I can see us doing this for a long time. On the road, not hiding. Not saying we’ll be doing PDA all over the grid, but I’d like us to be able to come into work together and have no one bat an eyelid. We could go away over winter break, maybe spend time at home together. Not that I have a home. I should probably start looking at a temporary rental for the winter or something, but for once I don’t want temporary.
I want dinners with his– or as he keeps insisting–ourfriends. I want to make time for Cole and Ash like they keep texting me for. I want double dates with him and Harper and Kian. I want to spend every night with him and wake up in the morning to him clinging to me on one side of the bed.
I don’t see why we can’t have that.
‘Soooo,’ I linger over my words. It’s not that I’m scared because I don’t think he’s going to decline, but it’s never easy putting yourself out there. Plus, this will be the start of navigating a new era together.
‘Soooo,’ he teases, swiping up the last strawberry from the fruit platter.
‘I was just thinking, we’ve been spending a lot of time together and doing these weird dates that we can manage between races and what not, and I guess what I’m trying to say is, would you wanna be my boyfriend?’
‘Ooooh, boyfriend,’ he says, mocking the way I rushed out that final word.
Rolling my eyes, I force out a sigh. ‘Nope, I take it back. Rescind the offer. You remain just my little bitch driver.’
‘Fuck you. I’m not shorter than you, asshole. I’m the tallest driver on the grid.’
‘You might wanna put that on your Grindr profile.’
‘Baby, I don’t need a profile. I’ve already bagged myself the hottest boyfriend going. And, to be honest, I thought we already were…’ He reaches for my hand, threading his fingers through mine and damn it if there isn’t a little fizz in my nose as he squeezes.
We’re doing this. I have a boyfriend. And yeah, it comes with risks to my job, but he’s truly worth it.
He turns into my hold and kisses me softly, clutching the comforter to keep him in position without causing him too much pain. It’s gentle and all kinds of soppy, until he winces and I force him off me to get him comfortable again.
‘We should probably sleep,’ I whisper into the darkness, kissing the back of his neck and then the top of his head as he slides back into a prone position.
‘Caleb?’ His voice is so low I almost miss the way he says my name as I’m trying to get comfy but also stay close to him without hurting him.
‘Yeah?’ His hand finds mine under the comforter and squeezes it gently.
‘Thank you for looking after me.’
‘If you’ll let me, I always will.’ It’s a promise of a lifetime. I don’t want it to come across as too much or too soon, but I’m falling for him whether I like it or not. Whether the racing world likes it or not.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Johannes
Finishing P2 in Qatar is a fantastic feeling, but I’m absolutely desperate for that top of the podium finish again. It’s been too long at this point after missing out on a whole race in Brazil, but I can feel it in my bones that it’s incoming. It has to be.
Texas is where I’ll finally make it happen. Where I start that final push to leapfrog Harper to the World Championship. I’ve made some good leeway in catching him up, but I need a win, and for him to have a really bad race and finish outside the points. I would never wish that for him– I love being his biggest competitor and our battle on the grid– but right now, I could do with his engineers fucking up a pit stop or two.
I’ve been trying to sleep for hours on the plane from Qatar to Austin, but I can’t drift off. My usual podcast routine hasn’t helped, nor has the fact that Caleb and I have sort of bedded down together, despite being in separate seats. Two separate blankets, but he’s reached his hand across the lowered divide, clutching me close.
It’s risky when we’re surrounded by our colleagues, but the blankets cover us and Nils is the next closest person to us– and he’s been conked out for longer than anyone. The plane is quiet as everyone tries to get some sleep, but what’s going on in my head is stupidly loud right now.
I qualified first in Qatar, but it still wasn’t enough. And, yeah, I was still recovering from two broken ribs and the pain had been a little bit bad in the actual race after taking my painkillers too early and the race being delayed.
But now, as we fly to Texas and the race isn’t for a whole six days, I have plenty of time to be fully recovered and ready to make the last three races my absolute bitch. If I win all of them, it still won’t be enough for me to beat Harper if he finishes second in all of them. I need Elijah to be on his absolute A game and push Harper down to third in a race– or three. I’ll literally take anything at this point.
I am so fucking tired. I grab my phone from where it’s on charge and, fuck, we are just an hour and a half from landing. How long have I actually been lying here? Why won’t my brain just switch the fuck off? Why can’t I just fucking win?
Texas. That’s what I have to focus on. Visualisation. That’s what my strategist is always talking about. It’s not always been my go-to. I prefer the stimulator or to make the most of the free practices when it comes to getting a good feel for the track. But maybe it’s what I need right now to get that win.
The Circuit of Americas is an easy one for this technique. That uphill climb at the first turn is significant and I know I need the speed to truly conquer it, so I need to be in Q1 to get up there right off the bat. Then it’s all about making sure no bastard overtakes me on that sharp left turn. Not breaking too hard or risking a lock-up, but making sure I don’t end up in the wall at the same time.
Then the esses– four, S-shaped corners that really test my precision. They demand a delicate balance of aggression and finesse, which is what Harper has in bucket-loads. And whilst I have the finesse, sometimes my aggression doesn’t pay off.
