My lips find hers, and a sigh of relief escapes me. This is exactly what I needed, which is why I ignore the reminder going off in my head, telling me I don’t do this. I’ve kept my life as private as possible because the media already criticises every part Ican’thave to myself. But at this very second, I couldn’t give less of a fuck. It feels too right. Having Chiara melt into me at the contact of our mouths is pure bliss. After the shitty race I’ve had, it’s everything I need to wash away my anger, at least for now.
“I’m still proud of you, loser,” she says, and I let out a shocked laugh, poking her sides as I step back.
“Loser? I’m going to make you regret that later,” I warn, and she purses her lips to hide the naughty smirk I know wants to spread over her face.
“Can’t wait,” she replies, and I give her one more quick peck before high-fiving a few more of my team members.
My feet, tired and sore, bring me to the little podium stand where a cap and water are waiting for me. I’m pulled to the side, reminded I have to get weighed like every driver on the grid, which I get over with quickly to get some water. I use the towel to wipe away the sweat dripping down the sides of my face, listening to Jonathan getting interviewed. I try not to listen because my heart is happy and full from my brief contact with Chiara and her lips, but his words trigger the anger inside of me again.
“I drove a clean race and won fairly, that’s why I didn’t get a penalty,” Jonathan says, and I bring my eyes to him to see a smug smile on his stupid face.
Yeah, I’m going to lose it.
“You’re Leonard’s biggest rival in the championship at the moment. How do you feel about that?” the interviewer asks, and I suck in a sharp breath to try and calm my racing heart. His answer is going to enrage me, I already know it.
“I’m positive my team and I will keep improving and win the championship this year. Leonard is strong, but I think overall I’m the faster driver.”
I can’t help myself. I let out a horrifyingly loud snort. Heads turn in my direction, but I can’t bring myself to care so I simply take a sip of my water, unbothered. Jonathan glares at me, so I wink at him, the bottle in my hand pressing against my lips. I can be disrespectful too.
“Well, congrats on the win,” the interviewer adds, and then it’s my turn to be interviewed.
My expression is as emotionless and cold as I can manage. I stand where Jonathan was only moments ago, clinging to the water bottle so I don’t dig my nails into the palms of my hands. The woman interviewing us has an easy smile on her lips. I answer her questions about the race, doing my best not to let my rage come through in my voice. Since I’ve been practicing hiding my feelings for as long as I can remember, I don’t let on anything in my tone or choice of words. Publicly is not the way to address this situation. Jonathan has decided to be arrogant. That’s not my problem. Sooner or later, I will beat him in the championship, and I don’t have to parade that fact around for everyone else. They will see what I’m capable of, and it will be enough for the rest of the world to stop underestimating me, including my teammate.
After the celebrations on the podium where Jonathan and I have to pretend to get along so fucking well, I’m sticky with champagne and ready for a shower. I’m halfway to my private room where I can wash off the celebrations when Adrian Romana appears in front of me, his happy smile firmly set in place. This man might have the biggest heart apart from Chiara I’ve ever witnessed in a person. We’ve hung out almost every race weekend at some point or another, and I’m genuinely content whenever he’s in my presence. It feels like I can be myself around him, which is a nice contrast to the way I feel toward every other driver on the grid, including his best friend James. They’re almost inseparable during race weekends, but I understand why. I recently found out Adrian has lost almost his entire family. Only his sister, Valentina, his grandpa, and his aunt remain, but two of them live in L.A., which means he’s far away from his sister for most of the year.
“That was a bullshit move, and everyone knows it, mate,” is the first thing the rookie with blonde hair and bright eyes says to me. I furrow my brows at him in response, earning me a confused look from him. Oh good, we’re both confused. “What?” he asks, and I study his face.
“No one will agree with you on that. People tend to root for whoever is up against me,” I explain, and Adrian gives me a disgusted look.
“Well, that’s fucked up. You’re the best driver on the grid, and the only person who could beat you is me if I had a faster car,” he says with a smug smile. I cross my arms in front of my chest, fighting back a smirk. Adrian is quite a bit taller than me, but I’m wider by a few centimetres, more muscular.
“You’re the only one, huh?” I challenge, and Adrian gives me a self-assured look and a pat on the shoulder. I watch his hand where it touches me, a slight warning in my gaze that is meant to remind him to not do it again. He doesn’t notice it, or, if he does, he gives zero fucks about my threatening eyes.
“If my sister Val was a driver, then I wouldn’t be the only one. However, you still have a few years to prepare before she makes it into F1,” he replies with a proud grin.
This isn’t the first time Adrian has spoken to me about his sister. She was recently kicked from her F3 team, a racing league below Formula One. I’ve looked into the reasons why, but there weren’t any tangible ones. Valentina was one of the fastest drivers on the grid, her lap times were close to perfection, she was dedicated, and a force to be reckoned with. Hell, I’ve never seen a more talented racer in my life.
Then, one day, they decided to drop her from the team. No other one has offered her a place in Formula Three again, and it’s been bothering me to see someone go through the same thing I went through as a child. Apart from the people I love, no one knows I was kicked off a Formula Three team, and I intend to keep it that way. They forgot about me long enough so when I made a comeback, it was like I was a new person. Fine by me. It allowed me to go further than I was before. The thought of someone as talented as Valentina going through this gives me an itch on the inside of my brain I’m not sure how to scratch. It bothers me.
“She’s in L.A., right?” I ask, and Adrian, still with that proud smile on his face, gives me a single nod.
“Yes, she is, but I hope to bring her to one of my races soon. She deserves to get away for a little, she works too hard,” he explains and stretches his arms into the air, his upper body muscles flexing as he covers his mouth to hide his yawn. “Anyway, if you need backup for kicking Jonathan’s ass, I’m your man. I’ll even get James to help too. Despite what you may think, he isn’t a big fan of your teammate either,” he says right before giving my shoulder one last clasp and squeeze. Surprisingly enough, I don’t mind it as much as before or when anyone else touches me. Well, anyone but Chiara. Her hands could be on me all day and I’d thank her.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I reply, but right as Adrian is about to walk away, Jonathan appears behind him. I try to force down my anger, but seeing his arrogant face makes it almost impossible.
“Ah, gentlemen, having a nice tea party, are we?” Jonathan asks, and I’m about to respond when Adrian beats me to it.
“Yeah, and you weren’t fucking invited. Get out of here, asshole. No one wants to talk to you, let alone look at your stupid face.”God, I freaking adore this kid.Jonathan scrambles for words, but nothing audible comes out. “What? Did all that cheating kill your ability to form a proper sentence? That’s too bad. I bet you had something really great to say.” Adrian lets out a soft laugh and then turns to me. “Let’s go, I want to say hi to Chiara,” the Monegasque says, and I follow him to my private room. “God, he’s such an ass,” he mumbles, and I bring my hand to his back, giving him a slight pat.
“Yes, he is, but thanks for that. You didn’t have to intervene,” I assure him, but he flashes me a wicked grin.
“I know, but it’s fun to see people squirm, especially when they deserve it, and Jonathan did.” We step through my door to find Quinn and Chiara deep in conversation. They’re looking at a screen, and whatever is on it has them in a heated discussion. “Chiara, how’ve you been?” Adrian asks, his lips pulling into a warm smile.
“Good, kid, how about you?” she replies, and he lets out an exasperated breath.
“You wound me, Chiara. ‘Kid’? Really?” he says, and I give him a warning nudge. Not sensing what I’m trying to say because he’s clueless, I decide to clarify.
“Back off,” I say and step toward Starling, who is tilting her head up to me and puckering up her lips to get me to kiss her. I place my mouth on hers, somehow tasting her peachy scent on my tongue. “Mine,” I whisper greedily, only for her to hear, and Chiara gives me a bright smile.
