Robert leans in, a disarming smile plastered on his modelesque face. “Maybe then you could convince your streaming friends to stop shitting on his driving, huh?”
Oh no.
“Shut up, Bobby!”Matt hisses. He laughs awkwardly when he turns back. “I get it—I’m an easy target.”
“I am so sorry.” Julien remembers the comments about his own racing he had to endure. It was only for a few races, but it was brutal—even in the Ferraro. “Seriously, I am.”
Julien has never been a fan of either American driver. He might’ve made a couple of comments here or there at their expense. Several. A handful. Most race weekends.
He never expected to be confronted about it, though.
Fuck.
Matt waves him off as the truck finally parks. “If I avoided every outlet that talked shit about me, I wouldn’t have anything left to watch. It’s seriously fine.”
No, it’s not, but hopefully Julien can fix it with some groveling. “I’ll text you? Your number’s in the group chat, right?”
“Yeah, sure thing.” The crowd swallows both Kaas drivers as everyone exits the truck at once.
Julien gives one final wave to the bleachers before he disembarks.
Twelve and fourteen. Julien hasn’t driven the normal race line since Formation 2. It’s in him somewhere—he just has to find it again.
Improving from third to first at Circuit Paul Richard isn’t impossible. If Julien plays his cards right, he could have a legitimate shot at?—
“I did not know you are friendly with the Americans.” Thomas’s voice is like a bucket of ice water to the face.
Is he spying on him now? What does it matter who Julien talks to? “Don’t you and your boyfriend have racing incidents to plot?”
“You should be careful who you associate with.” That’s rich, coming from a guy who fucks Sam Campbell. “They are not strong drivers. They will not help you succeed.”
“And you will?” Julien can see it now. Every word out of Thomas’s mouth is perfectly chosen to keep him isolated and dependent on his brother. “Have you noticed anything weird about my racing line?”
“Your racing line?” Thomas scoffs. “I do not have time to watch your runs. I have my own race to worry about.”
“Right.”
It’d be less obvious if Thomas admitted he noticed. If he played the Perfect Older Brother role and tried to convince Julien to keep his shorter racing line for the faster lap times.
And if he didn’t know? Thomas is far too nosey to let something like that slide. To not ask any follow-up questions when Julien admitted a potential weakness. To not exploit him.
So, Thomas knows about twelve and fourteen. Great.
“I would not trust the advice of bad drivers, but that is just how I race.” Who said anything about advice? “It would be nice to see you on the podium again.”
Just not on the top step. “I’m starting third. You don’t think I can keep it?”
“I think you should be more worried about Friedrich starting behind you than the cars at the back. Once they are shown theblue flag, they have to let you through, whether you are friends or not.”
“Of course.”
It’s a low blow to exaggerate the performance of the Kaas, but Julien can’t even feign surprise.
If Thomas wants to invalidate Matt’s advice, then it must be worth taking.
Julien takes a sip from his branded water bottle and tries to run through the track in his head. He has two hours to change the racing line he has used for years on the off chance that he can get ahead of his brother.
It’s a lot to process, but if Julien wants to win, that’s what it’ll take.
