Breathe.
By turn one, I’m already down two positions.
I’m tense, my body tight, and I know Tessa is holding her tongue on my shit take-off, but I would almost rather her say something instead of the deafening silence.
“Car to the left and right. Hold your line.”
“Which cars?” I ask.
“Doesn’t matter. Focus.”
My jaw locks.
Two cars touch, and carbon fiber scatters in the front line.
“Fuck,” I curse.
Someone locks up, and I’m forced off the racing line. I avoid the spin and cut a curb, still managing to get back on track despite the minimal space.
I lose a spot, which pisses me off.
“Whoever the fuck that was just pushed me off. There was no space.”
Tessa’s voice, calm and steady fills my helmet. “Stay focused.”
“It’s a little hard when some drivers are purposefully pissing me off.” I laser my vision in front.
I’m able to maintain my spot, but I'm on edge, especially when I see a blur of green from Vinny’s car.
“Who was it?” I know she’ll catch my drift.
Tessa’s voice is the only one I hear. “Focus, Rome.”
“Was it him?”
There’s a pause, and then sure enough, I hear Tessa’s sigh. “Copy.”
Fucking asshole.
Of course Tessa would understand who I’m asking about.
“Your little boyfriend is about to lose his position.”
“Call him my boyfriend again and you’ll regret it,” she stresses. “And pay attention! He’s driving aggressively in the gray.”
The corner is up next, and those are second nature to me. I do what I need to do, and yet, someone runs me wide, squeezing me toward the grass.
Vinny swerves late, and I’m hopeful a penalty appears.
“I swear to God,” I grit.
“I see it, Rome.”
Why does it calm me when she says my name like that? Like a breath floating effortlessly from her mouth, almost as if she’s giving in to me.
Vinny does it again, and I curse for the third time since the race started.
“Dangerous,” I mutter to myself.
