Theo
1 Year Ago - Monaco
It was the first race of the season, and I wasready to go. The smell of petrol hung in the air, and our teams were working hard on getting the cars ready for the race. Albert Stevenson, the legendary commentator and Moto 1 pundit, was interviewing various celebrities and socialites as they did their best to avoid him and get their selfies with the real stars of the show.Us.
I grinned as I passed one particularly beautiful model. She winked at me, and I felt a blush rise in my cheeks. I still found the attention a bit weird after spending so long as the scrawny little cousin of the Tyler family. Had I gotten more attractive since my jump to Moto 1? Sure. The training regime was brutal, and I needed a good upper-half body strength to deal with the relentless g-force on my body from driving at 230 miles per hour on the straights. But I still didn’t feel like I was some great beauty. More a bang-average guy whose neck could now supportthe weight of a fully-laden bookshelf thanks to months of g-force training..
I loosened the zip on my racing suit, let it drop, and tied the arms around my waist. It wouldn’t do to lose so much weight through sweat just before the race, and it was an unseasonably warm thirty degrees Celsius in March. Monaco was experiencing a heatwave, and all of us drivers would suffer for it.
I was so preoccupied making sure my vest was tucked into my trousers that I didn’t notice Albert Stevenson until he was thrusting a microphone in my face. “Theo Tyler, welcome back to another year of racing. First of all, how happy are you with yesterday’s qualifying?”
I pasted on my media-appeasing smile and formulated my reply before replying. The MIA had instituted a new swearing rule for the year’s season, which impacted some of us more than others. “Very happy. I’m not used to sitting at pole, but I think we’ve got the car for it this year, so I’m happy to have pushed it to its limits.”
“How about your teammate, Graham Evans? He only reached tenth in the qualifying, a far cry from last year’s Monaco record. There are rumours swirling around about his marital troubles, do you think they might have impacted his racing?”
Albert was fishing for a story I wouldn’t give him. “I’m sure Graham will fight for a podium finish. We all have rough qualifiers, and he’s always given his all in every race.”
“He’ll have to fight with your fiercest rival for that podium spot. Sebastian García was just a tenth of a second behind you yesterday and will be hot on your heels today. How do you feel about the rivalry hotting up between you?”
Sebastian García. SebastianfuckingGarcía. The bane of my life. And the most beautiful, infuriating man on the planet. What did I think of him? “I think I’d like to focus on winning this race and the next, Albert. I’m not going to start talking aboutthis year’s rivalry before we even get started,” I said. There. Diplomatic.
Before Albert could ask any further questions, I vaguely waved him way before melting back into the crowd. Hopefully some Hollywood starlet or reality star with more money than sense would rescue me by asking for a selfie or my hand in marriage.
As I walked, I looked backward to make sure Albert wasn’t following. He seemed to be caught up in an awkward conversation with a minor royal, so I breathed a sigh of relief. And then stumbled right into someone.
“Sorry, I wasn’t looking,” I mumbled. A tanned hand reached out to clutch at my bicep and keep me in place.
“Watch where you’re going,Teodoro,” said a familiar voice. I looked up into the striking hazel eyes of Sebastian García.
“You know my name is Theo,” I countered. Great. Lame.
There was heat between us, and it wasn’t just because we’d started sweating in the warm Monaco sun. Like me, he’d tied the arms of his overalls around his waist and was wearing his team’s thermal t-shirt underneath. He raced for Remini, a team sponsored by the big-brand sports drink, and their team colours were black and white. At least I knew that should have him sweating more under his helmet. Black absorbed heat like a bitch.
I realised that I’d allowed his clutch on my arm for too long, and I yanked myself from his grip. “Is there anything I can do for you?” I challenged. Sebastian really didn’t care about personal space, and he was really up in mine.
Sebastian laughed. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
I rolled my eyes. “Come on, you really want to carry that on after last year?”
Sebastian had been racing since he was nineteen, so for eight years. I’d been racing since I was twenty years old, and this was my second season. But my rookie season had been anunexpectedly strong showing for me, and there had even been a brief moment when I’d been in contention for the crown. So we’d started betting, just to add to the stakes between us.
“If you win, I’ll give you my race helmet. Signed.” Sebastian had said. For a rookie, looking into the eyes of my idol, it had seemed like a dream come true. And then I’d beaten him in that race, and everything changed. Suddenly, we were betting against each other more and more, with higher and higher stakes.“Sebastian, if you lose, you’ll need to wear a pair of pink Speedos for every beach photo opportunity you get this year.”
“Teodoro, if you lose, you have to shave off all that blonde hair.”
We’d each won consecutive races. Pink Speedos saw a 200% spike in sales, and the shock of blonde hair I’d spent years treasuring had ended up auctioned off for charity.
“So you’re telling me you don’t want to bet any more? You’re in first place, you have the advantage.”
He was muttering quietly so that the people around us couldn’t hear. “Fine. What are you thinking?”
“If you lose, you have to get a tattoo. Right here.” He poked his finger right underneath my chest, a jab that hurt far less than any tattoo needle ever would.
“Of what?” I asked.
“Anything I say.”
I gulped. But I was in first. And I had the faster car. “And if you lose, you’ve got the same conditions.”
