500 mots).
The next day, no sooner had I picked up my phone than I saw a message from Yannish:
"Good morning."
I widened my eyes and replied immediately:
"Good morning."
He initiated the discussion:
— "Sleep well?"
— "Yes, thank you. And you?"
— "Same. I wanted to check in on you, we ended things a little tense yesterday."
— "I confirm. But it's your fault."
— "I am aware of that. So I apologize, once again, Babe."
I remained speechless for a moment, not knowing how to respond to these apologies that appeared out of nowhere. Then I typed:
— "It's too easy."
— "Then what do you want me to do to make it up to you?"
— "No idea. You'll find what you need."
— "For now, I'm still in training, so I can't invite you to dinner. But by Christmas, I'll surely be back to celebrate with family. We'll see each other, and I'll have a surprise for you. Is that okay?"
My heart skipped a beat. He would be here for Christmas? I smiled foolishly at the screen, as if things were finally softening.
— "Okay. I'll wait."
— "Perfect. Have a good day, baby. We'll talk later."
— "Have a good day too."
His message was full of attention. I felt like we were finally starting something more sincere. Maybe we just got off to a bad start. But I had to remain vigilant — with him, anything could still change.
I jumped out of bed, got dressed, and headed to the university.
Time flew by at a frantic pace. Mock exams were approaching before the January finals, and I had barely studied anything. I needed to get serious.
Sitting at my desk, I was scribbling a strict schedule on my tablet when Prince sat down next to me, unusually silent.
— What are you doing here?
— And you, when did you arrive?
— I know you're no friend of silence, I launched with a corner smile.
— Let's just say I'm fed up with classes, and I feel like skipping today.
— Nonsense! Mock exams are soon, and you want to skip classes?
He glanced at my tablet and read aloud mockingly:
— "Study at 5 p.m. at the library and turn off my phone."
He burst out laughing. — You'll never do it.
— And why is that?
— Because first you'll say you're hungry, then you're tired, and you'll go home to sleep.
I rolled my eyes.
— I don't have a choice, so no need to discourage me, idiot.
— I'm not discouraging you... but today, skip class with me.
— You're insane, honestly!
— Just for today, come on... please, he said with eyes like a beaten puppy.
— And what would we do, exactly?
— Karaoke!
— Pff... I skip class to go singing? Seriously?
I gathered my things to go to the classroom, but he grabbed my arm.
— Okay, not karaoke... we'll go karting.
I turned to him, incredulous.
— Not even in your dreams! I hate driving! Do you want me dead or something?
— Babe, it's not the same, I promise you! You'll love it, trust me.
He gave me a confident wink.
— I'll never go with you. NEVER.
Five minutes later...
Helmet screwed on my head, jumpsuit two sizes too big, I stood in front of a small red kart that purred like a beast ready to pounce.
— Why do I always end up in these kinds of situations?! I muttered, exasperated.
Prince, roaring with laughter, adjusted his helmet.
— See? I told you, you were going to love it!
— Love it?! Look at me! I look like a Power Ranger in burn-out!
He burst out laughing as the instructor signaled us to approach.
I got into the kart, stiff as a board. The seat was tiny, the steering wheel rigid, and the engine vibrated right down to my legs.
— Go easy on the gas, and don't forget: the brake is on the left! Prince shouted from his kart.
— Got it, I know! I replied, screaming through my helmet, just before confusing the pedals.
The kart leaped forward like a rocket. I let out a high-pitched scream that made everyone around burst into laughter.
— I'm gonna die! Prince, I'm gonna die!
The instructor signaled me to slow down, but I had no idea how to do it. I turned sharply, narrowly missing the barrier. My visor fogged up, my hair stuck to my forehead, and I was sweating as if I had run a marathon.
Prince overtook me with arrogant ease.
— Come on, Babe, a little courage! It's not an electric scooter!
I raised my fist to threaten him, almost losing control.
And yet, after a few laps, something changed. The wind whipped my face, the engine roared, and a laugh escaped me despite myself.
Damn, he was right.
I took a perfect turn, passed Prince, and shouted through my helmet:
— Who's the pro now?!
He threw his hands up, roaring with laughter.
— I admit, you're a monster!
I smiled, breathless but proud. Maybe life, in the end, was a bit like that: rushing, screaming, laughing, and forgetting everything else for a moment.
We left the track still panting, our faces flushed from the heat of the helmet. I felt like I had run a marathon with a hairdryer stuck to my head.
— I think I lost three kilos just from sweating, I launched, removing my jumpsuit.
— Three kilos and a bit of pride too, right? Prince mocked with a big smile.
— Keep talking and I'll make you eat your helmet, I retorted quick as a flash.
He burst out laughing, that light laugh that always made him look like an insolent, but devilishly charming, kid.
I tried to keep my serious face, but it was impossible: a smile betrayed me.
We headed toward the circuit's small bar. The smell of tires gave way to that of burnt coffee and overly greasy fries. Prince placed two bottles of water on the table, sat across from me, and stared at me with a triumphant look.
— So? Say it.
— Say what?
— That I was right.
— Right about what?
— About you loving karting.
I took a sip of water, staring at him with calculated slowness.
— It was... decent.
— Decent? Are you kidding? You were focused as if your life depended on it.
— I was just trying not to die.
— And you survived. See? Thanks to me.
I rolled my eyes.
— If you want a medal, there's surely a souvenir shop on the way out.
— No need, your smile is enough, he murmured.
I felt my throat tighten slightly. It was almost imperceptible, but there was an unexpected softness in his voice, the kind he used when he stopped being the annoying Prince and became... human again.
A moment of silence settled. The kind of silence where words hang in the air, where the gaze speaks a little too much.
I looked away.
— Don't start, please.
— Start what? he asked with that innocent tone he mastered too well.
— That little game. You know very well what I'm talking about.
He sighed, rested his elbow on the table.
— Do you really think everything is a game to me?
— With you, yes.
— You underestimate me, Babe.
I looked at him, incredulous, but something in his voice stopped me from answering right away. It might have been the first time I perceived anything other than a provocative air from him.
He added more softly:
— If I brought you here, it wasn't to race. It was just to see you laugh a little. Lately, your eyes looked tired.
I remained silent.
That was rare, coming from him.
I lowered my eyes slightly, taken off guard by such sincerity.
— Do you realize you just said something almost cute? I said to break the tension.
— Yeah, don't let it become a habit, he replied, smiling.
Prince glanced around the small bar, looking like someone who already wanted a change of scenery.