Page 149 of Trading Paint
My family decided to go to dinner together since it was rare that we were all in the same city at the same time. We ended up going to an Italian restaurant in Daytona Beach by the name of The Cellar restaurant.
A few of the other drivers told us it was good and usually wasn’t crawling with pit lizards as were most of the bars in the area.
When my Grandpa decided to tell stories about me learning to be potty trained, I wasn’t impressed. This is exactly why I did not enjoy my family.
I was not laughing, not even a little when the subject turned toward an obsessed fan who asked if I’d sign her inner thigh. Ordinarily, I would have said “Sure, why not” but something about my mother and Nana sitting at the table struck me as not the time or place for that sort of thing.
And don’t think Spencer didn’t notice because he did, laughing like the goddamn idiot I always knew him to be.
Diffuser – Sway
There are a few things I’ve learned about Jameson over the years.
He never sits still, and I mean that. Even while sleeping he’s constantly moving. Sleeping next to him is similar to sleeping with an overactive toddler.
He is always thinking of racing. He can be having an in-depth conversation with someone about politics (not likely but you never know) and that boy is thinking of racing in some way or form I guarantee it.
And lastly, if there is a lastly, his phone was always ringing.
His phone rang twenty-six times during the two-hour dinner we had with his family. Not once did he answer it but still the fact that he couldn’t actually have a meal without someone wanting something was evidence that this lifestyle was trying.
I could tell it bothered him when his Nana was speaking and she could hear the vibrating of his phone. He finally got to the point he simply turned it off.
It was nice being around his family again and they did nothing but make me feel like one of them. I will say that his Nana made me feel a little strange when she caught me in the bathroom and said, “Oh sugar, when are you going to marry that handsome grandson of mine?”
“Spencer is married already Nana.” I told her squeezing her.
I had a problem with squeezing elderly people. They were just so damn adorable to me that I squeezed them.
Nana pulled back, her pretty-blue eyes glazed over. “My dear, I’m speaking of Jameson.”
I knew that, I was just buying my time, thinking of a lie I could tell her.
“Uh...I...shit,” was about all I could articulate at that moment as Emma barged into the bathroom.
She started fussing with Nana’s curls so I made my getaway.
When I got back to the table, Jameson was ready to go. I think he was exhausted for one and Casten was on his fifth whiskey. To savehimselfthe brunt of embarrassment, we left.
Cal drove the motor coach to Rockingham and Jameson was tired so all of us just ended up getting a hotel room for the night in Daytona Beach. I had to fly out in the morning so this was my last night with him. Thoughts of raping the poor boy came back when we ended up in bed together.
With Emma, Alley, Spencer and Aiden in the room, I wasn’t able to. Not that I would have. I’m pretty chicken-shit when it comes to this but the idea was still there.
I think he had some of the same ideas because when the lights went out, his rough calloused hands explored, as did mine and we ended up kissing again and doing some more touching. The thought wasn’t lost on me that we were both extremely horny and needing relief.
But with each other, that was dangerous.
Our friendship was intense and to cross a line like that whether there were feelings involved or not, it was dangerous. Jameson never showed anything but sexual attraction toward me though and it didn’t appear emotional.
His hands moved quietly, his kisses were soft and tender and before I knew it, I was crying and he knew it.
In a gesture attempting to comfort me, he dragged me against his chest. I could still smell the lasting hints of the race on his skin, mixing with the salt from tears. My body shook in silent sobs as he held me tightly. We never spoke but we also never let go all night. Regardless of my crying for no apparent reason, I never felt more tranquil as I did with him.
Being with him this week made me realize how much I missed him.
I missed the warmth of his body against mine at night. I missed the smell of him, sandalwood and honey mixed with methanol and dirt. I missed watching him race in person and the exciting thrill I got seeing him take the checkered flag or doing a burnout. I missed the smell of the car after a race. The wayhesmelled when he finished a race and would pull me into a hug before he showered, albeit covered in sweat, I didn’t mind.
I missed being in the pits, wondering where he was and then he appeared out of nowhere to put his arm around me, the warm feeling I got—feeling like I belonged to him.
