The notion hangs between us. That we are both learning things about the other, that now change the way we see each other. That I’m not a spoiled nepo-baby, and he’s more than his playboy persona.
“I’m sorry people treat you like that, myself included,” he says, staring out the window like the trees along the highway are really that interesting.
“Thanks, Dean. I appreciate it. I thought you didn’t like me because you hated having a girl beat you every week.”
He laughs. “Nah, I don’t like being beat by anyone.”
For the rest of the trip, we stick to light topics of conversation as we pull into the infield at Watkins Glen. I let him out at Chase’s RV—he texted him earlier to be sure he could crash there—and find my own RV that my dad drove in earlier this week.
EIGHTEEN
DEAN
After ridingwith Regan a couple of days ago, the guys have been giving me endless shit about it. It hasn’t stopped, especially since I’m crashing with Taylor. I’d originally asked Chase and he’d agreed, but once I got there, changed his tune. He was weird about it for some reason.
Inside Taylor’s place, we are hanging out and relaxing a bit before the start of today’s race. I’m starting to get into my fire suit when Taylor asks me a question.
“You heard about the gala in a few weeks, right?”
He’s scrolling through his phone, still in his street clothes. I don’t understand how he waits until the last minute to get ready.
“Yeah. sounds like a bore. Too bad it’s mandatory for all the drivers to be there.” I head into the small bathroom to change. Taylor raises his voice so that I can hear him through the door.
“Are you planning to bring anyone? Or any grid girls to share?” I hear a small chuckle from him through the thin walls of the bus.
I haven’t really thought about bringing anyone, I know we all get a plus one, but I just figured I’d go alone. Didn’t evenconsider my revolving door of grid girls to ask one of them. My DMs have been full, but I haven’t looked at a single one. My mind wanders back to my almost kiss with Regan…
Nope.No.I can’t be thinking about Brady right now. I’m supposed to be focusing like I promised Tom and the team. I owe it to them to do well today. I just spent too much time with her in the car to get here and it’s messing with my head. Yeah, that has to be it.
I can’t take her to the gala. Can I?
I zip up the fire suit and step back into the living room. Taylor is still scrolling on his phone.
“No. I’ll just go alone. Grid girls aren’t gala material.”
Taylor huffs a laugh. “Fair. I guess going alone is the only option.” Something in his tone is slightly sad. Wonder what that’s about. He’s seemed more glued to his phone as of late. Could he also not be able to bring the person he wants to? I think about asking, but decide not to. Saves from having any imposing questions coming my way.
Finally, he gets up to start getting ready in the back bedroom. I grab my gloves and walk out to the hauler for our team meeting before the race starts. I need to keep focused—road courses can be tricky. One missed turn or shift can mean an early end to your day.
Luckily, I’m starting on the pole today, so that eases some of my worries. Next to superspeedways, road courses are some of my favorite tracks to compete at.
I’m dominating this race. I’ve led most of the day except when I got shuffled back in a round of pit stops. I’ve been able to work my way back into the top five while Brad Hopkins, a known road racer who only races at these tracks, has control of the field.
With fifteen laps to go, another caution is waved. A car hasspun around and can’t get it refired. There haven’t been too many cautions in this race to begin with. A lot of times, drivers will spin out and end up far enough off the track where we can still run at full speed safely.
Everyone comes down pit road, and it’s busy. Cars move in and out of their pit stalls and do their best not to hit anyone. Steve calls for four tires and fuel, and I’m able to claim the third spot for the restart.
While I’ve been up front most of the day, I know Regan has been struggling. With her poor starting position, and the fact that she’s not good at these types of tracks, she’s losing a lot of points that I’m about to gain. Usually, I’d be ecstatic about that fact. But I feel sort of bad for her that she’s not having a good day.
The race starts again, and I get a good start going into the first few turns. Brad Hopkins easily retakes the lead over Greyson, and soon, I’m right at his bumper.
My radio buzzes with Steve’s voice. “You’re doing great, Dixon. Hold that position if you can. Brady is still in the back.”
“How far back is she?”
“Far enough. If by some miracle she gets close, I’ll tell you.”
I’m relieved for once that I don’t have to worry about where Regan is. I can just focus on the race in front of me. Something else pangs in my stomach…concern. Concern for what? That she’s having a bad race? What the fuck is wrong with me?
