Before You Go

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

"A strong start for Yang's 2024 season, and I think he's surprised us all, really. To be such a powerhouse on the track is one thing, but to do it in a midfield car is another. Truly, truly impressed these past few days. Yang has proven himself time and time again this weekend, and I can't wait to see what he brings to the race tomorrow."

I chewed on my thumbnail as I listened to the TV commentator. Quali had wrapped up nicely for Charlie, who had taken pole, and as begrudging as I was, he had earned it. It wasn't even that I wanted to see him fail—but in his proving himself, he had also validated my father, and that I definitely hated.

It was also somewhat unnerving given the fact that photos of us on Thursday night had surfaced Friday morning. Already, the internet was swept up in the rumors, and I had begun the dreaded doom scrolling sometime last night, sifting through comments and hypotheticals and enough trashy headlines to make anyone sick to their stomach.

F1 HAS FINALLY CAUGHT HER EYE! DAUGHTER AND SISTER OF RACING LEGACIES JOOHUYN AND JOSHUA PARK SPOTTED WITH 2023 WORLD CHAMPION CHARLIE YANG.

As if that weren't bad enough, the first of Charlie's interviews I'd tuned into had ended with a reporter asking him to confirm or deny the dating rumors. I'd been mortified to have my name mentioned at all on media day, much less to Charlie, who I knew had much more important and interesting things he'd want to talk about.

"I've known June a long time," was what he'd said in reply that day, with a tight jaw and an incoming frown. "I'm very protective of her. Joshua was my best friend, and I do not plan to discuss my personal relationship with her at this time."

It was dismissive enough to squash the topic of conversation, but vague enough that people began to speculate. Charlie's name was flying all over the internet now—more so than usual, at least—and this time, my name was right there beside his. It hadn't been like this since we were in our late teens, and the idea of being put under the microscope again made my stomach churn.

As if to add fuel to the fire, my father had been blowing up my phone since the first news story had broken, calling almost every other half hour—presumably in between or in the midst of all the meetings he had—never leaving a voicemail, instead letting the implications of him reaching out hang over my head.

I knew he was banking on intimidating me away. It was the tactic he'd always used, and maybe before New Year's and Charlie, it would've worked. But now I was here, and for just one weekend, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of pushing me to the edge.

It was why, despite my gut and all my logic urging me to stay away, I picked up the phone when Charlie called me late Saturday night.

I'd even been planning to head to bed early, having showered and climbed beneath the covers when my phone lit up on the nightstand, a beacon in the dark. "Shouldn't you be sleeping by now?" I asked by way of hello, rolling onto my back to stare at the ceiling. A strange feeling swelled in my chest as I waited for him to respond.

After a long beat, he said, "Yeah. I should be. But I'm not sure I can until I see you."

"Isn't it bad luck to see the driver before their big day?"

"Ha ha. I thought maybe I could swing by where you're staying and drop off your pass for tomorrow. Again, no pressure about going. I just want you to have it."

Charlie, in my hotel room? Talk about a bad idea. I'd eaten chips on the couch this afternoon, so there were crumbs everywhere. My suitcase was practically lost under the mound of worn clothes I'd piled lazily on top of it, my socks discarded all throughout the house. I had two bikinis hanging on the shower rod to dry. And that was all I could actively think of.