According to Brendon—while Sydney has more to see, Melbourne has more to do. It makes sense considering the self-proclamation that it's the sporting capital of the world.
Jun peeks around the corner of his seat with a mai tai in his hand. "What?"
"Nothing." I tuck my phone back into the slot by the armrest. "How much longer do we have?"
He leans forward in his seat and presses the screen a few times, bringing up the flight status. "Two more hours."
"Great," I grumble. "Remind me why I agreed to go to this thing."
"Because you like to prove a point, even if it means sacrificing yourself to half a day of flying."
It's tempting to open the window and look outside so I feel less like I'm stuck in this bubble—literal if we count the plane as one—but I'm not a dick who wants to piss everyone else off in the cabin. If there's one thing I've learned about flying first class, it's that people with excessive disposable income will complain about every little thing.
"Admit it," Jun teases, leaning across the armrest to get in my face. "You're excited."
I shove the divider up in his face which he quickly slides back down. "I'll deny everything if you tell anyone else," I warn.
Jun mimes zipping his lips shut.
"It's mostly 'cause I can't wait to try all this food," I continue, pulling up the notes app so I can show him the places I want to go to. We're there for less than a week so it's unlikely I'll be able to go to all of them, but a girl can dream. "I brought an extra duffle bag just for snacks and omiyage."
"I'm sure Marty will appreciate the reminder he couldn't come with us."
"Damned if we do, damned if we don't," I reply. Our assistant Jenny is sitting in front of us with her nose buried in a book. "Jen is smart. Jen doesn't have kids so she can go wherever she wants, whenever she wants."
"Getting paid to do it doesn't hurt either," Jun laughs. He crumples up the straw wrapper from his drink and tosses it in her direction, earning a middle finger in return.
"You mean to say she doesn't stress out over us because it's her passion in life?"
"I don't think that's the case, no."
Jenny turns around in her seat while her finger continues to scroll down the page she's viewing on her phone. Multitasking is her real passion, as she's proudly stated before.
"So, who wants to go shopping tomorrow?" she asks.
Jun and I look at each other. "We're going to Chinatown and stuffing our faces."
She grimaces. "After Chinatown then."
"I don't know but it'll probably involve more food."
"Stevie," she moans, resting her chin down against the top of her seat. "We have one day before we're whisked away into a tornado of gasoline and too much testosterone."
I cross my arms in front of my chest and lean back in my seat. "Why do you want to go shopping there anyway? It's expensive. You're better off blowing all your money back home."
"Because," Jenny rolls her eyes so hard they look like they're going to spin a full three-sixty, "you're morally obligated to spoil yourself on vacation. There's no guilt involved."
"Speak for yourself," Jun scoffs.
"Fine," Jenny huffs and drops back down into her seat. The seclusion of her first-class seat hides her from view, but we're aware she's emotionally flipping us off. "I'll rope Lauren in. She never lets me down."
Now that we're back in our little bubble, Jun turns to me. "Bash didn't offer you a tour of his hometown?"
I keep a straight face and pretend to be fascinated with this game on my phone. Sorting water into vials is riveting entertainment when you're trying to avoid talking about someone everyone else seems enamored with.
"He's busy," I reply.
It's not not the truth. After securing a second-place spot on the podium this past Sunday, he's no doubt looking to boost himself into the winning position for his home race.
I'll never admit this to anyone else in the group, aside from Lauren who walked in on me and whom I'd made promise she wouldn't tell anyone, but I watched a few of the videos posted on the official F1 YouTube account. The drivers were all asked about what some of their favorite tracks were, and many of them had answered their home Grand Prix.
It makes sense. We haven't played in Hawaii for a while, but putting on a show for a home crowd is second to none. There's a sense of pride in knowing I'm not only representing my home, but also this insatiable need to be the best version of myself I can be.
Aside from a few texts with suggestions of places we should visit on our day off, we haven't talked much. We're not friends, and he's got a lot riding on this race. He's managed to pull himself up into third place with the last race and a home Grand Prix win will only further boost his standing in the points.
I don't expect to see him much outside of the race weekend and that's fine. This is more or less a business transaction. While I'm hoping I'll enjoy the experience more than I'm expecting to, I'm not holding out for anything to blow my mind.
It's just people racing, after all.
"He's hot," Jun adds, lowering his voice so even Jenny can't hear him. "Nobody will blame you for trying it."
"You make it sound like he's a snack." Realizing what I've said, I hold a finger up and press my eyes shut. "Forget I said that."
"You overthink everything." Jun stops me from placing both of my earbuds in. "I get the whole not wanting to give the press something to talk about, but you've been under a dry spell for way too long."
"I can take care of myself, thank you very much."
He rolls his eyes. "I don't just mean sex. An emotional bond. Anything other than just burying yourself in your work."
Hiding behind the guise that I just don't want the attention is easy because most people understand it's something that comes with the territory of being in the public eye. While its inevitability doesn't make it right and paparazzi are still parasites who feed off of others' misery, it's something I've learned to deal with.
But while someone's name might become more known, most people don't talk about how much more lonely the world feels. It's not something anyone understands until they're put in the situation themselves. We're constantly being whisked away from one place to the next, often not getting the chance to make a real connection to the places we visit or the people we meet. Faces flash by me in a blur and names become so incoherent they barely sound like someone speaking any real language.
Getting into a relationship isn't impossible in this industry, but it's definitely more work than it was for me back before all of this chaos happened. After years of committing myself to this career and making all of my wildest dreams come true, I've resigned to not settling for anything for a while.
Maybe that's why I'm most thrown about the rest of the group's need to play into this idea that there's something more between Brendon and me. We haven't given them a reason to suspect something. And he spends most of his time on the other side of the globe. Living part-time next door to us isn't conducive to a promising relationship, aside from the already lacking interest and chemistry.
"I promise, I'm not trying to poke a nerve," Jun continues. "I just don't want you to keep pushing people away because you think you need to choose. It's possible to have both."
"You make me sound like a walking stereotype. Here she is, another woman who needs to figure out how to balance her professional life with her romantic one."
Jun holds up his hands in defense. "Hey, I'm just calling it like it is. It's not a bad thing. People everywhere go through this same issue. We just live it on a larger scale."
"Maybe if I meet the right person," I sigh, sinking further into the plush seat. "I just don't care to try right now."
Jun is willing to lay it all on the table, but he's not pushy enough to force me to commit to something. It's one thing I appreciate most about our friendship. We help each other see the truths the other might not be willing to admit themselves, but not force the other into a corner or send them flying in the other direction.
"Whenever it happens," he says, "just let it happen. It'll feel good. I promise."