He pulls out into the pit lane and manoeuvres out to the starting grid. He qualified first yesterday so this puts him in a great spot for the race. All he needs to do it hold it and hope there is nothing that can sabotage this.
Stepping forward, my eyes lock on the big screen.
“So, here we are, the Monaco Grand Prix. You’re joined by myself, Coby, and my dear friend Marcel, and of course, all eyes are on our new contender, Royce Lexington, who is starting on the front row. His first ever pole start. It’s great to see when drivers get their first pole, isn’t it?”one of the commentators says.
Pride swarms in my stomach, though my heart is in my throat as I watch their formation lap.
“He has driven impeccably over this season so far, I really do think he is the one to watch. I have a good feeling about this, Coby. Let’s just hope Saint Onyx have built the winning car. We’ve seen how well it has driven over the last few races, and honestly, I feel like each race he is getting better, faster, more confident and it’s great to see.”
“Totally, Coby, I really do hope for Royce they have a good race.”
I watch as the cars slow, Royce halting in his grid spot. The other nineteen cars roll to a stop behind him, and I can feel thenerves bouncing around the garage. Maybe I should have sat in the VIP box. This all feels like too much pressure.
The lights turn red, my eyes pinned as two by two they turn off before we hear the echoing, “Eyes up, lights out, and just keep watching.”
The garage cheer as Royce makes an excellent start, diving down the inside as he hits the first corner, a decent gap between him and the car behind. Some claps fill the space, and I find myself not wanting to watch but unable to take my eyes from the screen. Part of me wishes I was in the crowd, cheering him on, but I am right where he wants me.
“God, I feel sick with nerves,” I mutter as Anaïs hovers next to me and she gives a knowing nod.
“It doesn’t get easier.” She gives me a sympathetic smile. “But Royce has never raced like this before, it’s like something has changed…” Her eyes focus on the screen but then she turns her attention to me. “I think that change is you.”
I laugh it off. “No, not me. He just needed to find himself again.” I blink, my stomach twisting, my eyes glued to the screen.
We’re ten laps in and Royce is still first. He seems to be pulling away, causing a big enough gap that when he pits, he should be able to get back out in front.
“I’m going to get my laptop out,” I say to Anaïs, falling back and settling in the small seating area.
I feel like I haven’t written in ages, when in fact, I had been writing on and off for the last few days. I only struggled when Royce called whatever this was off.
Fake or not, I am kind of obsessed with him. I don’t want him to know that, though. Still, I want to keep my cool if I can. My lips twitch into a smile when my thoughts are laced with him.
Opening my laptop, I stare at the screen, knowing what I want to write but the words won’t come. I’m distracted, but not in a bad way. In the best fucking way.
Shaking my head, I close it back down and bounce my way over to where Edel is staring at the screen. I don’t even know why I tried writing.
“Is he still doing okay?” I find myself asking, scared I am going to jinx it.
“He is doing amazing.” She beams at me.
“I feel angsty,” I admit, my fingers pressed to my lips, eyes glued back to the screen.
“It’s totally understandable.” She hums. “It’s a hard race.” She drags her gaze from the television and gives me a soft smile. “He is driving epically, though.”
My heart swells in my chest as the camera swings to him, and I listen to the commentators praise his driving and tell us all how much he deserves to be up front.
“Fastest sector two,” Anaïs calls, jumping up and down as she claps.
Nora waltzes back, phone in hand.
“I feel like I can’t watch,” I admit, covering my eyes for just a moment.
“You’re going to miss it all.” Edel nudges into me.
“I’m too nervous,” I swallow but I don’t want him to know I was feeling anxious at any point. He must be feeling it. I know he said he wasn’t, but how can he not be?
“Oooh, he is coming into box,” Anaïs announces just as the pit crew run out and wait for him.
I slowly bring my hands from my face, but not completely. I keep them close so if need by I can hide again. We look outside and see his car wrapped in grey, silver, and yellow as it halts.
