Chapter Theme:

Miami Nights 1984 - Ocean Drive

‘Are you ready?’

Seulgi wipes her forehead and takes a deep breath, trembling a slight. ‘Yeah,’ she says, biting her lip. ‘Yeah I am.’

‘Are you sure?’ Irene asks.

‘I’m sure.’

‘I’ll go slowly at first. Or at whatever pace you like.’

‘Really now.’

‘Do you want me to take it easy?’

‘No.’

‘Are you really sure you’re ready for this?’

‘Stop teasing.’

‘I’m not. I’m just asking. I want to be sure you’re ready for what’s going to happen next.’

‘I said I am.’

‘I could stop, you know? If that’s what you want me to do.’

‘Look,’ Seulgi says, mildly annoyed and turning in her seat. ‘If you’re going to be like this, I’m just going to take all my tokens and go home. Slow, fast – I don’t care.’

Irene only laughs. The look on Seulgi’s face is cute and harmless enough to encourage her to push a little further, to tease a little longer. ‘Alright,’ she says, ‘if you say so. But I’m warning you, I’m not going to go easy.’

‘I just don’t understand how you’re so good at this. I thought I’d be able to beat you on Night City, but no.’

‘We can do Night City again, if you’d like another try.’

Seulgi thinks about it. She looks at the pale pink neon lights across the ceiling and the Kavinsky poster on the back wall and then at the screen ahead of her and shakes her head. ‘No,’ she says. ‘Do the Dusty Canyon. I want to get used to it. What was it you said? How can I call myself a Formula 1 driver if I don’t adapt to all situations? And all tracks. Pick Dusty Canyon.’

‘Sure. Whatever you say. The outcome’s still going to be the same.’

‘God, you’re annoying sometimes.’

Irene giggles again. She selects the Dusty Canyon and chooses the lime green Nissan 180SX and Seulgi picks her own car and adjusts the pedals and shifts awkwardly in her seat to get more comfortable. For some reason she’s more nervous than she was lining up for the start grid in Korea a week ago. ‘Okay,’ she says. ‘I’m ready this time. I’m really ready.’

‘Wait.’

‘Why did you pause it?’

‘Are we going to put something on the line?’ Irene asks.

‘What?’

‘A wager. A bet. Like the bear last time.’

‘Who says this is our last game?’

Irene shrugs. ‘Only got two tokens left after this,’ she says. ‘And I want some candyfloss.’

‘Fine. Whatever. How about…if I win, you have to treat me to a holiday. And if you win, I’ll pay for your meal next Friday.’

‘We’re going to go on holiday anyway, so that’s not really much of a wager.’

‘Are we?’ Seulgi asks in surprise.

Irene turns to her again with a smile and a glimmer in her beautiful eyes and says softly, ‘Sure. We’ve got three and a half months before the season starts again. And eleven weeks before testing, even. I’m pretty sure we can manage to fit something in before then.’

‘But what about your shoe deal thing? Or your modelling?’

‘I can still work around them.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah,’ Irene says confidently. ‘I was thinking maybe Jeju? We didn’t get chance to go before.’

‘Sounds good to me. I don’t mind anywhere.’

‘Jeju it is, then.’

‘Alright,’ Seulgi says. ‘When?’

‘The week after next, maybe? We could go just before Christmas for a while. Or spend New Year there. Or both.’

‘Sure.’ Seulgi’s quiet for a moment. Then she says, almost a hesitant whisper, ‘Why don’t we go tomorrow?’

‘What?’

‘Just, you know…on a whim. Why don’t we just go tomorrow instead?’

‘What about the meal next week?’

‘We can still be back in time. It’s not like it’s a sixteen-hour flight or anything. We could go tomorrow and spend, like, four days there. And then just come back next Thursday or something, in time for the meal.’

Irene looks at her. The silence is only neutered by the sound of the eighties music playing in the speakers. ‘Alright,’ she says. ‘Sure. And then we can go again in January if we like it. For longer.’

‘Cool,’ Seulgi says, trying not to show how happy she is. She spends a moment pondering the intricacies of their proposed gamble. Then she adds, ‘How’s this – if I win, you have to pay for my flight to Jeju. And you have to treat me to a romantic night in. I’m talking you cook the food, you set the table, you wine and dine me, you run me a bath, you give me a massage, you make a big love heart on the floor out of fake roses and light a bunch of scented candles. And if you win, I’ll pay for your meal, like I said.’

‘Seems a bit lopsided, honestly. How about you pay for all our meals?’

‘Sure. If you like.’

‘You’re very confident.’

‘I know,’ says Seulgi. She breaks into a genuine smile, proud at herself. ‘I told you I’ve changed.’

‘I love it.’

‘I love you.’

‘Come on,’ Irene says. ‘Are you ready?’

‘As I’ll ever be.’

Irene pivots back to the screen with a mischievous grin and unpauses the game. The countdown reads five seconds in big white font, GRAN TURISMO ARCADE above it. Seulgi tests the pedals and grips the wheel and takes a deep breath. The image of Dusty Canyon pops up on screen.

‘Don’t sulk too hard when you lose,’ Irene says. ‘Although maybe a little sulk is okay. You’re cute when you’re pouty.’

‘Bold words.’

The screen ahead of them flashes READY TO RACE. It’s three seconds, then two, one, and Seulgi in the most competitive race of her life.

It’s almost ten PM when Seulgi checks her phone for the third time. It’s a cold and miserable day. Even waiting in the airport for their delayed flight they feel the dreariness of it. Long skeins of rain sliding down the dusty windowglass. Out there on the runway the planes look like plastic models in the downpour, barely any light to them at all. Irene sits leaning back against the chair and trying to get a modicum of rest and failing at it. ‘What time is it?’ she asks, eyes still closed.

‘About ten.’

‘I’ll be honest, when we showed up this afternoon, this was the last thing I was expecting.’

Seulgi glances up at the digital display ahead of them. As if it might have changed. Only three flights out to Jeju today and two of them have been cancelled already and the third was supposed to arrive at five in the evening and now it’s ten PM and still the board says DELAYED INDEFINITELY. PLEASE SPEAK TO A MEMBER OF STAFF FOR FURTHER DETAILS. But discussion with the staff has already come and gone. Seulgi checks her watch absently. The time, unsurprisingly, has not changed much.

‘Should we call it a day?’ she says. ‘We could always just wait until January. It looks like it’s going to rain all week anyway.’

Irene opens her eyes and uncrosses her arms and sits upright. She looks at Seulgi and smiles gently. ‘You look tired,’ she says. ‘You should get some sleep.’

‘What if it shows up in half an hour?’

‘They’d probably be telling us by now. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it say Delayed Indefinitely. It might not even show up at all.’

‘And then what do we do?’

‘Wait for the next one in the morning and get on that. And get a refund.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘You wanted to go, so we’ll go. I mean it.’

Seulgi smiles. ‘Thank you,’ she says. She takes a moment to look about. There are only half a dozen others scattered around the waitingroom, two old men asleep by the glass doors and a woman and her two children playing on their phones and another woman reading a cheap paperback thriller with the utmost of interest. Everyone else has dispersed. ‘Five hours,’ Seulgi murmurs.

‘We should go and do something.’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know. Wander. I mean, there’s nothing else to be doing. Except sleeping, I suppose.’

Seulgi glances out of the window again. Predictably there is no plane there in front of their terminal and the rain has made whorled shapes on the mottled glass and she can hear it faintly, the distant rainbeat metronome of late autumn. ‘Okay,’ she says at last.

The airport is strangely quiet. Perhaps some of the other flights have been delayed as well. In the gift shop Irene inspects the bottles of duty-free bourbon whiskey and Seulgi appreciates the overpriced perfumes and they dawdle about in the dim light and mostly in silence. Neither thinking much at all. ‘Are you buying anything?’ Irene says.

‘Don’t think so. Maybe I should grab a sandwich for the flight.’

‘Sure.’

In the little shop Irene pauses near the magazine rack for just long enough that Seulgi realises something is amiss. She’s just stood there, face contorted in some sort of mild surprise, studying the magazine cover.

‘What?’ Seulgi asks. ‘What is it?’

She holds it up so Seulgi can see it – a full-body photoshoot of Yeri in a red Scuderia Ferrari jacket, the gold-and-black prancing horse logo printed front and centre, the MISSION WINNOW text threaded in white font across the chest, crossing her arms and staring right out of the front cover. She’s smiling, and so is Irene. ‘Well I’ll be,’ she mutters.

‘She really did it.’

Irene turns it around and looks at it again. ‘Can’t lie, red does look pretty good on her.’

It isn’t until they’re both sat side by side again in the waitingroom that Seulgi asks, ‘When do you find out who’s replacing her at Samsung?’

‘On Wednesday. That’s when the team finds out. The public won’t find out until next Monday.’

‘Who do you think it’s going to be?’

‘I don’t know,’ Irene says. ‘I’ve got a couple ideas, but I don’t know who’s still not got a contract for next year. It could be a bunch of people. But we’ll see. I don’t mind, honestly. I don’t think anyone’s going to beat me. Anyone that isn’t you, I mean.’

‘Confident. I like it.’

‘Look how the tables have turned.’

At that Seulgi only laughs. The next half an hour passes in silence. Just the two of them sat quiet and comfortable and enjoying one another’s company, watching the digital board tick away the minutes, people coming and going. The ghost airport marches on. Occasionally a caretaker sidles by with a mop and bucket or with a swollen trashbag like some janitorial Santa Claus and disappears again. The old men are still asleep across the room. Everybody else has left, presumably to either sleep at home or amuse themselves. Even the kids have gone. The first time anyone makes a sound is when Irene catches Seulgi stifling a yawn and rubbing her eyes and says, ‘You should sleep.’

‘I’ll be fine. I’ll sleep on the plane.’

‘It might not get here until morning.’

‘Well then you should sleep as well.’

‘I’m good at staying up,’ Irene says. ‘Too many late nights going over data and stuff. And all the meetings at five AM. Takes a toll, honestly.’

‘Is that why you’re always out of bed by, like, six?’

‘Kind of, yeah.’

Seulgi pouts, fighting back another yawn. ‘I wish you’d sleep in sometimes,’ she says. ‘I miss you. Just feels wrong when you’re not there.’

‘Even when I make you breakfast?’

‘Depends what it is. When you bring me coffee, yeah. Not worth leaving me alone for some coffee. But if it’s bacon and eggs? And done just the way I like it as well?’

‘Pan-seared on the outside.’

‘Yeah,’ Seulgi says with a smile. ‘And then some coffee on top of that. And a stack of pancakes. With syrup.’

‘I do make some pretty sweet pancakes.’

‘In that case, I can maybe excuse it. But still. Better with you there. Warmer, too. Good for keeping the heating bill down. You got anything to read?’

‘What?’

‘Did you bring any books with you?’

‘Only a couple. But they’re in my luggage.’ She holds up the magazine and says, ‘I’ve got this, though.’

‘Anything good in it?’

‘It’s pretty light on material, honestly.’ Irene flicks through a handful of pages idly. ‘But it does talk about Yeri and Ferrari, though, which is cool. Says they’re optimistic for next year, just like she said.’

‘Pretty cool. Never thought I’d see the day Yeri was wearing red. Have they announced her teammate yet?’

‘No.’

‘So we’re just waiting on your teammate and hers?’

‘I don’t know,’ Irene says. ‘Haven’t been paying much attention to the racing scene since Sunday, honestly.’ She turns to Seulgi with a proud smile and equally tired eyes and says, ‘You still need to drink out of your trophy, by the way.’

‘Well, I’ve got it forever, so…. we’ll get there.’

To this Irene only hums in content. It’s the silence following – the delicate and oft-forgotten space within such a frantic pair of lives – that they both treasure the most. Just sitting and watching and listening. A handful of small and pale lights from the gift shop beyond the glass. The muted warmth of the wall heaters. Rain beating down on the darker world beyond the confines of their shared tranquility. Irene leans back in her chair and feels Seulgi’s head slump against her shoulder. She nudges her a slight and nudges her a second time and realises with an amused sigh that Seulgi is asleep, snoring quietly, hands limp in her lap.

‘What am I going to do with you?’ Irene says to herself. She takes a moment to look around. They’re not entirely alone – the two old men still asleep across the way and the janitors passing by and a handful of others busying themselves on the way to their flights. The terminals aren’t quite deserted. Perhaps they’re visible to a much wider audience than she can see from her seat, confined as she is by Seulgi resting on her shoulder. Maybe the man in charge of the security cameras is watching. Does it matter? Irene threads her fingers through Seulgi’s tenderly and thinks that perhaps right now it does not. It’s times like this she would warn Seulgi to be extra careful, but what is life without risks? What is joy without first the adrenaline of the pursuit of it? Sometimes these things are deserved. Irene glancing at her quietly sleeping form with a smile of adoration and thinking: We all deserve a little bit of happiness.

And so with all the love in the world she leans over and kisses Seulgi softly on the top of her head and says, loud enough to be heard, proud enough to be understood, ‘I love you, Kang Seulgi.’

She swirls it around in with a grimace and drinks it down and takes another mouthful. Irene and Seulgi and Wendy just watch her across the table. The coffeecup steams in her hands. They’re not alone and other people have noticed and are watching them and talking among themselves and looking over at Joy sipping the coffee like some sort of wine enthusiast and maybe even laughing at how absurd it looks.

‘Enjoying yourself?’ Seulgi says.

Joy drinks again and nods. ‘I think I’m becoming a bit of a coffee connoisseur,’ she says. ‘Like, it’s gotten to the point where I can tell them all apart just by texture, you know? Not even taste.’

‘Is that even possible?’ Wendy asks.

‘Guess so. Maybe it’s the perks of caffeine addiction. Who knows? How’ve you been?’

‘Good,’ Seulgi says. ‘Jeju was nice.’

‘What? You went to Jeju?’

‘Yeah.’

‘The two of you? Together?’

‘Uh, yeah.’

‘When?’

‘Few days ago. We got back last night.’

‘Damn. Alright for some, I suppose. Are we ordering, by the way?’

‘We’re missing someone. Did you forget?’

‘No we’re not,’ Joy says, nodding toward the front windows. They turn just in time to catch Yeri coming through the door and ping her jacket and waving at them. She scoots up beside Wendy and sets her jacket on the chair behind her and begins thumbing through the menu already.

‘Well well well,’ Joy says. ‘If it isn’t our resident Italian superstar. Thank you for spending your precious time with us mere mortals.’

‘Are we starting this already?’ Yeri asks.

‘I’m just kidding. Congrats, by the way. Good .’

‘Thanks.’

‘Congrats,’ says Wendy.

‘Thanks as well. Are you two gonna congratulate me?’

‘You already told us,’ Irene says flatly. ‘Although I’m not surprised you don’t remember it, with the condition you were in.’

‘I’ve seen you in just as bad a condition.’

‘No you haven’t. If I’m remembering rightly, you said you had – and I quote – the worst headache in the history of the world.’

‘The history of humankind, actually. If you’re gonna quote me, get it right.’

‘Still. A bit worse than me then, weren’t you?’

‘Spoilsport. What are we ordering?’

‘You in a rush or something?’

‘Just very hungry, is all. Haven’t eaten all day.’

‘Hey,’ Joy says, ‘how do you ask for kimchi in Italian?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know much Italian. In fact, I don’t know any Italian. Suppose I better get learning fast, for when I win at Monza next year.’

Joy nods absently and sips her coffee, as if she has not mentioned Monza or racing at all. ‘So,’ she says, ‘what’s happening at Samsung, then? With Yeri out, I mean. Have you got your teammate for next year yet?’

Irene nods with a little more hesitance than expected.

‘So? Who is it?’

‘Will you promise not to tell anyone until it goes public next Monday?’

‘Sure. Whatever. You have my word.’

Irene is quiet a moment. The three of them are all sat forward on their chairs as if to listen better and both she and Seulgi have to stifle a laugh at the sight of them. Then she says, ‘It’s Jennie.’

‘What? As in—’

‘Yeah.’

‘As in, our Jennie? Jennie Kim? Renault Jennie Kim?’

‘Yeah.’

‘She’s moving to Samsung with you?’

Irene nods. Wendy and Joy look at each other and then Wendy turns to Seulgi as if to say: Why didn’t you tell me this?

‘I only found out yesterday,’ Seulgi says, answering the question that was never asked. ‘We both did.’

‘Damn.’

‘Yeah,’ Joy says, ‘damn. How are you feeling about that?’

Irene shrugs nonchalantly, hand on the dinner menu in front of her. ‘Should be fun,’ she says. ‘She’s a good driver. Very good. She outdrove that Renault this year.’

‘Are you worried at all?’

‘No. I think I’m a better driver. But we’ll see.’

‘That’s crazy.’

‘Are we ordering?’ Yeri says.

‘Oh, by the way,’ says Irene, ‘Seulgi’s paying, so order whatever you like. Food, wine, whatever. Order a whole buffet if you want.’

‘What?’

‘She lost a bet.’

‘What bet?’

‘Bet she would beat me at Gran Turismo Arcade.’

‘Oh . Which track?’

‘Dusty Canyon.’

‘I hate that one,’ Joy says, studying her coffee like an archeologist would study a fossil.

‘Same,’ says Yeri. ‘Whenever I played it, I’d always just pick the Beach circuit. Or Night City.’

‘Yes!’ Seulgi says a little too enthusiastically. ‘Night City’s definitely the best.’

‘And you still lost,’ Irene says. ‘Like, twelve times in a row. I remain undefeated.’

Joy drinks off the last of her coffee and pushes the empty cup halfway across the table. ‘Maybe talent doesn’t translate into games,’ she says, as if this is some sort of sagely revelation.

‘I used to be amazing at it,’ says Seulgi. ‘I don’t know what happened. But you’ve got good taste, Yeri.’

‘Thanks,’ says Yeri. ‘Now can we please order?’

It isn’t until they’re already tucking into their food that Wendy finishes a mouthful and washes it down with her banana milkshake and says, ‘What about you, Yeri?’

‘What about me?’

‘Saw it in the news that both guys have left Ferrari. You heard anything about your teammate for next year?’

Yeri shrugs, focus entirely on her food. ‘They’re bringing up the kid that won Formula 2 this year. Guess they figured he’s better than any of the alternatives. Or maybe Alonso just wanted too much money.’

‘F2?’ Joy asks. ‘The guy from Monaco?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Something Leclerc,’ Yeri mumbles through a mouthful of pork. ‘Wasn’t really paying much attention to F2 this year, honestly.’

‘Leclerc? You mean Charles Leclerc?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Kid,’ Irene laughs. ‘Isn’t he older than you?’

‘By, like, a year.’

‘Still, though.’

‘But he’s a kid in F1 terms. I’m more experienced.’

‘Have you ever seen him race?’

‘A couple of times. He’s fast. But I think I can beat him. Should be fun either way. We’ll see how it goes. I just can’t believe I’m racing for Ferrari. This is really good, by the way. Tastes expensive. How much does this cost?’

‘Who cares? Seulgi’s paying.’

‘You make a fantastic point.’ She finishes another mouthful and looks at the others and smiles. ‘Man,’ she says, ‘I’m gonna miss this next year.’

‘You’re not going anywhere.’

‘Yeah, but like, it’s different, you know? Different teams. New starts. For all of us.’

‘Not for me,’ Joy says.

‘Nor me,’ says Seulgi.

‘Me neither,’ Irene says.

‘Yeah,’ says Wendy, ‘I’m not going anywhere either. I think you’re the only one with a new start, really. And Jennie, I suppose. And the Monaco kid.’

‘Charles Leclerc.’

‘Sure. Maybe we should've invited him instead.’

Yeri just looks at them again, gravy dribbling off the end of her fork. ‘God,’ she mutters, ‘you guys are no fun at all.’

It’s an oddly warm day in January, and oddly bright.

Low to the east the pinchbeck sun sits in a warm disc and it smells of seasalt and Irene’s perfume. They sit in her white Nissan with the roof down in the parkinglot just watching the coastal waters rock up against the beachhead and recede and the sound dissipate with it. Small smiles and tender happiness. Knowing in their heart of hearts that memories such as this one endure long after everything else has been eroded by time or distance or despair. That this will stay with them forever and a day.

Seulgi runs a hand idly along her left arm and down to the pearl bracelet on her wrist and smiles at the feeling of it. She taps her heels together gently in the footwell, the little brown bear logos nuzzling one another as she does so. Watching Irene as Irene watches the world. Her hair flutters a slight in the cool wind and the light catches her in just such a way that for a moment however fleeting she looks like something from a dream, a lingering vision of some more perfect time and place. But she is very much real and very much there and Seulgi has to bite her lip to stop from grinning and Irene notices her and turns in the driver’s seat and says, ‘What?’

‘Nothing. Just nothing. I just like sitting like this.’

‘Me too. It’s peaceful. It’s good to just think about nothing sometimes.’

‘Are you thinking about nothing?’

‘Kind of. Nothing meaningful.’

Seulgi’s quiet for a long time. Fiddling with her fingers, with her bracelet. She says softly, ‘I’ve been thinking a lot. About us. About what we are.’

Irene says nothing, only looks at her. The silence is itself an encouragement to proceed and she does.

‘I was thinking about how wound up I was getting that we couldn’t just be normal,’ she says. ‘I think in a way that was having a bit of a knock on my confidence in racing as well. Just that we couldn’t be, you know…a proper couple. Not like normal people. And we still can’t. I have to look around every time I want to even hold your hand or kiss you and I can’t just come out and tell people I love you and even when we went for that meal the other month I had to pretend like we were just acquaintances.’

‘Yeah.’

‘And before, I hated it. I really did. I’d spend so much time wishing it were different. But I’ve changed. I think last year was the best year of my life and not just because I was with you for all of it. Well, most of it, before and after Brazil. I think it was because I’ve learnt so much from it, inside and outside of racing. I’ve grown as a person in ways I never thought I could. And the more I think about it, the more I’m okay with it.’

Irene smiles.

‘You’ve got to learn to take the good with the not so good,’ Seulgi says. ‘And when I think about it, I’m privileged enough to be in this situation in the first place, not just with you, but with everything. And I’m not going to take that for granted. I’m not going to let it go to my head. Sometimes in life you have to make compromises to get what you want. You can’t always get everything the way you want it. What matters is that you get it at all. And I want you. And if I have to make a couple compromises along the way – if I have to wear a facemask whenever I want to come to your apartment, or if I have to pretend we’re just good friends from rival teams, or if I can only kiss you behind closed doors with the curtains closed – then so be it. I’m prepared to do that. And I just wanted to ask, are you?’

‘I’ve been willing from the start,’ Irene says. ‘I wouldn’t have ever made a move or told you I had feelings for you if I didn’t think I understood the consequences should it go wrong. Or should someone find out. So, yeah. I’ve always been willing. And nothing’s going to change that. Nothing’s going to pass us by.’

‘Good,’ Seulgi says, and suddenly she’s smiling again.

‘That’s one of the reasons I drove out here. Easier to kiss you without being seen. We can kind of do whatever we want. Nobody’s around.’

Seulgi takes one long look at the beach and at the sidewalks behind them and the rest of the parkinglot and realises that she’s right. They are alone. ‘I love you,’ she says. And before Irene can say it back she stands up in the passenger’s seat and cups her hands to and shouts at the world, ‘I love Bae Irene! I love her!’

‘Stop it.’

‘Why? You said no one’s around.’

‘It’s cheesy.’

‘So? What’s wrong with being cheesy?’

‘It’s just not me.’

‘C’mon.’

‘No.’

‘C’mon. Please?’

Irene sighs. It’s a sigh of indignation but it can’t hide the amusement nor the adoration. She stands in the driver’s seat, careful to balance herself in the narrow space, leaning against the steeringwheel for support, and says to the sea, ‘I love Kang Seulgi!’

‘See? Cathartic, right?’

Irene is quiet for a long time, but her smile talks for her. Then she says, in a soft voice, ‘Yeah. It kind of is.’

When they’re sat back down and savouring the silence Seulgi shifts in her seat and says, ‘Have you got a name for this yet?’

‘No. I don’t tend to name my road cars.’

‘Why not?’

‘Don’t know. I just don’t. But I’ve been thinking of a few.’

‘Like?’

‘How about Reve?’

‘Can’t. It’s taken.’ Irene’s pout has her laughing. ‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘Them’s the rules. I don’t make them.’

‘Damn. I’m sure I’ll think of something. Or one of us will.’

She expects Seulgi to nod or agree but instead she just leans over the centre console and cups her face and kisses her, the sweetest and warmest kiss she’s ever had. It’s a kiss free of the constraints of a heavily curated life, away from the racing and the press attention and the magazine covers and the endless media scrutiny, away from the fans in the grandstands and the engineers and mechanics and away from Reve and Starburst and Cobalt. It’s a kiss that forms within it one of those lasting memories the moment their lips meet. A kiss two years in the making. The world is waiting for them and the world can wait a little longer. She runs a hand over Seulgi’s cold cheek and smiles and kisses her back and a stray hair from her face and all she can think is: Love love I love.

‘Maybe we should stay out here for longer,’ Irene says. ‘Or, like, forever.’

‘Maybe we should. But then I’d win no more championships.’

‘You mean I wouldn’t.’

‘Well, technically speaking, neither of us would. So I’m not wrong.’

‘Suppose not.’

Seulgi’s eyes go to the sky. A distant and perfect red, the clouds like velvet. Out there where the sun touches the sea and it does just burn and always will. ‘I love you,’ she says. ‘But we should probably get back to Seoul.’

‘Already? It’s only six.’

‘It’ll take us, what? Two hours in traffic? And I’ve got a meeting tomorrow with Wendy.’

‘Already? Ours don’t start until next week. But sure. Whatever.’ She looks at Seulgi and squints and says, ‘Wait. Hang on. Is this just an excuse again?’

‘No.’

‘Yes it is.’

‘No it isn’t.’

‘Seulgi.’

For a moment Seulgi is silent, a childlike innocence on her face, knowing she has been caught in the act of deceit. ‘Okay,’ she mutters, ‘but I’m getting really good at it now! Really good.’

‘Is that where you were on Monday when you told me you were busy?’

‘Maybe.’

‘How many tokens did you spend?’

‘Like…a hundred. But I mean it! Even on Dusty Canyon! I could totally beat you now. I could beat you with my eyes closed, I bet.’

‘Don’t start this again.’

‘If we wait any longer it’ll be closed for the night by the time we get back.’

‘Alright,’ Irene says. ‘But if I beat you again, you’ve got to pay for my holiday this time, okay?’

‘Deal. Where do you want to go?’

She looks at Seulgi, delicate and beautiful and so very right for her. ‘I don’t know,’ she says with a smile. ‘I hear Monaco’s nice this time of year.’

‘Good idea. I could book us a room at the Hermitage.’

‘Sure. And grab us a bottle of wine, too.’

‘The Chateau?’

‘You know me too well.’

Seulgi hums with happiness. The glint in her pretty eyes is pure peace. ‘Well then,’ she says. ‘Off we go. Big world out there. Lots to explore. But first, Gran Turismo. And my day of redemption.’

‘Sure,’ Irene giggles.

And four days later and four thousand miles away, when they’re sat on a whim in a candlelit booth three doors down from the Beau Rivage hotel in Monte Carlo, it’s Seulgi that takes out her credit card to pay the bill.

‘So,’ Irene says, sipping the Chateau with a smirk. ‘Are you ready to admit defeat yet?’

‘No. I can still win. I know I can. Just you wait until we get back. Then you’ll see. You’ve just got to give it some time.’

Irene smiles again. It’s a smile to hold all the love in the world. ‘Sure,’ she says. ‘We’ve got a lot of time.’

‘How much time, exactly?’

‘Well, eight weeks until the season starts, I think. Unless my maths is off.’

‘Great,’ Seulgi says with a beaming smile. ‘I’ve got a feeling this is going to cost a lot of tokens.’