He should be focused on his race weekend, not me, but that’s not the type of man he is. No, he’s the type of guy to look over his shoulder to smile at me again, even though he’s now getting yelled at by Daniel to hurry up.
Gabriel and I have a fun time working together.
He shares his routines and rituals with me and even draws me a Formula One car during his break. I take a few photos of him and the team, just like I did last time, and eventually, I sit to write down all of my thoughts. Hector, his performance coach, takes the seat in front of me and hands me a cup of non-caffeinated tea. This is the third time today that someone from Gabriel’s team has randomly given me something to eat or drink, which must have everything to do with Adrian.
“Your father is Robert Fuchs, isn’t he?” Hector asks. I force a smile before taking a sip of the beverage he brought me.
“Yes. Have you met him?” I don’t know how he found out about my relation to the great Robert Fuchs of Formula One since I make sure to introduce myself with my first name and never mention my father in conversations. I want to make a name for myself in this sport and not because of Papa. If we already have to share it, I want to be known as a great journalist, not someone’s daughter.
Or someone’s girlfriend.
Hector tells me all about meeting my father, one of the kindest people in the world according to him, and I muster a smile while I listen. I love my father, but there is a limit to how many times I can hear Hector say how great he is. That man has enough flaws they will never know about, like forgetting about his children’s existence when he’s gone to work. I wouldn’t dream of telling Hector about that, but it lingers in my head while the performance coach speaks.
Luckily, he gets up to check on Gabriel a few minutes later. I stand up as well, moving around to stretch my legs. It also allows me to breathe better in this ridiculous top.
All of a sudden, a group of people hurry past me and into the room, filling it until we’re all squished together. They are staring at the monitors, but I’m too far in the back now to see what’s going on. I attempt to make my way out of the crowd, but I’m being shoved against people, unable to escape.
The air becomes thick, and my heart starts to race. Anxiety and this ridiculous shirt cut off my air even more until the atmosphere around me becomes unbearable. I try to breathe and slow my heart rate, trying to ignore the claustrophobic feeling that wraps around my throat, but then someone pushes past my right shoulder, causing a horrible pain to shoot through my arm that soon spreads through my whole body.
I can’t breathe.
Pain makes my eyes sting with tears.
Oh my God, I can’t breathe.
I can’t scream for help.
I can’t do anything.
My hand moves onto my chest while I choke for air.
I start to hyperventilate, my vision blurring.
I manage to push past a few people, the exit out of this maze somehow too complex for my anxiety-ridden brain to figure out.
Fingers wrap around my wrist and pull me out of the crowd. They bring me all the way into a separate room where I’m still not able to catch my breath. It feels like the top is restricting my chest. I reach for the zipper in the back when Adrian appears in front of me.
My entire body is trembling from my anxiety, tears streaming down my face. I sink to the ground, my legs shaking too hard for me to keep standing
“Nevaeh, tell me what to do,” he says and drops to his knees in front of me, so I point to my shirt.
“I can’t breathe,” I manage to croak out while my hands tug on the neckline. “Take it off,” I beg, his hands moving onto the back a second later.
He fumbles with the zipper for a moment before he groans and then rips the shirt apart. I let out a gasp and remove it from my chest, sucking in several deep breaths.
Adrian pulls me into a hug, and I sigh into his chest as his familiar cologne fills my nose. He falls backward onto his ass with me still in his arms, making me straddle his lap while my head tries to catch up with the present.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he murmurs into my ear, stroking a hand down my back.
I take my time, deep breaths in, holding them, and then letting them out.
Over and over.
My breathing slows and my anxiety subsides a little, giving me the chance to acknowledge that I’m almost half-naked with my chest pressed against his.
“Out,” I hear Adrian bark at someone after a while of us staying on the floor.
His hands are still caressing my back while mine rest between us and against his chest. My face is nuzzled into the crook of his neck.
