by Lauren Asher
“This is going to be a terrible team radio video. I’ll end up on YouTube, perdóname Mami y Papi. Ignore this.”
Noah speeds up after turning. Good.
“So anyway, please stop distracting me. And quit the seductive laughs too. Did you know this guy agreed to help the girl grow her vlog? He may be part of the reason she has over a million subscribers now. But I don’t think the guy knows he’s stuck with her. Stage-five clinger. She’s already signed a contract with the team to come to the races next year since they want her to film more behind the scenes action to promote the brand. A whole ordeal.”
His voice expresses his surprise. “You didn’t tell me. Congrats, Maya. I’m so proud of you; I knew you could do it. Bandini is lucky to have you working on social media.”
“Sh. This story isn’t about me.” I laugh at his slip up before continuing. “Pretty crazy. Imagine the girl’s surprise that number twenty-eight doesn’t want to drive faster. Take more risks. He took a chance on their relationship, and it all panned out. I wonder if he could do the same thing today?” I imagine fans commenting about how cliché I am on our video. Oh well, I won’t be crying myself to sleep. At least not in that way.
Noah’s deep breathing and gear changes ring through the radio. The roar of the engine excites me. His car accelerates, pushing closer to Liam’s, closing the gap between McCoy and Bandini.
“Pretty sure the girl told the guy that she doesn’t date losers. But I can’t be too sure about that one because I haven’t asked her. But you can never put it past these racing fans, all fun and games until the guy doesn’t end up on the podium. I think girls have a thing for trophies and race suits—a combo deal.”
Noah chuckles into the mic. With only a few laps left to overtake Liam, the Championship is starting to slip from Noah’s fingers.
“But that’s a lie. Because this girl loves the guy. Like the ‘forever and always’ type of love. The ‘kids playing around outside while the parents have a quickie upstairs’ kind of love. Have you heard of that type?”
He stays silent. His rhythmic breathing and the hum of the engine encourage me to continue.
“It’s pretty insane. Can you imagine that kind of love? I can because I experience it. The story doesn’t end with a happily-ever-after because it starts with it. Because they have the rest of their lives to finish their story. Crazy, huh?”
Noah speeds up at a turn, pushing his car to the limit, sparks flying from his rear wing. He overtakes Liam in one of the last corners.
“Great job, babe! That was an amazing one. I knew you could do it.”
“Maya?” his voice rasps.
“Yup?”
“Keep talking. I love hearing your voice.”
Happy to oblige.
43
Noah
I lift the American flag in the air. World. Fucking. Champion.
I can’t thank Maya enough for helping me at the end there. Almost lost my shit behind the wheel, poorly controlled tremors running through my body until she came on the radio. But her voice and words pushed me to the limit and gave me courage.
The crowd wildly jumps around with energy and excitement. I call Maya over from the roped-off VIP section. Security guards let her through, grinning and shaking their heads as she runs up the steps of the stage and launches herself into my arms. The best hello sealed with a kiss. I twirl her around as she giggles, her arms wrapping around my neck while her addicting floral scent invades my nose. Someone passes me the trophy, and I hold it and her in my arms. One of the happiest days of my life.
Our friends shower us with champagne. Maya screams as the cold liquid splashes against us and runs down our bodies. I drop my head back in laughter, guzzling champagne that miraculously makes it into my mouth. Fans scream as I give Maya a mind-numbing kiss that tastes like champagne and happiness.
Amazing how quickly life changes.
I thought winning the World Championship was the best thing, the only goal I had for a long time. Shit, was I wrong. I realize today that the best thing includes winning with your loved ones.
Not my shitty father. But with Maya, my team, and my friends. This is the best feeling ever.
Well, the best for now.
44
Maya
If someone had told me a year ago I’d be standing on the F1 stage, hugging Noah Slade and my brother with each arm, I would have laughed until I cried. My brother stands next to me with the biggest grin on his face after placing third in the entire World Championship. He and Noah shower each other with champagne after winning the Constructors’ Championship together. Old rivals hugging like friends.
Funny how life has a way of working itself out. I joined the F1 schedule because I had nothing going for me, a post-graduate with a trail of failed attempts at jobs, stuck living in my brother’s shadow whether I wanted to be or not.
I can’t help looking over at the man who called dibs on me, the one with wavy dark hair and blue eyes that hypnotize me. A World Champion with a heart of platinum to match the trophy he carries above his head. The same man who says “I love you” instead of “good morning” every day. A self-proclaimed “sappy motherfucker” who begged me to wear his race car number today because he needs to mark me in every single way. A human wrecking ball who came into my life unannounced and smashed through all my expectations, leaving behind rubble, dust, and a fresh start.
But most importantly, Noah Slade, the love of my life.
Epilogue
Maya
One Year Later
Noah and I relax on his balcony, staring out at the Amalfi coast, blue waters glistening under the morning sun. He messes around on his computer while I appreciate the view. I welcome the melodic sound of water splashing against the rugged coast. We hang out in our pajamas, enjoying our coffee—our morning ritual while on break.
A year has passed since Noah won his fourth World Championship. Our team radio from the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix became a viral video on YouTube, fans supporting our relationship immediately. My parents welcomed Noah into our family, taking him in, no longer allowing him to spend time meant for families alone—holidays, birthdays, the works.
F1 still plays a huge part in our lives. I travel around the world with Noah, joining him at every race. My vlog remains popular amongst fans. The Formula Corporation asked me to work with the other phases like F2 and F3, but Noah claims he can’t win without his good-luck charm, threatening to hold me hostage if I skip out on his races.
Salty air hits me in the face, rustling my dark waves.
Did I say how much I love Noah’s house in Italy? Something straight out of a movie.
I scroll through my phone to check morning updates when I get a strange notification. Weird.
I look up into Noah’s blue eyes. “Did you click the wrong date for me to upload my next video? I got a notification that it just went live.”
“I don’t think so. That’s strange.” He shrugs.
My point exactly. He grabs his laptop and places it on the table. A black screen with an odd title plays in front of us, nothing like the uploaded video I had scheduled.
“That’s not it because I picked a different thumbnail. Do you think someone hacked into my account? And what does More to Come even mean? I like to be punny. I’d never come up with something like that.”
He chuckles. “I’m well aware. Before we report it, let’s watch it.”
Noah, always a thinker. Exactly why Bandini pays him the big bucks.
The video starts up with a short clip of me at Santi’s first Bandini race in Australia. Someone took a video of me giving Noah a death stare. How embarrassing, but appropriate for how I felt about him at the time.
“Oh my God. Who would even upload this? Look at how I’m staring at you. And why were you laughing behind my back?” How interesting, Noah checking me out on day one. What a player.
The scene changes before Noah gives me an answer. This time a shot of us at a press conference plays. Noah
grins at me while I bob my head, making fun of one of the reporters. He barks out a laugh when I roll my eyes. Liam and Santiago glance at him while reporters look around, wondering what made Noah react the way he did.
How cute of him to look at me like that. I had no idea he checked me out that much, hanging onto whatever dumb thing I’d do next. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.
Next scene plays, a clip from the vlog I did with Noah and his car. He sits near the cockpit while I ask him a bunch of questions. My heart warms at the clip, enjoying how he glances at me with an enamored look on his face. Either that or he looks like he wants to take my clothes off. A true toss-up. I never looked at the video this closely, not checking for signs of Noah liking me. Noah gives me a beaming smile when I laugh and talk into the camera. He barely pays attention, his eyes remaining on me.
My stomach flutters at the clip. I feel off-balance, being hit with many emotions at once—happiness and nostalgia mixed together.
I have an idea of who created this More to Come video. The big guy next to me remains suspiciously quiet, not one peep coming from his seductive lips. But I don’t pause the video because questions would ruin the moment.
Another video starts, this time of the podium when Santiago won the Grand Prix in Spain. Noah ignores everything happening on the stage. He gazes off to the side, the camera panning off to find what he smiles at, catching me with my back turned, hugging my parents. The Spanish flag is draped over me as I jump up and down.
My heart beats rapidly, my throat closing up, unable to get any words out. Suppressed happy tears cloud my vision. Noah was always into me, even when I thought he was only interested in hooking up, but his eyes betray the way he feels. It’s a sucker punch right in the feels.
Various video clips play, including one of me whistling at Noah as he walks down the runway in Monaco. I embarrassingly yell how I’d like to take his tux off. He winks at me, but I miss it because Sophie distracts me by covering my mouth with her hands. I’d die of embarrassment if Noah didn’t squeeze my hand in a silent way of telling me he still finds me cute. Not sure how this video saw the light of day or how Noah got it in the first place. Sneaky man.
Another plays of me dancing up on the podium after the kart race Noah planned. My scream shakes the computer’s speakers as Noah sprays me with champagne like a real F1 racer, even making me chug straight from the bottle. Peer pressure is a thing. I dance around on the small step, my arms thrown up in the air. Noah laughs along with me before he winks to the camera. Ovaries, meet your master.
His thoughtfulness makes me want to cuddle up to him and never let go. Put a “do not disturb” sign on our front door, sealing us off from the public for an unforeseeable lifetime.
The camera catches him smiling wide as he carries me over his shoulder to the car. Claps for the cameraman because he conducts a perfectly executed zoom of Noah smacking my ass. A+ filmography.
Damn Noah and all his cuteness. My throat feels like I swallowed a rock, unable to say much as I watch all of our memories. Why does he have to be such a sappy yet seductive man?
Tears escape my eyes. Noah occasionally rubs them away with his thumb, my skin heating up at his touch.
He stays silent. The whole thing almost feels like too much. Almost being the keyword since I need to lap up this romantic display and enjoy every second. Duh. I’ll replay this video a hundred times—to my children, my grandchildren, my next-door neighbor. Everyone in walking distance.
A clip plays of me screaming for dear life while he drives the atrocious green Bandini car. He stares at me and laughs while one hand turns the steering wheel, our car drifting as I grip onto him like a lifeline. Must have blacked out because I don’t remember that.
A short scene of my Tequila Talks episode plays. Noah answers the question I ask about his dream girl, but he intensely gazes at me while he responds. I stare straight at the tequila bottle and pick at the label instead of meeting his eyes.
I swear my heart has never beat this fast, questioning another cardiac arrest. A swirl of emotions churns inside of me: happiness, excitement, thankfulness. A whole freaking spectrum.
The screen shows a film from a Brazilian fan based on the terrible quality and backdrop. I crack up while walking up the stairs to the Christ statue. Noah trails behind me, alternating between checking out my ass and looking up at the sky like it can answer his prayers. No such luck though because he’s stuck with me.
Sappiness leaks out of me, along with my tears. “Die a Happy Man” plays low in the background over the part where Noah twirls me around the air after winning the World Championship. Our smiles mimic each other. A beautiful mess surrounds us, with champagne splashing everywhere and confetti launchers exploding on the stage.
I love this cocky, self-assured, yet equally selfless and loving man. No other can ever replace him. I never thought it was possible to love someone like this. Unyielding passion and endless appreciation. Like he hangs the moon before dancing with me under it. Noah never letting a day go by where he doesn’t tell or show me how he loves me. A broken masterpiece no longer defined by his past.
Music cuts out to a black screen. I wipe the tears from my face and look over at Noah.
Except he isn’t in his chair anymore.
He looks up at me with the smirk I love, while he’s down on one knee, holding a ring box.
THE END
COLLIDED coming May 2020!
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Acknowledgements
Thank you to everyone who read my debut novel. I am grateful for the bloggers and readers who gave my work a chance. You deserve your own champagne shower.
Mr. Smith – I am appreciative of your endless support, including the times you forced me out of my house to eat and socialize. Your patience, help, and positive words pushed me to believe in myself and pursue this dream.
Julie – You welcomed me into the book world with warmth and kindness, and I can’t express my gratitude enough. You’re a fantastic individual who has been an integral part of this process. Thank you!
To my beta readers – Thanks for giving my F1 world a chance. With your feedback and comments, Throttled became everything it is today. I am forever grateful!
To everyone else who helped me during this process – Thank you from the bottom of my heart! Without you, none of this would be possible.