I turn and see a man hugging Gio, and then he turns to me. "Hey man! I’m Paulo," he grins and gives me a handshake.
Ok. Wow. This is going way better than I thought.
I’m not a ghost here after all.
"Rava, nice to meet you." We weave carefully through the hot cars. Paulo throws his arms over Gio and Lorenzo.
"Alright, listen up," he says. "I’ve got some wild opponents for you tonight." He looks at Lorenzo first. "You, Lorenzo, you take Teo Garcia. Spanish. New-ish. INSANE. You’re gonna shit yourself."
Lorenzo scoffs.
"Eh, I don’t want fresh meat. You underestimate me, cookie." Paulo raises a brow. "I’m telling you, he’s tough." Then Paulo turns to Gio with dramatic flair. "And you…" He stretches a hand out toward the chaos. "Miro fucking Escobar."
My stomach drops and I don’t even know who that guy is. Paulo keeps going. "Bro. Only YOU could take him. See that Ferrari SF90 Stradale?"
He points at that red monster that looks like it kills people for fun. Like Gio’s car.
"That’s his. He’s wanted to race you for YEARS." He drops his voice. "But uh… he’s a little crazy. So, like… you CAN say no. Totally fine. You could pick that other guy instead." He gestures to another rider, this one on a bike. "Whatever you want. Tell me in ten." And then Paulo just spins and disappears into the crowd.
I look at Gio. This can’t be good. I came here thinking we’ll watch something chill, clap twice, kiss once, go home. Notthis.
"Gio, you’re not taking the car, right? That Escobar guy?" I’m staring at him from afar. Yup.
He one hundred percent looks like a mythological creature that eats men.
"Of course I’m taking the car. The Escobar guy."
I gasp. "Are you INSANE?" Lorenzo pats my shoulder like I’m five. "Relax, sweetheart. Gio knows what he’s doing. Escobar is a brick. A literal brick. Racing a bike with a car is the dumbest matchup. The dude is probably high and wants to prove a point."
Before I can yell again, Gio grips my shoulders and sits me down on a low wall like I’m about to faint.
"Ravioli," he says gently, kneeling a little so he’s eye-level. "Didn’t expect to say that… but bigger doesn’t always mean better. This is easy for me." I look at the car again. The demon Ferrari with murder in its headlights.
I’m not convinced. Not at all.
Gio nudges my shoulder with his elbow. "Don’t let that car scare you. It looks crazy, yeah… but that doesn’t mean it can beat me." I raise a brow.
"Okay, listen," he says, pointing at the Ferrari. "The car? It’s heavy. Like, fifteen hundred kilos heavy. My bike isn’t even two hundred. Light means fast reactions. I move quicker than he ever will."
He steps in front of me a little, tilting his head, making sure I’m not spiraling. "And that car needs space. Long roads, wide turns. My bike doesn’t. I can switch directions in half a second. He can’t."
I start nodding. Slowly. Still terrified. But listening. "And his engine has tothink.Computers, systems, traction control. Sure, it’s fast, but it needs perfect conditions." He taps his bike behind him. "Mine moves the second I twist the grip. No delay. No bullshit."
I hate that he’s right, because I’m scared but he makes total sense. "And braking?" he adds. "I stop faster. WAY faster. In a race like this, that’s everything. If he brakes late, he slides. If I brake late, my bike listens to me." He glances back at the Ferrari, then at me again. "So yeah, he’s strong. But I’m quicker, lighter, better. I can weave through space he doesn’t even fit in."
He shrugs. I exhale. "Come on. You’ve seen me ride, Rava," he says softly. "You know I can beat him. Easy."
I let out a long breath. Then another. And another.
"Okay, I trust you." He nods, relieved, then grins and kisses me quickly. "Go get a front-row spot," he says against my lips. "I want you to see me win. And reward me after."
I laugh, finally standing up. "I like the spirit," I tell him. "I’m going." Gio heads off with Lorenzo right behind him and I push my way through the crowd. People shove me and I shove back, always with gentle, polite shoves, because I don’t want to die tonight. I somehow manage to squeeze up close enough tosee everything. There are giant screens overhead so all of us peasants who aren’t behind a wheel can follow every turn.
Gio walks straight toward Escobar. I watch them talk.
Well… Gio talks. Escobar just glares. He looks pissed for absolutely no reason. Why would you be angry at someone you want to race? What’s the logic?
Shouldn’t you be like"yeah man let’s have fun"?
