Page 10 of Crash Course

This is massive news, the kind that will rock the entire grid. A driver with Dekker’s reputation racing for the world’s most famous team getting cut in the middle of the season is shocking. It’ll change the face of F1 for the rest of the year or more.

“That for me?” Megan nods to one of two coffee cups I set on the writing desk attached to her seat.

“I stopped at The Junction on the way to campus. You said you didn’t like the coffee in the dining hall.”

It’s such a small gesture, but she beams. “Thanks. You’re the sweetest.”

I manage a smile in return but caffeine feels trivial in light of this ARI revelation. The entire class is buzzing with it.

I thought I knew from the media how callous Luca Ashford was, but this throws me. If he’s this impatient with his drivers, he’s probably one step closer to firing mechanics like my dad.

I’m still thinking about it as the professor in our racing strategy class walks in. I’m surprised to see it’s a woman in her fifties, with gray hair pulled back in a short ponytail. As she arranges her books on the lectern, Jameson and Theo Ashford enter, locked in conversation with a few other drivers.

Theo looks like he just rolled out of bed, probably not alone. His hair is messy and his shirt is unbuttoned, his bright eyes full of mischief and humor. I take a second to enjoy the view. His brother could be on his way to a photo shoot, his shirt perfectly tailored, not a hair out of place. Or maybe to a funeral, judging from his grim expression.

Theo nods to the professor, a sheepish smile on his handsome face, and takes a seat in the second row. Jameson claims the end of the row. Probably in case he needs to make a quick escape to mow down more unsuspecting women.

“I’m Professor Vogel.” Her voice carries a light European accent. “If you think I’m going easy on anyone because of your course load or your name”—her gaze lands on the Ashfords—“you’re mistaken. You want to work on the fastest cars in the world? The Ashfords have the fastest car on the grid.”

“Not the fastest,” I say under my breath, thinking of last night.

Jameson cuts a look this way, as if he heard me.

“Are there questions?” Vogel asks, scanning the crowd.

A hand goes up from a guy a few rows ahead of me. “What’s happening with Dekker?”

“Who’ll get the seat?” someone from the driver’s side asks.

Vogel’s arms fold. “I can’t comment on ARI decisions. This is a racing academy. I suggest you focus your attention on learning and forget the gossip.”

Excited murmurs start up.

I raise a hand.

“Yes, Miss…”

“MacDonald. Shay.”

I swear her lips purse. “Miss MacDonald.”

“How can we help make them faster?” A few chuckles go up and I ignore them. “That’s what everyone wants, isn’t it?”

Theo Ashford grins in my direction as if I said something charming. Jameson’s gaze lingers on me. I feel it down to my toes.

“You wanna go fast, I’ll help you out,” a guy near Theo tosses.

“Shut your mouth, Knox,” Megan says, too low for him to hear across the room. “God knows where it’s been.”

Raj shushes her and Zane just shakes his head.

“You don’t have the first clue what it takes to put together a race car.” Jameson Ashford shifts back in his seat, but somehow it feels like aggression, not retreat. His jaw is razor sharp, his lips pressed into a hard line as he stares me down. “You’re some math nerd who squeaked through on an entrance exam.”

A hush falls over the lecture hall.

The heat in my stomach is the kind no antacid can touch. Knox’s lewd comment was irritating, but this high-handedness from the rich asshole who drove into me is worse.

You won’t tell a soul. His words from yesterday come back, whispering along my brain like poisonous fumes.