The last light lit up. For one excruciating moment I felt my foot slip on the pedal, but I kept the bite without the car sliding forwards. And then the lights were all off, and I was roaring forwards. To my right was Brooke Savage, but the bigger threat just behind me was Max Burnham, championship leader. At the first turn, a left turn, I had the inside line, and though Brooke tried to squeeze me toward the gravel I was far enough ahead at the apex of the curve that she had to back off from the chase. That meant I was clear of her for the second, trickier curve and into the long straight.
In front of me, Theo had already won the battle with Frankie and was storming ahead of the pack with clear air.
In racing, there were two potential advantages to track positioning. In front of the pack, there was clean air, undisturbed by anyone else. Behind each car was a slipstream. If I could stay in Frankie’s slipstream until my Drag Reduction System was allowed, I could get ahead of him. I could tell that Frankie was already far enough behind Theo that he would end up in a disadvantageous area - dirty air, where his car would be buffeted by the crossover of air at the end of a slipstream.
“He has to let me past,” I told my team. “I have faster race pace, and I have a chance of catching up to Theo.”
“Have you tried buying him flowers, or asking him out to a drink?”
“Cheeky bastard. Can I get past Frankie or not?”
“We’re relaying the request to his crew, we’ll get back to you. Just stick in his slipstream for now.”
For a whole lap, with clouds overhead and threatening rain, I did my best to stick to Frankie’s tail without crashing into him. I could get past, but team orders were firm that we weren’t to overtake one another without permission. We weren’t allowedto race for fear of crashing, and costing the team as whole a big bunch of points.
“C’mon guys, Theo Tyler is getting ahead of us!” I growled.
“Frankie has been told to move over,”I was told.“Prepare to overtake.”
“Thank God,” I muttered, having already switched off the communication link. I kept to Frankie’s tail, ready for him to shift over the track or slow down to let me past. Instead, as I crept forward, he mirrored my movements, making an overtake a risky endeavour. I checked my own mirrors, and Brooke was creeping up behind us. Close enough to see the situation I was stuck in, and potentially happy to attempt the risky overtake that would make mepersona non gratawith my team.
“Why isn’t he moving?” I growled through the comms.
“He’s switched off comms. Disobeying team orders. We’ve taken it up with the team principal, hold tight.”My race manager sounded annoyed, but I knew they were keeping their real feelings buried deep. When Frankie’s father owned the team, what could any of us do to fight the system we were caught in?
This time, I kept my finger on the comms button as I spoke. “Wouldn’t want to upset Frankie’s daddy, now would we?”
As we entered lap three and the turn that I’d previously outsmarted Brooke on, I knew I had to make a move or risk us both losing our place to her and potentially to Max Burnham. I feinted toward the inside line, and Frankie moved immediately to defend. One twitch of the wheel and I was sailing around the outside of him even as his wheels dipped into the gravel, spraying the track behind him and slowing him down. I checked my mirrors as Brooke slipped past him too, but I felt I had the race pace advantage on her as we pushed around another lap. A quick check in with my team confirmed that Theo was fast, but I was matching and maybe slightly exceeding him.
The rain that was threatening never arrived, and though the whole team exceeded expectations with pit stops and strategy, I hadn’t quite matched Theo by the end of the race. From the twenty second gap that Frankie had allowed to build up with his stupidity, I had cut down Theo’s lead to less than five by the time we crossed the finish line, chequered flags waving.
“Well done,” I said, as we stood on the podium, crowds cheering. “You deserved the win.”
“I didn’t,” said Theo. “If your teammate hadn’t screwed you over, you would have whooped me.”
“We will never know,Teodoro.But I aim to always keep you on your toes.”
The win had taken Theo into the lead for the European half of the championship, with three races to go. Max Burnham had finished far enough back to give us both a real chance of competing, and the newspapers would no doubt start hyping up the three potential champions and a climactic end to the season.
But it was a bittersweet feeling. I was the only one of the three of us who may not be racing in just a few weeks’ time. I was in line for the championship, and even if I lifted the cup, I may never have the chance again.
That night, I received a call from my agent that could revive my career — and jeopardise the relationship with Theo that I had worked so hard to build.
Theo
Southern Spain
It was weird, I had only been to Sebastian’s country home once. But it was starting to feel like a little oasis away from worry already. I could feel my shoulders drop and my jaw unclench as I drove the borrowed Jeep Wrangler up the dusty road toward the whitewashed structure.
We only had the night together - the last few races of the season really ramped up the frequency to keep TV viewers tuning in consistently and weekly - but Sebastian had called me late after my victory and asked that I meet him here, at his house, on the Tuesday. By Wednesday evening we would both be back in full promotion mode for the German Grand Prix.
I spotted Sebastian, in all his glory, leaning over the glass barriers that surrounded the terrace. He waved lazily as I parked up in the open garage. When I’d ascended the stairs to the living floor, Sebastian still hadn’t moved.
I walked through the living area, shedding my light jacket as I did. It was almost thirty degrees, and he’d left the big glass doors out onto the terrace open to let fresh, dry air circulate through the space.
I was still mesmerised by Sebastian in the setting sun. On a whim, I stripped off my t-shirt and dropped it to the floor as I approached him. He still hadn’t turned to look at me, but as soon as I was in touching distance I reached out one arm to draw my fingers down his back. My skin never seemed to tan, and the contrast between our colours was so obvious the closer we got to summer.
Sebastian still hadn’t turned to face me, and something felt…not right. Like the ease with which we’d learned to talk to each other had been swept away and replaced with the same initial awkwardness as when we’d first stayed here together.
