“Deal,” said Sebastian. I leaned down so we could seal the bet with a kiss. “Now get out of my hotel room.”
“Wow, that’s not very nice,” I pouted.
Sebastian blushed. “The friction from your jeans is making me hard again, and if you stay straddling me for a second longer I am going to be forced to fuck you into the mattress. And you will be late for your team briefing.”
Well. We didn’t wantthat.
I walked into the team briefing five minutes late, trying my best not to wince as I sat down. I wish I’d thought about how painful a quickie session with Sebastian could make sitting down before I’d thrown myself at him for the second time that morning. As we’d both already come, it hadn’t been as much of a quickie as I’d intended, and I felt like I might have friction burns on my arse and bruises on my hips from where he’d gripped them so tight.
“Glad you could join us,” said Armand, my team principle, as I pulled the headphones off the monitor in front of me. Team briefings were hybrid, and there was an engineer back athome base in England talking through the headsets about our performance in the corners. We had dominated other teams there, even though our straight line performance was far from the best.
“Theo used that to his advantage yesterday. Graham, you were pretty good, but I think we should lean into our strengths rather than trying to fix our weakness here.”
Sat across the desk and looking at his own monitor, Graham nodded and wrote something down in his notebook. He was a class act, a professional, and at thirty years old and with a wife and kids to think about, he never let the bad races get him down.
The briefing continued for almost an hour. Qualifying was to start at twelve, so we split at the end to speak with our individual race engineers and teams. Moto 1 was a team sport first, and an individual sport second, so there was still some competitiveness between Graham and me, but this season I’d stayed far enough ahead that I was the team’s main priority.
I was sat at my monitor flicking through the slides I’d been sent by the race engineer when a tap on my shoulder made me jump. “Got a minute?” asked Armand, and I nodded, following him out of the communal room and into his office. He gestured for me to close the door.
“How are you feeling about the race?” Armand asked me as he sat behind his desk. He was studying his computer screen rather than looking me in the eye, and I felt that the question was about to lead to something further. Something worse.
“I feel good. I’m second in qualifying, and I know I’ve got better race pace than Frankie Jenkins. Quite frankly, I’m astounded he qualified in first place.”
“No one’s more surprised than me,” said Armand. “However, I’m more referring to the man in third.”
“Sebastian?” I asked. My heart leapt into my throat.
“He started off this season with a run of bad form, and you were excellent. However, your form has dropped in recent weeks.”
“Right. Shouldn’t we be more worried about Max Burnham? He’s ahead of both of us, but within catching distance. We both know if I beat Frankie today, I’m likely to be in pole position going into the German race.”
“I would be, but…sit down, Theo. I need to talk to you, and I cannot have you hanging around the door like you’re in the principal’s office at school.”
With my heart beating a nervous samba again my ribcage and my cheeks feeling very cold all of a sudden, I sat down in the chair opposite Armand.
“I have had a request for comment fromRacing Monthlymagazine. Asking specifically about your relationship with Sebastian, as they are planning on running a story about your relationship. From bitter rivals, to friends, tolovers. First of all, I must ask you, is this true?”
I did my best to look disaffected, even though I felt like I was about to faint. “It’s not a problem if it is true, right?”
“It shouldn’t be, but I would rather find out from my driver than from the press, Theo.”
“Then…yes, we’re in a relationship.”
“Romantic or sexual?”
“Is that really appropriate?”
“Theo.”
I sighed. “We’re romantic. Boyfriends. Not just…messing around.”
Armand grinned. “How lovely for you both. Now, we need to know how to handle this. If you’d like to make a statement. And I need you to reassure me that this relationship, no matter how serious, will not affect your racing. That ithasn’talready affected your racing.”
I stood. “No statement, if Racing Weekly already knows about it I don’t see the need to make a big deal of it. And no, it has not affected my racing. In fact…Sebastian’s been my rock this last run of bad races. And I’m all the better for having him. If I have the chance to beat him in the championship, you bet I’ll be taking it. Our relationship will survive.”
“Good. Now get out there and warn your man of the tornado that’s about to hit you both. And then go and win that race.”
“Aye aye, cap’n,” I grinned. I hadn’t realised quite how much weight would lift off my shoulders at the thought of the world knowing about us. I had turned the door handle already when I realised I hadn’t asked perhaps the most crucial question of all.
