Page 19 of Spin Control

“We are not doing anything other than press conferences and media engagements.”

I pout. “But revenge is so much fun.”

Unbelievably, her lips quirk up. “Don’t worry, I got mine a long time ago.”

Satisfaction floods my body. Of course she made those bullies pay—probably publicly and in as humiliating a way as possible. She probably made it look like it was their own doing, too. “Care to enlighten me?”

“Don’t you need to be off, I don’t know, jumping rope or listening to some motivational podcast?”

“Nah,” I say. “The cardio comes later, and I’m not really into podcasts.”

She gives me an assessing look, and I have a feeling she’s about to tell me to fuck off so she can get back to work. When she closes her laptop and takes a deep breath, I have no idea if I should be bracing myself for another sharp-tongued dressing down or preparing to be swept up in a thrilling tale.

“I caught the first Beth cheating on her boyfriend with a girl from the field hockey team, so I blackmailed her into leaving me the hell alone,” Elizabeth says, her low, cool voice washing over me. “The second Beth took longer—years actually—but she was also the worst one. When everyone was home from college during the holidays, there was this house party that my sister convinced me to go to. I overheard Second Beth say she blew one of her professors in exchange for a better grade. I had no idea if she was lying, but I emailed the dean of her school all the same.”

“Hot damn,” I say, completely enthralled. “I didn’t expect these stories to be so juicy. But I’m not surprised to hear you’ve always been a vicious little thing.”

I nearly fall out of my chair when she smiles directly at me. It’s not like I was completely blind to it before, but Christ, this woman is beautiful.

“The third Beth was one of those condescending mean girls who could always pinpoint the exact way to cut you deepest,” Elizabeth says. “So I started a rumor about her. It was completely made up, but I told the biggest gossip in school that Third Beth’s dad ran one of those counterfeiting operations in Chinatown and that all of her designer bags were actually fakes.”

I clamp onto the personal details like a dragon hoarding treasure, immediately filing them away in my mental drawer with Elizabeth’s name on it. She has a sister. She grew up near New York. I wonder where. Now that I’m paying attention, there is something about her that screams East Coast. But her American accent is neutral, so she didn’t grow up in the city, let alone Long Island or New Jersey. Connecticut, then. Or one of those tony suburbs in Pennsylvania.

Elizabeth laughs lightly. “It was so petty, especially since it was easy for Beth Number Three to debunk the rumor. Even though people knew it wasn’t true, they’d bring it up to tease her since she was clearly bothered by it. At the time it felt like justice.”

I nod. “Okay. So now I get why Beth is out. But I still don’t know why Lizzy—”

Elizabeth makes a noise in her throat that I’m pretty sure is a growl, and I swear to God, I can feel it reverberating on my skin.

“Because I said no,” she says, her voice hard again. “Why can’t that be reason enough? Why won’t you respect that? Why do I need to give you an explanation? Why do men insist on testing women’s boundaries?”

Whoa. Okay. So this goes deeper than me pushing her buttons. But she’s also right. She has been very clear that she doesn’t want her name shortened. I knew that, and did it anyway because I thought it’d be amusing.

And though there is something addicting about getting a rise out of Elizabeth, I was also being a dick. Again.

“You’re right,” I say. “I was feeling restless and needed a distraction. So I messed with you. But I shouldn’t have done that. Or at least, not in the way that I did it.”

“So why did you?” she asks, her eyes on mine. It’s as if I’ve been pinned against a wall.

“Maybe I just wanted a reason to talk to you.” I don’t realize until it’s out of my mouth that it’s the truth. I wanted to talk to her. To be around her. To have her challenge me and put me in my place.

She shoots me a curious look. I wait for what comes next; for her assessment of that truth. But then she opens her laptop. “I need to get back to work. I’m sure you do, too.”

Right. Work.

“I have a race to prepare for, you know.”

“Break a leg or whatever,” Elizabeth says, though her focus remains on her screen.

“Considering this is F1, I think ‘bonne chance’ or ‘buona fortuna’ would be more appropriate.”

Elizabeth’s eyes meet mine. “Be grateful I didn’t tell you to go fuck yourself.”

I laugh as I exit the room.

But as I walk down the hall, I bask in the relief.

Because one conversation with Elizabeth banished every jitter from my body.