The Force of Gravity

Chapter Seventeen

I shove myself into the back seat beside a large duffel bag. The heat is blasting audibly. Even though the back seat is frigid, the leather seats are a different story. The leather seats scald my hand, and I lift it quickly to my chest. Adjusting my hood, I try and pull it further over my head to avoid the prying eyes of fans and camera lenses. As soon as we exit the main gates, Lando reaches for the radio knob. Jon quickly smacks his hand away.

"Sorry about your drive," Jon directs at me.

"Yea," I let the last syllable trail from my moth a second longer than normal.

Jon opens his mouth, but Lando already fills the silence.

"The car felt great today," he begins. He trails off into specifics, so I tune out the conversation. This isn't a conversation I should be privy to.

Lando and Jon talk back and forth, and before I know it, we're at the hotel. Pulling my backpack from the backseat, I take in my surroundings. The hotel is relatively quiet, and the valet takes Jon's keys. Lando gives Jon a quick nod, and the trainer smirks and walks ahead. Trying to keep up, I lengthen my stride. But Lando holds back, and Jon doesn't look in my direction. So, I quickly slow down and meet Lando's pace.

"Do you want to talk about it? I've had my share of tough drives." Lando's voice is soft, audible only to me. There isn't a hint of pity, rather a tone of understanding and knowledge.

I shrug, "I don't think so." A low sigh deceives me, "I know there's nothing I could have done so I guess I don't want to harp on it."

Lando's low chuckle surprises me. Glancing up at him, I furrow my brows in confusion.

His playful eyes meet my own. "You don't look like you're letting it go."

He thumbs the back of my hood and pulls it from my head.

Taking my hands from my pocket, I elbow his side. "That's no way to treat a lady." I tsk.

He snickers and dramatically looks left then right, "why didn't you tell me! I don't see any ladies around."

Rolling my eyes, I press the up button beside the elevator.

Lando fiddles with the straps on his backpack. "I mean, we could always do something—that is if you need a distraction." He stutters.

I inspect his face for any sign of humor. He meets my eyes then looks back at his feet. His features are soft.

Before I can answer, the elevator doors swish open. He quickly shuffles in and trips over the small gap.

My giggle echoes in the small space. "What did you have in mind?" I ask after regaining my composure.

"Ping pong?" Lando asks clicking the button for the top floor.

"I'm floor 5," I say reaching towards the buttons.

"Ping pong is on the top though," he responds quickly.

"Just like me—after I beat you not," I correct myself.

Lando chuckles, "you don't know what you're in for."

"I hope you're referring to our match."

"Sure." He laughs.

Once the elevator stops, I follow Lando down the long hall. We reach an unmarked door.

"How do I know you're not luring me to my death?" I ask watching his hand on the knob.

"Yea, it's all a part of my master plan. I punctured your tire, so you'd be too annoyed to bike and come running into my arms." He throws open the door.