“I’m watching my boyfriend race. This is where the girlfriends stand, left of the van. Well, that’s what my man told me. Is your guy racing too?” Mari’s voice is soft and calming, a small sense of peace in this new, chaotic environment. “I’m Violet and no, I don’t have a boyfriend.” She looks confused and studies my face until her eyes land on my neck. Fuck. “Riiight,” she drawls, her glossed lips twitching. “How long have you been together?” “We’re not together,” I respond firmly. “Damn. This guy mauls your neck and trusts you to come to a race despite not being together? Strange
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