Page 56 of Devil May Lie
And yet, here he was, breaking his carefully constructed routine to watch a hoverbike race he didn’t give two shits about, all so he could catch a glimpse of the man he was meant to have nothing to do with.
Was this a cosmic punishment, perhaps? Karma’s way of getting back at him for that stunt he’d pulled in the boathouse? The last time he’d made a mistake with someone he shouldn’t, he’d paid the ultimate price…
There was a flash of pink to his right, but when Berga’s head shot in that direction, it was to find a man around his age wearing a t-shirt in that color, screaming Madden’s name at the top of his lungs.
Not her.
Not the girl in tulle.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced his eyes back to the racers. It was about to start, and if he focused, he could block out the scratching sensation at the back of his mind. Sometimes he got it before an episode, a warning sign he was able to use to his advantage. If he could distract himself with something else, he could avoid slipping into the delusion.
A large electrical sign hovered in the air off to the side of where Madden and his opponent were, the green numbers starting to countdown from ten with the crowd chiming in.
“Sunday is really good,” Nate leaned in and told Berga, even though he hadn’t asked anything about the man in yellow and white. “He’s not from around here, and people are saying there’s a chance he’ll beat Madden tonight and ruin his winning streak.”
Berga grunted.
“The bets are actually pretty torn,” Nate continued excitedly.
“I know,” Berga said. “I put coin on that one earlier.” He pointed to Sunday just as the timer reached zero.
Nate looked surprised, but anything he may have been about to say about Berga’s betting choice was cut off by the sound of the bikes taking off. They zipped past the crowd, fast enough to kick up a layer of dust in their wake that had Berga coughing and waving a hand in front of his face.
No one else seemed all that affected, everyone’s heads turning to keep the racers in sight as they sped down the straight road and veered to the left, where they momentarily disappeared from view behind a set of tall bushes. This track went over the bridge that crossed the inlet and then straight on the other side before circling back to the starting line in a rather boring loop.
“How many times do they have to do this?” Berga asked, eyes catching the glare from headlights as the racers crossed over the bridge. “Three?”
“Two,” Nate corrected. “Usually they go once and they take the course that leads through the forest, but Sunday only had enough time for a quick race before he’s set to leave the planet again, so they’ll just do a half course and race by us twice.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“I help organize the events, remember?”
Right. He’d actually forgotten for a second. Nate spent more time with Madden than Berga ever had. Yesterday, at the café, Berga hadn’t brought Madden up, not because he’d been embarrassed, but because there hadn’t been a logical reason to do so. He’d gone to Bay initially because he’d wanted help to explain the way he was feeling and why his latest delusion hadn’t lasted, but since the professor had suggested conducting a few more experiments…
“Do you have some time tomorrow?” Berga asked as the hoverbikes came around the corner and passed them for the second time. He was watching, but wasn’t all that invested. If Madden won, great, if he lost, then Berga would leave with more coin in his pocket. “There’s something I’d like to discuss with you in a more private setting.”
“Sure, sure,” Nate bobbed his head, eyes locked onto the back of the bikes. Unlike Berga, the race had all of his attention. “Want to meet on campus around noon? I was going to swing by and return a book to Bay then anyway.”
“Perfect.” He’d skip lunch and still be able to make it to class after.
Nate slapped him in the arm excitedly all of a sudden, jostling him from his thoughts. “They’re coming to the finish line!”
Berga did what was expected of him and turned to watch with all the others, only mildly curious about who would win. Both bikes seemed to appear at the same time, fighting neck and neck as they approached the yellow line cast over the asphalt. Something weird in his chest tightened seeing how close they were, almost as if…he was nervous.
Why? He’d bet on Sunday. It’d be in his best interest if Madden lost. Two seconds ago, he hadn’t even cared, so what was this uncomfortable pressure he was feeling now?
And why did it loosen the second Madden took the lead and crossed the finish line? Everyone cheered, and he found the corner of his mouth tipping up of its own accord.
Everything else happened so quickly after that, though.
A group of fans instantly surrounded Madden, three women practically throwing themselves at him, while a male flung an arm around his neck and clung to him like—
“Berga?” Nate called after him but he hardly noticed, too busy internally fuming. “What are you doing?!”
Less than forty-eight hours ago, that asshole had him tied up, peppering his neck with kisses, whispering garbage about how “cute and good” Berga was, but he was just standing there laughing while all those people hung all over him like they had a right to it.
Like getting to touch Madden Odell was some sort of damn theme park ride.