he know enough? What was enough?
He’s not the most sociable guy with the rest of the drivers, but he and Elijah are close. Maybe he’s just tired or doesn’t fly well or something.
I contemplate his words. Maybe Jo’s right, or maybe he’s bummed that he’s lost his friend and now he’s stuck with me.
Maybe.
I look through the gaps in the seats at the great Kian Walker. He’s got his eyes closed, but still somehow doesn’t look truly comfortable either.
He’s definitely something. Something I can’t quite make sense of, yet.
The plane soars on over Europe and my last thought as I fall asleep is how can I convince Kian Walker that he doesn’t know nearly enough about me?
