Page 132 of Until The Lights Go Out

“Can you maybe lower your voice?” I hissed through my fingers.

“No, absolutely not. This is the best thing that’s happened to me all year.”

I shoved her shoulder while laughing helplessly. “You’re so annoying.”

“And you’re in love with Theo Bauer, the world’s favorite asshole. We all have our crosses to bear.”

We spent the afternoon wandering aimlessly through Vienna, stopping in tiny boutiques Serena insisted we absolutely had to go into, buying things neither of us needed. She talked me into a ridiculously expensive lip gloss, two sweaters, and a pair of boots I was fairly certain would give me blisters within hours.

“Beauty is pain,” she informed me while carrying three shopping bags and an iced coffee simultaneously.

“That sentence means nothing.”

At some point, we ended up sitting outside a tiny café tucked along a cobblestone street, a plate of pastries between us while Serena aggressively recapped every piece of gossip I’d missed back home.

“And then Chloe literally threw a drink at him.”

“No!” I gasped around a bite of pastry.

“Yes!” Serena leaned across the table dramatically. “Apparently he cheated with her private tennis instructor at the country club.”

“That is such a specifically rich person sentence.”

“I know,” she sighed happily before taking a sip of coffee. “God, I missed you.”

The words settled warmly in my chest.

“I missed you too.”

The rest of the day blurred into girlhood in the purest form. Serena dragged me into a vintage bookstore where we spent 40 minutes reading ridiculous romance blurbs aloud to each other dramatically. We took photos in a photobooth tucked inside an old shopping arcade. We shared fries while sitting on the edge of a fountain. And somewhere between laughing until my stomach hurt and Serena fixing my smudged eyeliner in the bathroom mirror of a fancy restaurant, I realized I hadn’t thought about the crash once all day when usually the memories held on with their claws for a few weeks.

“So I have to tell you something…” Serena admitted as we wandered down the cobblestone street in search of somewhere to eat.

Vienna buzzed softly around us, café music drifting through open windows while people filled the sidewalks. Serena had her sunglasses pushed up into her hair despite the clouds rolling in overhead, her expression unusually serious as she glanced over at me.

“Okay?” I said cautiously.

“You cannot tell a soul.”

“Never.”

“No seriously, Maisey.”

I laughed. “Now I’m scared.”

She stopped walking entirely before turning toward me fully. “I might be getting looked at for a seat next year.”

“What?” I nearly shouted, the word echoing embarrassingly loud before I dropped my voice into a frantic whisper. “What?”

A grin exploded across her face at my reaction. “I know.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” I grabbed both her arms. “I thought all the secret meetings were about the tester for Valora racing and sponsorships.”

“So did I!” Serena looked seconds away from combusting herself now. “But they had me do simulation testing a few months ago, and apparently Kaz loved my data.”

My jaw physically dropped.

“And now,” she continued breathlessly, “they’re talking about adding another team to the grid. Sort of like a junior team except still fully Formula One. Apparently they’ve got huge sponsors interested, and they want it branded around developing women in motorsport.”