by J. Lea
“I’m happy with second position, even though I could’ve turned some laps better which would guarantee me the best time. My biggest competitor at this moment is Gonzales. It all depends on tomorrow’s race who will bring home the cup, but I’ll do my best to ride the race without any mistakes.”
Turning off the TV, I lean back and sigh. “I can’t believe it’s already the final race of the season. It all went by so fast. But, to be honest, some time off from all this media pomp that follows the races will be great for me.”
“I know what you’re saying, mate. Debbie and I can’t wait to go home. I think she’s even more tired than I am, and I can’t wait to spend more quality time with her and spoil her rotten.” We finish our beers, talk for a while, and then Mike goes to see Debbie and I go to bed.
Ella
“How come you’ve changed your mind?” Sophie asks, after I tell her I’m going with her to the Grand Prix. Today is our final day here, we’re leaving tomorrow. I had a lot of time to think by the pool. Sophie has done so much for me and it’s time to make it up to her. I’ll survive one race. I just want us to hang out together.
I shrug. “This is our last day here, I just want to spend it with you. I know going to the race means a lot to you, so I’ll just have to suck it up,” I give her a faint smile.
“Thank you,” she says as we climb into the taxi. The circuit is approximately 6 miles away from our hotel, so we had to call one. When the taxi driver drops us off at our destination, we head toward the entrance of the giant circuit. A huge group of people has already gathered here, the majority are women. Sophie shows our tickets, then we’re directed toward the VIP section.
We’re sitting in the grandstand that overlooks the start-finish line. There’s still half an hour until the beginning of the race, so we have time to observe the happenings around us. I see a lot of people on the track, from racers and track employees to paddock girls and a few mechanics. The place is also swarming with members of press. I notice the motorcycles all have some kind of a fabric on the wheels, and it’s interesting to watch the racers. They seem relaxed, laughing, drinking from their bottles from time to time. Two half-naked paddock girls are standing next to each racer. I shake my head. What’s with sports and naked women?
“So, whom are we cheering for?” I ask Sophie. I know Josh watched every race if he was home, but I never asked him what team he was a fan of. He always mentioned some guy named Jake, but I unfortunately forgot his last name.
“D’oh, Honda. I had the privilege of meeting both racers from the team. I always knew they were good-looking, but, girl, they are even hotter in person, mmm.” She licks her lips and focuses her gaze on the racers. “There,” she points to the second starting position on the grid where a big red motorcycle with some sponsor stickers on it is parked. Its owner is standing beside it, his team member next to him. I nod. I can’t see the racers well since too many people are gathered around them.
The race soon begins, and I watch the racers speeding along the track and overtaking each other. The roar of the bikes fills the whole circuit. In the ninth lap, one of the bikes slips as the racer enters a corner. He tries to regain his control over the bike, but he fails. He’s catapulted onto the track, and slides forward on the asphalt. Other racers skillfully race past him and he finally stops as he hits the safety barrier. Clapping both my hands over my mouth, I stand up, worried. Sophie grabs my elbow comfortingly, and I sit back down.
“He’s fine,” she assures me, and I’m instantly reminded why I was so against coming to the race. Luckily, the racer slowly gets on his legs and he looks like he’s not hurt. I swallow, take a few deep breaths, and try to follow the race again. Sophie is cheering like crazy because one of the racers from her favorite team is in the lead. I see it’s that Jake guy Josh kept mentioning.
Jake Burns.
He is zipping around the corners, and handling his bike like a pro he is. His helmet is the same gaudy color as his bike so he’s not hard to miss. On the back of Jake’s racing suit, a little above his butt, the lettering spells ‘The Beast’.
The checkered flag announces the end of the race. Jake comes in first, Spaniard Alejandro Gonzales is second and Czech racer Adam Barta comes in third. I clap for the three of them. I don’t have a clue whom is who anyway. Sophie is excitedly jumping up and down beside me. The racers drive into their team’s pit-boxes where the winner is congratulated by his team and then raised high into the air on their shoulders.
“Wasn’t it awesome? I could watch a race like this every day, but I’m afraid my heart would give out,” Sophie shakes her head and immediately fishes her phone out of her pocket to call Matt. I nod and go search for a toilet since I desperately need to pee. I walk past the winning podium where the top three were just awarded their trophies. The smell of champagne they sprayed on the podium is still lingering in the air. I admit it looked fun as they poured the champagne all over the podium. I open the door I assume is going to lead me to the toilet and walk down the stairs toward a long hallway. “I have a suspicion I’ll sooner pee my pants than find a toilet around here,” I mutter to myself, shaking my head. After a couple of minutes, I’m about to give up when I see a man coming toward me. I quickly approach him to ask for directions. In his racing jumpsuit and motorcycle boots he looks like he belongs to one of the racing teams.
“Excuse me, Sir,” I call out to get his attention. He turns my way.
“Sir?” he gives me a pointed look. “I’m far from a Sir, babe.”
I wince and unconsciously take a step back. I guess he’s having a bad day or something.
“Are you lost? This area is for employees only,” he says and runs his eyes down my body and back up again. He scratches his smooth chin and finally lifts his gaze to catch mine. His eyes soften. Right away, I notice his beautiful eyes that are blue with tiny specks of gray. I feel as if I saw them before. And then I remember—the jogger I saw on Friday morning. I almost got lost in his mesmerizing eyes. Not the kind of eyes you can easily forget.
“I’m searching for a bathroom. Could you please point me to the right direction?” I shift uncomfortably.
“You’ll have to go back,” his voice is friendlier. “Up the stairs and left, right by the entrance.”
“Thank you very much,” I give him an honest smile, and run up the stairs. When I’m done, I wash my hands and go find Sophie, who is standing by a coffee stand, flicking through the pictures on her camera.
“There you are,” she calls to me. “Let’s go to where all the fun is.” She hands me a cup of coffee she just bought, winks at me, and drags me next to the track. All the racers are gathered there, talking to the press, paddock girls, and the members of their team. As we’re approaching them, Sophie suddenly squeezes my wrist and stops in her tracks.
“What?” I raise my brow in question. She points her head to Honda’s team. I remembered the color of their motorcycles so I know it’s Honda, Sophie’s favorite team. We’re wearing our VIP passes around our necks, so everyone knows we are allowed to be here. One of the racers is standing with his back to us and is surrounded by three reporters with their microphones in his face. I see ‘The Beast’ written on the back of the racer’s suit. I pull Sophie by her sleeve. “Why do they call him beast?”
She rolls her eyes. “You really are clueless.” I shrug. “When he started racing, he was invincible in his class. The crowds adored him and his opponents respected him. Then he got the chance to compete in premier class, and made quite an impression in the first race. He surprised everyone when he won. They said he destroyed his opponents like a beast, and the name stuck.”
Sophie squeezes my arm, and takes me to the other racer from Honda’s team. Thankfully, a few other VIP guests come with us because I would be uncomfortable if it was only Sophie and I. Females in our group are squealing in excitement, making me want to cover my ears with my hands for being so loud.
“This is Mike Jones,” Sophie points to the racer.
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br /> “And what’s so special about him that all the women are about to drop their panties for?”
“Oh, girl, what planet have you been living on lately? Come here, you’ll see quickly.” She drags me to the group of women that are already surrounding Mike.
“What’s your name, sugar?” Mike asks, with his sexy Australian accent, one of the women that is holding her arm out for him to sign, and winks at her. Okay, I get it. It’s his accent that makes women lose their minds. While he’s signing autographs, I take a closer look at him. He has a buzz cut, strong cheekbones, and pretty blue eyes. His wide eyebrows make him look even more attractive. I admit he’s good looking, but I don’t know why women are losing their heads around him. For God’s sake, he’s just a man. Sophie takes the opportunity and talks with him for a few minutes. I more or less stand there and nod every once in a while. I don’t know anything about motorcycling, so I keep my mouth shut rather to embarrass myself with saying something stupid. Soon, the other racer from his team joins Mike. As he pats Mike on the shoulder, I notice it’s no one other than the man from the hallway.
Jake.
Shit, that’s why he was so harsh when he found me wandering around the halls. He must have thought I was one of the crazy groupies. I shake my head, and Sophie interrupts my inner monologue by elbowing me in the ribs.
“Isn’t he gorgeous?” she whispers in my ear.
“He’s okay,” I shrug, and try to appear unaffected, even though he already caught my attention a while ago. He’s so much more than just ‘okay’. He’s attractive, sexy, exuding raw power, self-confidence, and energy that cannot be missed. I didn’t have the chance to take a better look at him earlier due to the badly illuminated hall. Jake removes his baseball cap for a second to scratch his scalp, and I can finally see his hair is brown. Short at the sides and a little longer on the top, it’s playfully messy if he runs his hand through it. Compared to my measly height of 5’2, he is tall, a head and a half taller than me. And he has a piercing in his eyebrow.
Sophie looks at me like I’m an alien. “Are you serious? If I didn’t have Matt, I’d definitely want this piece of heaven all to myself.”
She says the last part of the sentence loud enough for Jake to hear her. Turning his head toward us, he gives us a wide grin and winks at us. He’s signing some fan’s arm. He fixes his cap, which has a ton of sponsors’ logos printed on it.
“See, women melt when he smiles,” she sighs, and Jake is still watching us. I become a little uncomfortable, so I turn away and take a look around myself. When will I ever get another golden opportunity like this to see the track and all the commotion up close? I notice every team is in their corner, surrounded by fans and reporters. The paddock girls are still walking around half naked, and men are following them with their gazes. Sophie abandons me again, I can see her talking to one of the VIP visitors.
“You,” I hear a strong voice behind me, so I turn. I give Jake a questioning look, and then look around me to check if I hear him correctly or if he was saying that to somebody else. Jake strides toward me with confidence and stops right before me. I put my index finger to my chest, and look at him with raised eyebrows. He nods.
“Um, yes?” I ask.
“You’re the one from the hallway a few minutes ago,” he says. I nod. “And from the beach.” I’m surprised he remembers me.
“I’m sorry. You probably thought I was one of your fans, but I was just looking for a toilet. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Still watching me without saying a word, he nods.
“What? Do I have something on my face?” I ask when he keeps staring at me. Blushing, I quickly wipe my hand across my mouth. Just like me. Sophie and I had a coffee with chocolate earlier, it wouldn’t surprise me if I still had some chocolate on my lips. He chuckles, and his eyes sparkle.
“You had no idea who I was, huh?” My cheeks turn red again. I’m probably the only person on the planet who doesn’t know whom Jake Burns is. Well, who didn’t know who Jake Burns was. I nod.
“I’m sorry.” It sounds more like a question. I blush in three hundred shades of red. “I don’t follow motorcycling. I’m only here because of my friend,” I point my finger toward Sophie, who is still in a middle of a lively conversation with the other fans. “This was actually my first race I’ve been to.” Can someone please stop me? When I’m nervous, I usually start babbling and can’t seem to stop.
“So?” he asks.
“So, what?”
“Did you like it?”
“Um...” I fall silent for a moment. “I’m not a big fan of motorcycles.” I look down. “I mean... You do laps around the track. What’s the point in this? ... Okay, someone please shut me up,” I sigh and laugh. “I’m sorry.” I drop my gaze to the ground, waiting for the earth to open up and swallow me whole.
“It’s okay, I like people who have their own opinions. Usually, girls are sucking up to me and saying how much they love this sport... You’re honest, I like that.”
“Hey, mate,” Mike joins us, throws his arm around Jake’s shoulders and winks at me. “Duty calls.”
“Go ahead, I have to find my friend anyway. I hope she didn’t run off with one of the racers,” I try to joke, but I’m sure I’m far from funny.
“See you around,” Jake says. He and Mike start walking away, but Jake’s gaze doesn’t leave me. I’m the one to break our staring contest, when I head toward Sophie.
“Oh, Ella! Let me introduce you to Caroline, John, and Thomas.” We shake hands, and Sophie continues. “They are also fans of Honda, but their favorite team is Ducati. This is the seventh race they’ve been to.”
“Where are you from?” I ask them. Their accent tells me they are not American.
“England,” they all respond simultaneously.
Jake
Victory.
Damn, I can hardly believe I won, that I’m the MotoGP World Champion the second year in the row. Never in my wildest dreams have I imagined it was going to turn out this way.
First, the Czech racer Barta, who came in third, is called to the winning podium. Next is Gonzales, the Spanish racer, who finished second. In the end, they call out my name. Arms high in the air, I climb the winning podium, and wave to my fans. I hear whistling and cheering as I stand on the top. Right after I receive a big trophy, I’m doused with champagne. Some of it even lands in the trophy, which I happily drink. Next is the award ceremony for Premier Class World Championship. The order here is a little different, but I’m still crowned champion. After the ceremony, I head to the locker room to grab my phone because I’m sure my family has left a million messages. I also need to change since I’m drenched in champagne.
“Hey, Sarah,” I say to my sister when she answers her phone. I hear my parents’ neighbors’ voices on the other side of the line, cheering wildly.
“Jake, you were awesome out there. Congrats, that was a hell of a race. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, I can hardly believe myself that I’m the world champion.” I actually have my father to thank for everything. He was the one who sort of pushed me into this sport. He’s always been a big fan of motorcycling. He bought me my first motorcycle when I was 14, and I haven’t separated from it ever since. I gradually started competing. First in local races, I also tried myself in motocross, but motorcycling is my true passion and calling.
“Everybody says hi and we can’t wait to see you. When are you flying home?”
“I’m not sure yet, probably next week. I have a million things to do before I take a break. I’ll call you again later, okay?” I head down the hall back to the track.
“Great, congrats again. Now, go. I know you’re busy.”
“Okay, I’ll see you,” I reply and put the phone in the pocket of my racing suit. As I glance back up, I spot a girl walking toward me. Damn, one of the groupies again. How the hell did she manage to get inside? A sweet voice interrupts my inner monologue.
“Excuse me, Sir.”
>
I frown. Who is she calling Sir? “Sir? I’m far from a Sir, babe.” I can see the girl is uncomfortable and she takes a step back. “Are you lost? This area is for employees only,” I say, and quickly check her out. She’s smoking hot. Who wouldn’t want to feast their eyes on her? Scratching my chin in thought, I lock my gaze with hers. It suddenly hits me. It’s the girl from the beach. I’ll never forget her sad, beautiful eyes. And right now, they’re not filled with desire, she’s not smiling seductively like the other girls who want to get me into their bed. No, she’s watching me cautiously, and I suddenly want to know more about her. I wonder if she remembers me from the other day.
“I’m searching for a bathroom. Could you please point me to the right direction?” she asks, and I eye her suspiciously. She seems genuine.
“You’ll have to go back,” I soften my voice. “Up the stairs and left, right by the entrance.” She thanks me, and flashes me one of the most beautiful smiles I’ve ever seen. As I watch her hurry away, I return to the track because there are some VIP visitors out there that I have to greet. I was told we would have to photograph with them and answer a few of their questions.
After a quick interview with the press, I head to the VIP crowd. Everybody is gathered around Mike, who is already handing out his autographs. I suddenly hear some girl talking about wanting me all to herself if she didn’t have a boyfriend. Nothing new. I hear stuff like that on daily basis. I wonder what she looks like, so I briefly turn around. Two girls are staring at me, but I only notice an already familiar pair of eyes—it’s the girl from the hallway. I flash them my I-overheard-you-talking-about-me grin, and fix my baseball cap. I can’t wait to take it off, but for now, it has to remain on my head because of the sponsors. When I see her redheaded friend has left her, I approach the mysterious girl from the hallway. I have to see what is that magnetic force that keeps pulling me to her. I’m not saying she’s not sexy, hell, she’s gorgeous, but there’s also something else that attracts me to her, her curiosity, innocence, vulnerability, and her eyes. I ask her what she thought of the game and her answer surprises me. Girls mostly give me their sugar-coated lines like how they are totally in love with this sport and how they’re impressed by my amazing skills. But she outright tells me she doesn’t like motorcycling, heck, she even apologizes. I like her honesty and her shyness. Right before I can ask her what her name is, Mike approaches, and reminds me we still have a ton of things to do. I swear under my breath, and with a heavy heart, I have to leave the mysterious girl’s side.