Reluctantly, I did as I was told, and I sucked in a breath as I felt the cold suncream drizzle onto my back.
“As for why I am here,” he started, “my family is from Andalucia. I spend every off-season here. And yet we have never run into one another. I wonder why that is.”
“Must have just missed each other,” I mumbled into the canvas of the sun bed. Sebastian’s hands didn’t stop as they moved onto my calves and thighs. For me, it was torture. For Sebastian, it was probably just another Saturday. He always had been veryEuropean. Free with his hugs, his hands. Never afraid to stand a little too close for comfort.
“I am very sorry for last year, Teo,” said Sebastian. “It was…I was mistaken. And I have missed your friendship and rivalry. I did not enjoy not getting to talk to you last year.”
“I got my revenge,” I mumbled. “Just…didn’t want to be your friend afterward. It really screwed me up, man.”
Sebastian tapped my thigh as if to have me roll over again, so I did. “I know,” he said. “I made an error. A huge mistake that should not have ruined your season, but it did. And I have kicked myself every day since.”
“You got in my head for the rest of the season!” I shouted. Surprised by the volume in my voice, we both flinched.
Sebastian was quieter in his reply. “I did make a mistake. But it was not me who got into your head for the rest of the season. It wasyou.”
I gulped. I knew he was right. Sebastian squirted a tiny bit of suncream onto the tip of his index finger and leaned over me, so close I could feel his breath cooling on my moist skin. He dabbed a tiny bit of suncream on my nose, my forehead, my chin, and gently rubbed it in all over my face.
“You getwaytoo close,” I said, pushing gently at his chest and praying he didn’t notice me starting to tent inn my shorts. I leaned forward and hugged my knees to my chest.
“I may have gotten too close, but your skin won’t be Ferrari-red to start the season,” he said. “It would clash horribly with your team colours, no?”
“Maybe,” I grumbled. “Nice tattoo, by the way.”
He grimaced. “Well, I couldn’t go around with lies printed across my chest. People would wonder if I really had gottoo closeto you.”
“Who says it’s lies?” I challenged.
“Ibetit was a lie,” said Sebastian.
“No, no, no. We’re not betting again. You can have it. I will retract my statement.”
“I spent three months unable to take my shirt off in public because I hadTheodore Tyler has a bigger dick than metattooed across my chest,” said Sebastian. “And you want to know what else was awful?”
“Knowing it was actually true?”
“Sebastian leaned in. “As I said.Lies. The worst thing what that after we stopped talking, after we stopped betting, we stoppedwinning. Admit it. You need the competition, and so do I.”
I hesitated. I’d spent so long trying to put Sebastian behind me that I hadn’t even thought that he might be what I was missing. “So you want to bring back the bets?”
“I want to bring back the bets,” he confirmed. “Give us something to race for.”
“Shouldn’t we be racing for the championship?” I asked.
“Well…sí. But I cannot race for the championship again like we did last year. It felt nasty. And I don’t think that either of us are nasty people.”
I sighed, perhaps a little dramatically. “You’re right. Let’s be friends.”
The little grin that Sebastian threw my way could have made my heart stop.
Sebastian
Madrid
The air was thick with the smell of gasoline, and I realised I was exactly where I wanted to be. I had missed the feeling of being on the grid, in amongst the action and ready to race. It had only been three months since the end of the last season, but it always felt longer. I had been practicing in the new car and felt confident of my ability. I just had to do my best not to crash and burn like I had last year. My contract was on the line.
Across the paddock, I spied him. Theodore Tyler. My Teodoro. He was talking with Brooke Savage, one of the other Brits on the grid and the only woman. She touched his arm as she leaned in to say something and he leaned back and roared with laughter. It had been a long time since I’d made him laugh. Up until our chance meeting on the beach in Andalucía it had been a long time since I had seen him smile my way. I was happy to slowly work my way back up to a laugh.
“Head in the game, García,” said my team principle, Magnus. He was a gruff American in his late thirties, and a constant pain in my ass.
