Hotel guards at the front entrance keep the rabid fans back behind ropes, but heads still turn as the drivers stroll through the lobby together.
“I should thank you.”
Sam scoffs. “For dinner? It was nothing.” Well, notnothing, but ‘a pleasure’ sounds weird to say out loud.
“For racing so hard without your front wing. For trying to help me win.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Sam lies. He turns away to press the elevator button.
“Yes, well.” Lucas smiles and it’s sultry, despite his words. “It did not matter in the end, but I appreciate the thought.”
The elevator doors shut out the world and the clatter of the lobby abruptly stops. The instant silence is deafening.
Suddenly, they’re alone. In a small space. Together.
Should they start here? Necking in the lift, even if they couldbe stopped on any floor and get caught? Or should they wait until they can close the world out with a lock, when they can get straight to business?
Lucas presses the button for the sixteenth floor and turns to Sam, expectation in his eyes. Elevator it is. “What floor are you on?”
Sam deflates as the elevator rises. A beep at every floor mocks him as he realizes he was just projecting. Again.
He doesn’t remember his room number, but he doesn’t want to look complacent in front of Lucas. The beeps continue and Sam reaches forward to jam the next button in the sequence. Ten, apparently. Whatever, he just wants to get off as soon as possible.
“This is me!” Sam says as the doors open. He doesn’t even stop to look behind him, just waves over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow!”
He bolts before Lucas can reply. He speed-walks down the hallway, pretending like he’s on the way to his room, until the elevator finally closes again. Once it leaves, Sam stops dead in his tracks and takes a deep breath.
It’s fine. He’s fine.
It was a misunderstanding. He just got his hopes up.
Breathe.
He digs his room key out of his pocket and laughs. Apparently he’s also on the sixteenth floor. It makes sense to keep the drivers’ accommodations close to each other.
They were soclose.
Sam presses the up button on the elevator and pulls out his phone. Is midnight too late to get ready for a club night? He hates being the sober one when everyone else has been drinking—it makes him feel responsible for them.
Still, he could change and head back out. He’s already in the mood for sex—might as well quench that thirst now before he has to prep for another race week.
At the same time, leaving the hotel when there’s a nice, warm bed waiting for him sounds tiring. He could raid the mini fridge, jerk off, and fall asleep. That sounds like enough effort for the night.
Fuck, he almost had Lucas, though. He was soclose.
He quick-scrolls through a bunch of club addresses until he sees unread texts from Thomas.
Room 1936
Tell me if you are not interested
I understand
Or Sam could go with Plan C.
Why didn't he consider it before? It's perfect. Thomas is perfect—it's exactly what he needs.
The elevator pings open and Sam hits the button for the nineteenth floor repeatedly, hurrying the elevator along. When it opens again, he almost jogs down the hallway, his eyes scanning the door numbers.
