by Lauren Asher
My mouth falls open at Noah’s boldness. I fight the urge to bolt from the table and make a run for it, deciding to deal with the consequences of my big mouth. How responsible of me.
Noah’s hand rests on my chair, distracting me from the table, instead choosing to concentrate on how warmth radiates from his body. He pretends I didn’t tell him about this double date. I feel like this is an episode of The Twilight Zone, the strange occurrences just part of the show.
“We’re on a double date.” Liam blushes while rubbing the back of his neck.
“Oh, a double date? Mind if I crash it for a second?” Noah doesn’t mean to ask for permission, seeing as he commandeers the situation. He pulls up an empty seat next to Jax and me. I have a feeling he wants to stay for longer than a moment when he grabs my menu from my hands. My throat bobs as his fingers brush against mine.
I pull away from his touch and rub my temple with my hand, attempting to prevent a tension headache. Could be a good excuse to get out of this situation.
“Seeing as you already are sitting, does it even matter?” Liam fails to hide his annoyance.
My head snaps up and catches his stormy blue eyes. Sophie covers up her laugh with her hand, the muffled sound carrying past her fingers. At least one of us finds this amusing.
“Is Team McCoy trying to snag information from our Bandini ladies?” Noah rests his elbows on the table and places his chin on top of his knuckles. He doesn’t pull off the innocent look well with his wicked gleam and smirk.
I speak up. “Because everything goes back to racing for you. It’s not because they’re interested in hanging out with us outside of a track, right? God forbid that were to happen.” My statement silences the table as everyone stares at me.
Noah’s lips gape before he clears his throat. “I didn’t mean that. I was only joking around…” And there goes another hand through his hair. I gloat at his embarrassment because he deserves it after crashing our date and making dumb assumptions.
“I thought you would be busy since you usually are on Wednesdays. Jax was free and agreed to join. It’s nothing personal.” Liam returns to his usual pacifist self.
Everyone in the racing world is well aware of Noah’s Wednesday ritual. Those days usually include models, fine dining, and an exclusive tour of his bedroom. Every tabloid knows it, and hell, I know it, no matter how much I want to ignore it.
“I would’ve canceled any plans to come. They’re not that important anyway.”
Wow. Way to make any of the girls you sleep with feel special. His wicked Wednesday ritual leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
Noah cocks his head to the side when he catches me scrunching my nose.
Jax and Liam offer him blank looks. They don’t hide how much they want him to leave, but Noah steamrolls along, his presence authoritative.
“Maya, you’re from Spain, right? Do you live near Barcelona?” He acts like we are the only ones at the table, going as far as to turn his back on Jax.
“No, I live in Asturias. It’s up north.” I respond to the whole group, my eyes pleading with Sophie’s, looking for an out. I’d wave my white napkin up in surrender if it meant escaping this situation.
“How is your English so good then?” Sophie finally chimes in. That’s my girl.
I bark out a laugh. “I barely have an accent anymore because I went to an American school.”
“You have a little accent. But it’s cute,” Noah says.
My cheeks warm at his comment. Cute? Since when has that word ever left Noah Slade’s lips before? Sophie’s wide eyes meet mine.
Jax and Liam stare at Noah. Even Noah looks surprised at what came out of his mouth while another hand runs through his hair. Someone should tell him about his noticeable tick because it gives him away.
We continue the conversation like Noah didn’t act extremely out of character. I choose to overlook what he said, preferring my usual ignoring techniques with anything related to Noah. If it makes my heart race and my thighs clench, I pretend it never happened. Works like a charm. At least so far during our time at different Prix stops, except we never find ourselves this close together.
A muscular thigh brushes against mine under the table, his existence made known as a hum of energy courses up my leg. His proximity muddles my brain. I push my thighs together, half to avoid him, half to ease any aches that happen whenever he gets near me.
Every day I convince myself that I don’t need someone like him in my life—a guy who breaks hearts as a side gig. I prefer to keep things simple and avoid problems. Label it a sixth sense, or an in-depth Google search. I still regret that one because nothing good ever comes from checking out famous people online.
We carry on with our dinner. Noah orders something to eat when our appetizers come out. Jax and Liam give up on the double-date idea at this point, filling me with relief.
Liam covers the check at the end of the night. I can only imagine how expensive this place is, even though I ordered something cheap on the menu. Hanging around guys who make more money in a year than I expect to make in a lifetime makes me uncomfortable.
Noah unexpectedly wraps his arm around my waist while we wait for the driver to pick us up at the valet area. My body jolts at the contact of our bodies pressing together. What has gotten into him today? The moment I think I have him all figured out, he does something like this, switching up the game on me.
“Maya and I can ride back together since we’re staying at the same hotel.” His hand possessively splays across my stomach, holding me hostage. I like it as much as I hate it. My body tries to wiggle away from him, but I stop once my ass rubs against his front.
I choose to ignore the bulge I feel pressing against me.
Nope. Not today, Satan. Stop tempting me.
“What a great idea. Can I tag along? I’m staying there too.” Sophie shimmies on over to us, her green eyes humorously gazing at me.
Noah’s arms squeeze me before he lets go. Sophie winks at me, and I’d give her a hug if it didn’t draw attention to us.
Liam chuckles. “Trying to run away from me? This doesn’t count as a date, thanks to Noah and his love for messing shit up. A bet’s a bet. Unless…you want to back out? What did we say was the price for whoever quits? I can’t remember. Maybe we can check your list.”
Uh-oh. Liam doesn’t seem like he will let Sophie off easily. Jax and Noah look confused at the mention of a list, but Sophie’s nostrils flare as she glosses over the information.
“Mm hmm, I don’t need money to keep me honest. I’m no quitter.” She says a quick goodbye before walking toward the street.
“Thanks for dinner. We will have to do this another time.” I give Liam and Jax quick hugs.
“Un-fucking-likely,” Noah says the word low enough for only me to hear. I shake my head and walk away to join Sophie in the car.
This night did not go exactly how I thought it would.
12
Noah
I spend time relaxing on Bandini’s deck after a successful qualifier. Barcelona’s afternoon sun warms my skin as I lounge on a couch overlooking the ocean, blue waves rolling against the sandy coast while birds fly above.
It’s purely coincidental when the Alatorre family shows up on the deck. I take the opportunity to watch Maya and Santiago hang out with their parents, curious to see what their dynamic is like with the people who raised them. Something heavy presses against my lungs at the idea of not having a family supporting me at a race. Must be nice to share the weekend with people you love.
I never had that. My dad usually shows up for the Sunday race and ditches after I place on the podium. He doesn’t care to join me at different events, forgoing a post-race dinner unless he wants something. Manipulative motherfucker. My mother equally disappoints, recently contacting me to hook her up with tickets for her and her friends to see a Prix. The usual shit from them both.
Maya’s mom looks like an older version of her daughter, making it easy to see where Maya
gets her good looks from. Her dad rocks Bandini’s gear and a permanent smile while his gray hair peeks out from underneath a scarlet cap. Their parents seem to be loving the F1 experience.
I find it difficult to ignore the pang of jealousy swirling around in my chest, mixing in with sadness and wistfulness—an unwelcome feeling I want to push away. Maya’s family seems simple yet extremely happy, making it hard to overlook how I grew up with a crappy dad and an absentee mom. And it annoys me because I never wanted for anything except attention, something fundamental yet robbed from me. The Alatorres’ ordinariness and my shitty thoughts put me in a negative mental space.
My scowl lifts to a smile at the sight of Maya coming up to me. Her brown hair bobs in the usual ponytail I love to pull, held up with a scrunchie, along with ripped overalls and a white top. I don’t miss the hint of cleavage. The outfit would look ridiculous on anyone, except Maya’s sensual enough to pull it off. A fucked-up nineties girl grinning at me.
“Hey, want to come and meet my parents? They’ve asked about you a few times, wanting to know who Santi has to compete against every week.” She focuses on her feet, absentmindedly pushing around invisible dirt with her sneaker.
If it puts a smile on your face…sure, why not.
I get up and introduce myself. Her mother pulls me in for a surprise hug, showing me how touchy Spanish people are.
“Maya shares such nice things about you. It was kind of you to help her with her videos.”
Not what I expected to come out of her mouth. Maya says good things? I look over at the girl I can’t get out of my head lately. Her face turns red as she stares at her sneakers again, making my small smile break out into a full-blown grin.
"It’s no problem. I had fun helping her out.”
“She’s lucky to have you around. Especially since she’s all alone when Santi is busy. We tell him he works too hard.”
I doubt her mother would have the same opinions about me if she knew half the thoughts I have about her daughter.
Her dad glares at me like he wants to assess me from the inside out. He acts like he can read the expression on my face, his scrutiny and deep brown eyes making me shift uncomfortably.
“Take care of my little girl.” Hidden meaning fills his statement. I don’t try to get into his daughter’s pants, I just think about it a lot. But I’ve been respectful compared to the way I act with girls I want to fuck. He should be grateful.
Call me an entitled prick. Fuck if I care.
“Santi’s not the one who needs help because he always was our good kid. Maya, on the other hand—” her mother brushes a stray lock of hair out of Maya’s face—“trouble. But the good kind with such a big heart. She’s a little rebellious like her dad.” Maya’s mom smiles up at her husband with love and affection.
I chuckle. “What is the good kind of trouble? I’m curious how I can sell that one to my PR team when I mess up again.”
“She always has good intentions, but they sometimes miss their mark. Overall she’s the best daughter anyone could ask for.” Maya’s mom gazes at me with the warmth only a mother can have.
“Mom,” Maya groans. “Stop talking like I’m not right here.” Her honey-brown eyes look at me for the first time in a while. “Ignore her. She loves telling ridiculous stories.”
“Do you know she used to steal Santi’s kart and ride it around the neighborhood? She was only five years old. Santi exploded when she put a couple of unicorn stickers on the steering wheel.”
I barely contain a laugh as Maya rubs her face, hiding behind small hands.
“Ugh, not a good moment. Santi was mad at me for weeks.” Maya’s lips turn down.
“You liked karting?” I pull on her ponytail to get her attention.
Santi’s eyes narrow in on my hand while her dad scowls at me. Message received.
“I did it a few times on the side, but it was more Santi’s thing. I liked to do whatever he did, including beating boys his age.” She smiles up at me. Damn my chest tightens at her smile, proof of how much of a sucker I am for them lately.
“How about the time she tried to forge her middle-school report card?” Santi fails to control his amusement.
Maya’s cheeks turn into two bright red blobs.
“Maya Alatorre, did you live a life hardened by crime?” I scoff.
“Oh, I remember this one since her mother made me punish her after. Always got stuck disciplining. She actually took her report card out of the mailbox and tried to white-out her bad conduct grade. She sealed the envelope with a steamer before putting it back. If we hadn’t been so angry, we would have been impressed. She cried when I took away her cell phone for a week.” Her dad joins in on the fun.
Maya looks everywhere but at me.
“You guys are literally the worst. Santi, if you keep it up, I’ll tell Mom and Dad about the time you drove their car at fourteen because you wanted to go do donuts outside.”
Oh, shit. The looks on her parents’ faces tell me they don’t know about this story. Maya’s statement shuts up Santiago quicker than I ever could.
He puts his hands up in a mock surrender.
“Truce. No need to fight so dirty.”
The idea of Maya fighting dirty entices me.
Fuck.
I banish those thoughts, choosing to focus on having a normal conversation with my teammate’s parents. We all end up having a good time together until my dad shows up on the deck, sneaky like a snake with enough venom to match. I am surprised he showed up earlier than race day, a rarity that makes me regret skillfully avoiding his phone calls for two days.
The time we spend apart never seems long enough. Cold eyes land on me, two blue orbs as inviting as skinny-dipping in the Arctic Ocean. He keeps his dark hair slicked back and his suit perfectly pressed with not a wrinkle in sight. To others he comes off as welcoming, but his deceptiveness covers up all the darkness simmering beneath his skin.
Maya eyes him curiously. My dad ignores her family, passing by them without a glance. He comes to greet me, giving me a pat on the back, acting happy to see me. Nicholas Slade couldn’t give less of a shit if he tried. But since he cares about a show and his image, my life acts as a side project to keep him busy from decaying during retirement.
He watches Maya’s family suspiciously, paying attention to them for the first time by assessing each of them. Competitors getting along is his worst nightmare. And for a moment I forgot Santiago and I are just that, talking with his family like we don’t have a rivalry.
It felt nice. To be the three of us hanging out with their parents, the Prix on the backburner while they got to know me. Parents who actually seemed curious to ask me questions and learn about the man outside of a Bandini car.
“Son, a second of your time?” The tick in my dad’s jaw tells me everything words won’t.
“I’ll see you all later at the event.” I throw the statement over my shoulder as I follow my dad toward the suites.
“You ignored my calls. I fly all the way out here for you and this is how you treat me? I expect better from my son.”
Right, we both know why he comes out to these events.
I bite back a snarky comment. “I’ve been busy qualifying and getting ready for tomorrow. It’s good that you found me between events.” Lies. But I’ve learned from the biggest fraud of them all.
“Yeah. We need to come up with a plan for tomorrow.”
We enter my private room. My dad settles into one of the couches, a dark cloud against the white walls of the room as he sucks the energy from me. He grabs one of the red pillows and props himself up against it.
“How are you going to go about winning the race?” He jumps into it.
I haven’t seen him in almost a year, and he doesn’t even ask how I am, unsurprising, but still grating on my nerves.
“By racing the best I can?” I meet with strategists and engineers for hours each week to prepare for a Prix. Don’t need his shitty two cents.
�
��It’s Santiago’s home race. That means it’s a big one for him. You should have seen his parade today. Thousands showed up.”
“That’s awesome for him. A home Prix is usually the best for those racers. I can’t wait for the Austin one, to go back to the States and eat Southern food.” My mouth waters at the idea of barbecue food.
“Well, you obviously need to wipe the floor with him tomorrow. There’s nothing worse than losing in your hometown,” my dad sneers.
I struggle to hide my irritation. Racing fuels a passion of mine while easing the edginess inside of me. Yeah, it’s a job, but it’s much more because I enjoy it and compete against the best. My dad sucks the fun and excitement out of anything, making everything a rivalry. No wonder he had no friends back in his day.
“Sure, Dad. I’ll try my best.”
“You better. I’m here and the press will eat that shit up. They love a good father-son moment.” He treats me like a shiny accessory.
“I need to get going. It’s a busy night before the race tomorrow.” I throw him a wave before taking off.
Race day in Barcelona. The crowds bounce around in the stands, charged up with excitement. Machines buzz, drills hum, and computers beep in the pit. Sophie’s dad tests out the team radio in my ear to ensure we have an open line of communication.
I zip up my racing suit and put on my flame-retardant headgear. I look down at my helmet, savoring the moment of representing Bandini’s brand and appeasing my fans. This life is all I know, and it brings me comfort to put on my helmet. Honey, I’m home.
Crew members push my car toward my grid location. Liam has pole position, while I’m second, and Santiago’s third.
Before a race, I spend hours studying the track, making sure I’ve memorized all of the turns. A total of sixty-six laps made up of sixteen turns stand between me and the Spanish Grand Prix’s podium.
The race kicks off with a bang. An American team driver crashes his car into the barrier on the first turn, taking down two other drivers with him. What a shitshow as metal flies around and cars run into one another.