“Just be careful. From what I’ve learned about Grant as a person, he pretends to be nice, but he hates that a woman is racing,” James adds, his English accent thick as he stares directly into Val’s eyes.
He’s been in love with her for as long as he can remember. Everybody knows it. It’s the reason he made several dumb decisions in the past, but I think he’s gotten a much better handle on his feelings since his son was born.
“Alright, so kick Grant’s ass. Got it,” Val replies with a little mischievous grin, and I shoot her a proud look. If she doesn’t, I fucking will. I’ll fight anyone who thinks my sister, or any other woman, doesn’t belong in Formula One.
“Uh oh, Val has got her murderous face on. Everybody, take cover,” Cameron says as he approaches us, too, a brooding Leonard next to him.
“Better watch out, Kion. If you get in my way, I won’t hesitate to remove you,” my sister teases, so Cameron flings his arm around her shoulder and presses his lips to her cheek to blow air against it. It makes a farting noise so loud, everyone around us turns their head to furrow their brows at them.
“Alright, Cameron, hands off my wife so she can get ready for her race,” Gabriel says, completely ignoring the fact that Val isn’t his wife yet. He snatches her away from his best friend to pick her up and carry her over to where we’re going to stand to listen to the national anthem, Val giggling the whole way.
“You good?” James asks as we walk together, following the two disgustingly in love people.
“Scared shitless. You?” I reply, and he flashes me an amused smile, his blue eyes practically sparkling in the burning afternoon sun.
“Nah, mate, I’m ready for this season. It’s going to be a good one,” James says and nudges me with his shoulder.
I look at him one last time before shifting my gaze forward to see Nevaeh standing off to the side with her team. Gillian is interviewing Kyle. Lincoln is standing with them, too, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up in irritation. He looks guilty as his eyes linger on Nevaeh, but she’s paying him no attention. She’s focused on her work. The only indicators that something is wrong are the bags under her eyes.
Frustration digs its nails into my back, scratching down the length of it until it burns. I want this man as far away from Nevaeh as humanly possible. I want him to apologize to her for all the pain he’s caused her and then fuck off so far, he’ll be on the other side of the galaxy. Something about him just rubs me the wrong way, and I refuse to acknowledge that thatsomethingmight just be my very complicated attraction toward a certain curvy goddess of a woman with honey-brown eyes and hair that somehow always looks flawless.
“Focus,” James says and nudges me again.
Somehow, I manage to do as I’m told, respectfully listening to the anthem before moving back toward my F1 car. Valentina, Gabriel, and I exchange our family saying before we go our separate ways.
“Breathe, race, and win, as long as it doesn’t cost you a limb.”
Grandpa used to say this to us every single time before a race. It was his way of reminding us that we should do whatever it takes to win, as long as we’re safe and we stick to the rules.
Daniel is by my side, going through my last few pre-race rituals with me. Once I’m in the car, Chloe checks in with me. She tells me about the track conditions such as the temperature of the track and level of humidity before reminding me that tire degradation is going to be a pain in the ass today. Okay, she doesn’t use those exact words because she’s a professional, but it’s the same thing.
“Don’t do anything stupid on the opening lap. No risky moves. Gabriel is too fast and smart. He’ll overtake you,” Chloe reminds me, and I let out a small laugh.
“I’m not a child, you know?” She snorts in response.
“That’s debatable.” I can’t help but shake my hand and laugh again.
Then, it’s time for tunnel vision. To shut everything out until racing is the only thing left in my mind. I’m very good at that usually. At least, I was before a certain brunette with blonde highlights in her hair showed up and now I’m thinking about her. Thinking about winning so I can impress her. Thinking about hugging her after the race. Okay, fine, I’m also thinking about kissing her, but that’s not going to happen while her job forbids it
“Adrian,” Chloe barks. She must have said my name a few times already if her tone is this harsh.
“Sorry,” I say, watching the lights turn on above all of us to signal the start of the formation lap.
All twenty drivers take one lap around the circuit to charge the car batteries, warm up the tires, and take in the track conditions. Easy enough. The hard part comes when the lights go on one by one until all five bulbs are filled with bright LED lights.
Then, we wait, all of us getting tested on our reaction times. Once all five lights turn off at the same time, we’ll start the race. The better you react, the better you get away.
So, no pressure.
My gaze slips to my mirror, watching Gabriel line up in the second-place spot to the right of me and slightly further back.
No matter how often I race, my heart will never not thump harder and harder the closer we get to the start.
A wave of nerves hits me right in the stomach, but I shove it away.
Gabriel is not overtaking me and neither is the rookie in the Grenzenlos behind me. Yes, I’m still aware he isn’t a rookie, but this is only his second year racing and his first with Grenzenlos. He’s a rookie to me, and I’m not going to let a fuckingrookiebeat me, especially not a nepotism baby who got his seat through his daddy being friends with Robert Fuchs.
I smell burning rubber from the tires as we all wait, wait, wait, wait, wait…go!
