“You doing okay?” I ask her, checking my mirrors. The car chasing is closing on me, but I pull away on the straight, leaving him behind.
“I’m doing good.” A gentle laugh fills my ears.
“Fuck, I love your laugh,” I rasp, and I can just imagine her sitting there, a cute smile on her face and those dimples I love.
“I think I should be asking you if you’re okay.”
My chest constricts. “I’m good, kid, I’m real good,” I admit, slowing as I come into the first turn of sector three.
“Good,” she chimes.
“If I win this,” I grumble, taking a sharper turn, my voice jumping as I do.
“Which you will,” she interrupts me.
“I hope you’re ready to celebrate with me.” My tone is light, and fuck, I can’t wait to see her.
“Of course.”
“And wear one those little fucking skirts.” I know she is going to be sitting there all pink cheeked, squirming in her seat.
“Can everyone hear this?” she whispers into the mic.
“Oh yeah, baby.” I chuckle as I cross the line.Three laps to go. “And whilst all the teams are listening...” I pause for a moment as I take a corner and fly down the straight. I love this part of sector one, it’s my favourite section. “Be mine, Athena. Be mine in every fucking sense of the word,” I say, my voice catching
“Always,” she answers rapidly, doesn’t even give it a thought.
“Fuck yeah.” I shout and she giggles. “Right, baby, I’ve got a race to win. Make sure you’re front row of that podium, Lucky. I need you front and centre.”
“I’ll be there,” she coos, “promise.”
“I’ll see you soon, kid,” I mutter.
“See you soon.”
I’m met with silence for a moment before I hear Marcel.
“Let’s bring this home, Royce.”
And that’s just what I do. I approach the finish line, and I know my team are climbing the fences, cheering me on as I see the blur of the chequered flag being waved.
“You are P1, Royce. You won the Monaco Grand Prix!” my dad screams down the mic.
“Oh my God!” I shout back, banging my hand against the steering wheel.
“You did it, son, and it is so deserved.” His voice cracks and my heart swells inside my chest.
“Thank you, Dad. Thank you to the team, thank you all for everything.” I slow and begin waving to the crowds cheering as I drive one final lap.
Parking the car in the P1 spot, I remove my headrest and the steering wheel. I place it on the front of the car before I climb out and run to the crowd of grey, silver, and yellow.
My team.
I run and dive into their arms. Hands smack against my crash helmet, others pat down my back. My dad clings to me, but all I can think about is her. My girl.
Pushing back, I look to the left and there she is, eyes all glassy, fingers pressed to her lips. Fuck. Look at her.
Undoing the strap under my chin, I tug the helmet from my head then grab the balaclava as I pull it off. I close the gap between us, leaning across as I grab her chin and drag her lips on mine, claiming her in front of thousands.
