They let him break away, and he has his hand on his hip, head tipped as it shakes as if in disbelief. Then slowly, as if time stands still, he steps towards me, turning his body before flicking his visor up. Ice blues catch me off guard, misty and teary, glistening under the afternoon sun. His gloved finger points to me before he presses them into a heart.
I swallow, ignoring every fibre in my body that wants to go to him.
Turning, he walks to be weighed and congratulates the other two drivers. Nora slips through the barrier, flashing her lanyard before she disappears. He hovers near the barrier just in front of us. His helmet is finally being pulled from his head and that’s when he catches my gaze, flashing me a slow smirk and a wink. My heart free falls through my chest.
“Come.” Anaïs links her fingers through mine and pulling me out of the crowds.
“Where are we going?” I ask, looking back towards where Royce disappeared.
“Podium.” She smiles at me as I follow her.
“I feel…” I can’t even put into words.
“I know.” She gives a knowing nod.
My fingers tingle, and I find myself looking down at them, turning them palm side up and furrowing my brow.
“He looks at you completely different.”
My eyes trail her. “Who?”
“Royce,” she says softly.
I scoff a laugh. “He is playing, he’s got to make people think we’re the real thing.”
She hums and lifts a shoulder. “I suppose.”
“Yeah.” I lick my lips, ignoring that lump that has made itself known again. The soft breeze dances through my hair as we move to where the podium is and I feel like a fraud. “I forgot my notebook.” I sigh, running my fingers through my roots.
“You won’t forget this moment,” she reassures me, giving my thigh a pat.
“I hope not.”
We roll to a halt, and she is pulling me from the seat as we run towards the crowd.
“Oh my God,” I pant as we begin to slow. “This is mental. How are we going to get through?”
“Perks of being married to the CEO of Saint Onyx.”
She winks and tugs me forward towards the security guard. She flashes her lanyard and I hear her mutter something about the Saint Onyx name. The guard gives a heavy nod and seeks out Creed as he holds his hand up.
“There we go.” She scrunches her nose as she begins making her way through the path that is being made in front of her. “Only joking about the CEO thing, I’m their social mediamanager, so I get front row,” she sings just as we get to where the team stand.
Creed rolls her in front of him, and in doing so, she takes me with her. Both of us are standing in front of the barrier, front row seats to this moment.
I have never felt dirtier than I do now. I shouldn’t be here. I should be tucked away, watching it on a screen whilst writing down all the crucial bits. But here I am, watching this moment unfold because I am hisfakegirlfriend.
Snapped from my thoughts, Anaïs nudges me as the crowd goes wild and there he is. Wearing a Pirelli black cap, his skin shimmers from post-race sweat but he walks onto that podium like he belongs there. Cool and collected, he waves to the crowd and then he sees me, eyes locking on mine as if I am his focal point.
The other two drivers walk onto their platforms, and we watch as they’re all given a trophy. We scream and cheer when Royce holds his in the air, proudness etched into his face. A smile that I have never seen graces his lips.
The cheers and chatter fall silent as the Dutch anthem begins to play, all three racers standing silent, taking it all in, every single second imprinting on their minds. It’s one that will play on loop for infinity. The music fades out before the overture ofGeorge Bizet’sopera Carmen,the playful notes of the toreador song echo around the podium as the drivers focus on Royce, spraying him in the face and all over as they celebratehim.
I glance at Anaïs and she is filming everything; Creed has a hand wrapped around her waist and I can see the immense proudness in his eyes as he watches his son up there. I feel something, so I can’t imagine how Creed is feeling right now.
It all comes to an end and the drivers disappear. The crowds slowly fizzle out, and I follow Creed and Anaïs.
“What happens now?” I ask, my skin tingling as I look back at the podium.
