“I needed to change!” This is so fucking stupid. Everything is always Julien’s fault. “You can’t seriously think I’d fuck someone in mydriver’s room.There’s no ceiling—everyone would hear it! Close the door, I’m in my underwear.”
He meant for Thomas to stay on the outside, but the older Dubois lets himself in and shuts the door behind him.
Julien finally rolls the long johns off and drops them with the rest of his racing gear. “Congrats on the win, by the way.”
“Merci.”Thomas plants himself on the vacated massage table. He’s still in his full race suit, the podium cap snug around his head. He smells sweet, like old champagne. “How was your race? Watched Santiago’s overtake during the cool down room.”
“Brutal, right?” Once his trousers are up, Julien looks for where he flung the team shirt this morning. “Can’t be mad about it when he pulled such a cool move.”
“I thought I would see you after the race.”
“Yeah.” Julien was going to wander over to the winner’s circle to congratulate him, but the lingering emotions from their fight probably would’ve brought down the mood. Thomas deserved to celebrate his win. “Oh, I talked to Hugo. Owain tried to introduce us.”
“Was that—?” Thomas hesitates. “How was that?”
“Fine. Good.” Julien finally snags the sleeve of his shirt out from under a pile of hats he signed earlier. “I mean, it’s not his fault McLean chose him, right? He still follows my stream, so that was a surprise.”
Thomas hums, obviously holding himself back from saying something about the stream. With how exhausted Julien is from limb to limb, he might’ve had a point this morning.
He didn’t have to be such a demanding asshole about it, though.
“I’m gonna cut back on streaming during race weekends.”
Thomas’s eyes light up. “Yes?”
“But you can’t treat me like a child anymore. You aren’t Maman or Papa—you need to stop trying to control me. I have feelings and I’m allowed to make mistakes and grow from them.”
“I also have feelings,” Thomas says, quietly. “I also make mistakes.”
“I know.” If anyone knows, it’s Julien.
“But I have been doing this for years and I want to help you. You say you need to figure it out on your own, but then you are with Rafael and asking for his help. I am leading the championship now. Why is my help worth less than his?”
Because accepting help from Thomas is the same as admitting Julien is just a worse version of him—a byproduct. If Julien learns from Thomas, how will he ever prove he’s better than him?
“I can’t ask you for help,” Julien replies. “Everybody already compares me to you. I can’t drive like you too.”
“Driving like me wins races.”
“Driving likemewill too.”
Thomas is good at silently staring, but so is Julien. They glare at each other, neither of them willing to back down.
Finally, Thomas exhales. “Fine. I understand.”
“Really?”
“Ouais.I still want to help, so tell me if you change your mind.”
“Yeah, definitely.” Absolutely not. “I didn’t get to watch the podium. Was Sam pissed?”
Thomas’s mouth ticks up into an evil smile. “It is what he deserves after winning France last year. I even sat in the middle seat.”
Well, yeah. “That’s where the winner sits.”
“Correct.”
After a quick knock, a voice on the other side of the door calls out, “We’re ready for the picture.”
