Chapter 5 Sebastian
Sebastian
Barcelona
Isat in the darkened restaurant and waited for the victor to arrive and claim his spoils. He was late, and hadn’t texted. But Theo was a nice person. He would have texted me if he couldn’t show up. I knew that to be true.
I did check my phone, just in case. But I looked up when I heard the hushed tones of the maitre’d, and he was leading Theo towards my table.
He had dressed nicely in a linen button-down shirt and cream trousers.
I was dressed in such dark clothing I almost blended in with the dark velvet of the seats.
Theo’s eyes lit up when he saw me, and he moved as if to hug me, but the maitre’d had pulled out a chair and gestured pointedly at it.
Theo gave him a nervous grin and took the seat.
“I hope this isn’t too sacrilegious,” he said. “Italian food with a Spaniard in Barcelona.”
“We can try my madre’s paella another time,” I said with a conspiratorial grin, and his cheeks darkened as he perused the menu.
How my mother would love him if I brought him home.
But that was a silly little fantasy. I didn’t know if he blushed so much around me because he felt remotely the same way about me or if he was simply embarrassed by how much I pushed myself into his presence.
Until he said as such out loud, I would take every chance I could get.
“Vino para ustedes, senores?” said the waiter. Both of us looked up and shook our heads at the same time.
“Agua para mi,” I said.
“Cheap date,” quipped Theo.
“You know we cannot drink on a race week,” I admonished him.
“You could at least stretch to a lemonade,” Theo whispered. “I’ve seen how much they’re paying you over at Remini.”
“True. We must toast your victory,” I said, calling the waiter back over. “Queremos dos tés helados.”
“OK, my Spanish doesn’t stretch that far,” Theo said.
“Iced tea. Caffeine might keep us both awake for a little longer,” I said.
Theo yawned and then caught himself. “It’s your fault. You made me remember that I’m tired.”
I chuckled. “I know the feeling. Two more races until we get a gap.”
“Two more races and I can have a drink,” said Theo. “I miss margaritas, but I’m not one to have a drink on race week.”
“Margaritas? I’ll have to remember that for next weekend when you lose,” I said with a grin.
The waiter came over with our sweet iced teas and we both ordered our pizzas.
I wondered if Theo had chosen such a relatively random restaurant because he felt pity for me crashing out.
I was sure if we had raced well right until the end he would have chosen the most pretentious and expensive restaurant he could to humiliate me.
For a second, we sat in silence. I was used to ribbing Theo on the race track with other people around, able to joke with him about the upcoming races and our performance.
But it was quiet in the restaurant. Intimate in a way it hadn’t been since I’d used suncream as an excuse to get my hands on his body.
“Are you OK?” Theo asked after a moment.
“Me? Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked.
“Because you crashed out in the last race. It’s never fun, but it’s worse in your first race of the season.”
It took me a second to answer. “I’ll live,” I said. “It happens.”
“Yes, but I asked if you’re OK, not if you’ll live,” said Theo, leaning in toward me. For a second, I thought he was about to reach forward and hold my hand.
“I am…OK,” I said. The truth was, the crash had devastated me.
But I had a split second decision to make coming around the corner.
I could have under-corrected my car’s awkward steering, but that might have meant clipping Theo’s back wing.
And I hadn’t wanted to ruin both of our races.
So I took drastic action and took myself completely out of the race with an oversteer.
“Have you got your contract sorted for next year?” Theo asked. “I was reading the racing news the other day and it mentioned that negotiations are underway.”
I tried not to grimace. “I just need a couple of good races, then we’ll have a couple of years extension on my contract. After last year…”
I’d tailed off, but Theo seemed to understand what I was trying to say. Over nine years of race experience, I had made enough money to live happily for the rest of my life. But I still had so much more to give. I had never won a Driver’s Championship trophy.
“What’s next, then? We’ve got Barcelona, Monaco, Munich, Vienna…” Theo counted off the cities on his fingers.
“Budapest, Krakow, Hamburg, Rotterdam and Birmingham,” I finished for him. “And then the U.S. Tour.”
“The U.S. Tour,” Theo’s eyes sparkled. “I love Las Vegas.”
I snorted. “Of course you would. Beautiful women, sparkly things, and the chance to spend lots and lots of money.”
“Hey!” Theo looked indignant. “I am one of very few Moto 1 drivers who’s never dated a model. No matter how many times my management tries to set me up. Whereas you…”
“Allowed my management to set me up. Yes. I have never slept with any of the women who have been seen on my arm.”
“Bullshit,” chuckled Theo. He startled as the waiter, who had silently approached from behind, placed his pizza in front of him.
“I promise, I only tell the truth,” I said. “I have had my fair share of adventures, but never with the women that people think I am with.
“So the Three Inches in Monaco headline wasn’t true then?” Theo snickered.
“That headline was the last straw,” I muttered. “Since then, I have avoided every publicity relationship they try to force on me.”
“But you’ve had your fun?” Theo asked.
Oh, like you wouldn’t believe. “I’ve had my fun,” I confirmed.
I waited until Theo had picked up a slice of his pizza and started eating before I asked my question in return. “So, have you had your fun?”
He considered thoughtfully as he chewed. “So, Brooke and I meet up every few weeks in our hotel room…”
“I knew it! I knew you had hooked up with Brooke!” I said triumphantly even as my heart sank a little.
“…to gossip about girls and boys,” he finished. “Seriously, she’s as lesbian as they come.”
“So why are you…?” the cogs in my mind were working so fast I feared they would seize up.
“Talking about boys? I’d have thought that was pretty obvious,” Theo said, but his quiet tone told me he was nervous to say it.
“You…like men?” I asked. My heart had reversed its earlier plummet and was doing little somersaults inside my body.
“And women,” said Theo. “I’m an equal opportunities kinda guy.
But this sport doesn’t allow for serious relationships.
We travel a lot, and I don’t like the thought of either leaving someone behind, forcing someone to come around the world with me, or going out with a model who’s more interested in taking Instagram shots than they are in an actual relationship. ”
“Or you could date a driver,” I said without thinking. Well, perhaps I had been thinking. With both my heart and my penis.
Theo smirked. “Sure. You find me another queer driver on the paddock, and I’ll give it a go.”
My heart thumped erratically as I raised my hand slightly. “Hello.”
Theo, who had taken another bite of his pizza, choked for a second before getting himself back under control. “No way!”
“Yes way,” I said. “Like you, I am…equal opportunities.”
“You’re bisexual?” he asked.
I looked around the nearly empty restaurant. Absolutely no one was paying any attention to us. “Something like that.”
“Well, it’s great to have another queer friend in the Moto 1 paddock. Maybe we can head out to some bars after the Grand Prix. Wingmen,” Theo said with a grin.
“Yes. Wingmen,” I muttered, trying to school my face into a neutral expression. He’d offered to date the first queer Moto 1 driver he could find and then immediately thrown me into the friend zone. Fantastic.
We ate the rest of our pizzas with only casual conversation. Theo kept sneaking conspiratorial glances my way like we’d just shared our deepest secrets at a sleepover.
“So what’s our Barcelona bet?” I asked him.
Theo grinned. “I’ve been thinking about this. No holds barred, loser has to wear an item of clothing of the winner’s choice for a whole day in Monaco.”
“You’re on,” I said, reaching for his hand to shake.
I might have imagined that we both held the handshake just a little longer than was normal.
His skin was so soft, so warm in mine. But then it was over and we went back to our pizzas like nothing had happened.
Like nothing ever would happen between us.
I tried to keep the same casual banter for the rest of the evening with him despite the heartbreak. Theodore Tyler was gorgeous, and perfect, and I could be everything he’d asked for. But if he still didn’t want me, then my only goal for the season would be to win as many races as I could.
Love could wait until next season.
I was at the front of the grid. Qualifying had been a complete success, and I was ready to race to win.
The weather in Barcelona was beautiful, with a gentle breeze tickling my skin through the vizor of my helmet.
A win was far from assured. The Circuit de Barcelona had a reputation for overtakes, as well as accidents due to the speed on the final straight.
Racers had fought from last place to first on this track, though I held the advantage.
I had a great start, speeding off in front of Brooke Savage in second.
But immediately I could sense something was wrong.
My car didn’t feel as responsive as it had in Qualifying.
Coming into the first corner, I pushed down on the brake pedal, and the car didn’t slow down as much as it should have, forcing me to take the corner wide.
“These brakes aren’t working for me, guys,” I said into the comms.
“We can see that, keep driving and see if they warm up.”
Every corner felt worse. I lost a place to Brooke, and then to Theo.
Alfons Schester got by me without much difficulty, and with how wide I was being forced to take the corners at speed it wasn’t long before I was almost out of the top ten points-scoring positions.
Three laps later, I got the news I knew was coming.
“We’re going to have to retire the car, I’m afraid. Box to finish the race,” said the voice in my ear.
I didn’t scream, or shout, or curse. I just waited until I was out of the car, up the stairs and into the team hospitality suite before I allowed myself to sink to the floor and bury my head in my hands.
What am I going to do?