Game on, Love (Pitch and Pits #1)

18

Raina

THE RAIN STREAKED DOWN the window, calming my nerves. My fingers traced the top of my mug as I waited for qualifying to begin. Oliver was lying down on the couch opposite me, his eyes closed, and I followed his sharp jawline with my eyes. He looked so at ease, his breathing even as the cushions behind him shifted as he sank back further.

I wasn’t supposed to like him this much, but that decision was no longer mine. That much was clear. It wasn’t the fact that he’d said the right things or the fact that he was ready to do things slowly, but it was the fact that he made me feel understood without me ever having to explain it.

His dark hair was unruly like he’d run his fingers through them multiple times, and the urge to do the same with my fingers grew by the second.

“You’re staring,” His eyes were still closed, but when the corners of his lips turned up, I realised he’d been aware of my stare for a while.

“Just entertaining myself while we wait,” I replied, unbothered that he’d called me out. “And since you’d rather lie back and sleep, I’m making do.”

He opened his eyes and narrowed them in my direction. “Hold on, this is not on me. I tried to make conversation, but you have the most selective hearing in the world when you’re writing, and a guy can only take so much.”

“I was prepping for the session,” I shrugged, glancing down at the notes in front of me that covered the data from last year and free practice sessions. It was never as reliable because so many teams deliberately sandbagged their performance in an effort to not show their advantage, but there was still importance to it, and it gave a starting point when building the articles and analysing track changes. Plus, working from home meant that I had to keep up with any new developments using social media or live sessions, which wasn’t ideal. “And I thought you said you were patient.”

He leaned on his forearm before wrapping his fist on my ankle and raising his eyebrow.

“Don’t you dare,” I warned.

“Take back your words, and I won’t.”

“What is it with you and my words?”

He tugged on my ankle gently. “Take it back.”

“Oh my god! Okay, I take it back.” I relaxed as he shot me a smug grin. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from smiling.

“So, when exactly does this get interesting?” He mocked, his hand still resting on my ankles, and I couldn’t help it; I took the pillow next to me and threw it across. A laugh flew out of me as it hit him square in the face. He looked at me with surprise, and instantly, I pulled back my legs, crisscrossing them. “You didn’t.”

“Was I this much of a jerk when you were teaching me about the art of sitting around between your innings and overs?” I asked, and he rolled his eyes. “You only have this so-called patience because it can sometimes take you up to 5 days to finish a match.”

“First of all, Ouch. Test Matches are one of the most beautiful things about cricket,” He placed a hand on his heart, and I sighed. “Secondly, I thought I was slowly dragging you to the dark side.”

“There is nothing beautiful about sitting in the sun all day and occasionally hitting a ball. At least, you can rely on Formula One to be fast-paced.”

“You call going around the circles for two hours fast-paced?”

“Circles? This is not Indy-car.”

“I have no clue what that is.”

“How are you living with a Formula One Champion, and are you still this uncultured?”

“How are you related to not one but two well-known cricketers and still somehow managed to avoid the entire sport for most of your life?”

I faltered, trying my best to cover my discomfort. “It’s called self-preservation.”

He frowned, not expecting that response, but the commentator’s voice pulled both of our attention towards the screen as the clock began the countdown. “It started, right? Why aren’t they leaving the Pits?”

“They usually like to wait a couple of minutes, edging on the hope that someone will go out first as with each lap, the track improves, and they want to use less of their tyres and still get the advantage,” I replied, looking at him and he nodded, his eyes still on the screen.

“So, the grid is like our batting order, yeah?” He asked, and I blinked, taken aback by the comparison, but something in my heart fluttered at his effort.

“It’s similar. In a squad, you’d base off the order with strategy, and it can remain the same for the rest of the time, or depending on the type of other players you get over the period of time or depending on the bowler they send, you can still change the order mid-game. But Qualifying has a lot of unknowns to it. You could be in the fastest car on the grid, but if you go out at the wrong time, have an issue with your car mid-lap or make a mistake, or someone in front of you has an issue can cause you to perform lower than expected. And instead of only two batters on the field, they all start together.”

“Sounds chaotic.”

“It is, but it’s a beautiful chaos.”

Oliver stared at me, and I only just realised he was wearing a smile. “You really love this, don’t you?”

“I do,” I exhaled before turning to the screen. One by one, cars left their garages and on to the track. My eyes were focused on only one. Vedant left the pits, and I looked back at Oliver. “Ever since the first time my mum took me to one Vedant’s go-kart race, I’ve loved every second of it. I couldn’t even tell you if it was because I was out with them, or because I saw my brother win, or just the pure thrill of watching them all race. I just did, and now it’s both my escape and my life.”

He was watching me with a rare expression, the one that made me feel the essence of it from the top of my head, to the tip of my toes. In that moment, I realised how much I loved sharing parts of myself with him. He always watched me with such sincerity, almost as if he was surprised that I was finally trusting him with something, even when it was a small detail but always touched at the same time.

“I get that,” He replied after a moment, and I nodded. We stared at each other for another moment before he tapped the side of my ankle and said. “Alright, show me your world of chaos.”

I want to.

I turned my gaze to the screen, and even though I tried the hardest to ignore it, the voice in my head remained because even though he had meant F1, there was a part of me that voiced it and wanted him to be a part of the rest of it too.

Oliver

THE SCREEN GLOWED IN front of us, but my eyes were fixed on her. The way the tip of her tongue stuck out—something she probably didn’t even realise she did—when she was focusing, the way she held her breath when a session was about to end or how she crossed her fingers when Vedant was on a hot lap. I wasn’t going to point any of them out either, too afraid of making her self-conscious and taking the chance from me to see her like this, but I would happily steal those moments for myself and keep them in a place in my mind.

Safe, like a secret. But it won’t be the first one of the night either.

The truth was, I wasn’t as clueless as she’d like to believe when it came to Formula One. I think it was two nights after Vedant moved in that he cracked, calling it downright outrageous that I didn’t know anything about F1, so he gave me a crash course of his own, enough that I understood what was happening during the race, and enough so I could visit the track to watch him race live.

That was three years ago, and since then, I’d gone to Silverstone twice. So, yes, I had lied to spend time with her, but it was a while lie, considering I really had zero clue about how they actually set the grid and the pure data and strategy that went behind each decision, something as small as choosing the tyre type during qualifying. Though, I doubt she would consider it a small decision.

We were in the middle of the break, waiting for Q3 to begin, and it looked like she was happy with her notes when she looked in my direction.

“You’re staring.”

“Just trying to entertain myself.” I winked, making her roll her eyes, though I caught the smile before she bit her lip and hid it.

“So, what do you think so far?”

“It’s much more analytical than I imagined,”

“And a lot less driving around in circles?” She joked, leaning back in her seat, and I chuckled.

“No… more like noodles.”

She groaned, shaking her head. “Please let me be there if you ever say that to Vedant.”

“Deal,” I grinned.

The screen was back to qualifying, but by now, I knew I had a couple more minutes in hand before I lost her attention. “How come you’re not at the track this weekend?”

She shrugged. “There are a couple of us who travel to the track, but we like to rotate between us. This way, we each get to travel, and it keeps the content and perspective fresh. Too much of the same can be a bit boring sometimes. Plus, even though I get first dibs on a lot of the decisions with both my role level and my contract, I like to give them the option to go for the ones closer to us so it’s not that expensive for them, and well, it’s not like I need to factor in that.”

“But you do it, anyway. Even if it’s not for you, you do it for them.”

Her gaze was distant, but it still lingered on me before she turned back to the screen.

“Are there still any you’re going to?”

“Yeah, I’m going to Austin in two weeks, and then the season Finale in Abu Dhabi, which is the first week of December.”

“That’s not too bad.”

“Yeah…”

I couldn’t tell if she trailed off because I’d lost her to Formula One or to the thought of actually losing the sport. The impulse to bring it up waved over me, but something about how rigid she’d gotten stopped me.

I barely focused on the stream in front of me. Vedant had qualified P3, and by Raina’s reaction, it wasn’t too bad, but it wasn’t ideal either. However, I saw a small flicker in her eyes when Axel got given the pole position award, and this time, when the urge to ask came over me, I didn’t stop myself.

But I also knew I didn’t want another meeting with the pillow next to her, so I waited until she finished her notes.

“Done for the night?” I asked, trying to find a way to ease my question into the conversation.

“I wish. I’ve got to write all of these notes into something legible and publish it as soon as possible, and after that, there’s a wine glass with my name on it.” She sighed as though that was the thing getting her through the idea of working late at night before she met my eyes. “Why?”

My lips were formed in a thin line, but I knew being honest about this was the only option with her. “I had a question, and I was wondering when it would be the right time to ask it.”

Her back straightened in awareness. “Oh? What about?”

“It’s not about your brothers.” Although, something told me she wouldn’t be pleased with the alternative either. “It’s about Axel.”

“Oh.” She blinked before her face scrunched up in an adorable way. “What about Axel?”

“Just wondering how you two are so close, considering they are rivals,” I pointed to the screen with my eyes, and she hesitated as if unsure what to say.

“I know, but they used to be best friends growing up, and I spent a lot of time with them.” Her fingers played with the edge of her hair, and I noticed the anxiety straight away. “When I moved back and started working at NexGen on F1, he was the first one to really help me settle back properly, and he never asked why I went away or why we stopped talking. He didn’t let the sourness of their relationship affect ours. From my first media day, he has helped me with showing a lot of behind the scenes—for my vlogs but also for work—which has impacted my journey in such a positive way that it felt like we’d never really stopped being friends.”

I couldn’t decide if I was jealous of the bond they shared or thankful that he had helped her make her own space in the world she loved so deeply, so I stayed silent. But she must’ve seen it on my face, because her eyes glimmered with mischievousness—like she was deciding on teasing me. “Why? Are you jealous, King?”

The way she’d said it, like it rolled off her lips perfectly, made me still. I wasn’t sure if she even realised it, but she’d yet to say my name, at least to my face. I could tell in the beginning it was a way to keep the distance between us, but somewhere along the lines, I knew she’d started to enjoy it, so I decided to have some fun of my own.

“Yes,” I replied, my eyes falling to her parting lips before meeting her eyes again. “He got to have a part of you that I probably never will.”

Her breath hitched as though trying to find something to anchor herself to, but I wasn’t done. “Is he your best friend?”

She looked away at that, her eyes clouded with something strong. “My mum was my best friend, the one person I could go for anything. After she passed away, for a while, I just couldn’t bring myself to turn to someone that way. Now, I just have certain friends I go to for certain things. Not someone I could just tell all the random details of my life to… I don’t know if that makes sense.”

“It makes perfect sense.” It did. Even though Rihaan was my best friend, he wasn’t the person I could go for every single thing. For me, that was always my dad, and when I lost the chance to turn to him whenever I wanted to, it turned me into a different person. “It’s like you know you haven’t just lost your best friend, but lost a piece of yourself too. And every time you experience something—a new moment, a new milestone, or even discover a song that you think they would like, the crashing feeling of constantly chasing a tide comes to you, and you’re grieving them all over again.”

Her eyes shot to mine, and I cursed under my breath. I didn’t mean to upset her, but her grief was mixed with understanding, and my chest tightened.

“How?” She bit her lip, and it took everything in me not to look away, but instead, I got up and made my way to her. Her body instantly relaxing at the proximity.

“My Dad,” I replied, and her expression shifted, surprise flickering through her eyes. “He’s been sick for a while now.”

“Does Rihaan know?”

My finger caressed her knee, trying to comfort myself more than her. “Only that he’s not been doing well. But my dad asked us not to tell people, and he didn’t want the kind of press it would bring to chase me. So, outside our family, no one really knows except for my agent.”

She exhaled softly before gently wrapping a finger around mine. It was small, but the steady feeling flooded through me. “Is he critical?”

“It’s not… life-threatening, but with his meds, there are a lot of muscular side effects. And for someone who was an athlete and used to be a lot more active, his mental health has taken a huge impact.” I replied, my gaze focused on the blank screen ahead of us when another finger wrapped around mine, almost like she was trying to give me a tight hug. “I think the hardest part has been watching him slowly lose himself without being able to do much for him.”

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, as a small tear slipped down her cheek. “That sounds impossibly hard.”

Leaning forward, I wiped it with my free hand and nodded because there was a lump the size of a red ball stuck in my throat at her broken expression.

It was then that I realised how easy it was to open up to her and that if she ever gave me the chance to, I wanted to be the person she could turn to and I wanted her to be mine.