Chapter 8 Theo
Theo
Iwalked through the streets of Monaco under the moonlight, a cap pulled down over my face to avoid the gaze of the few people who were still out so late.
There would be parties going on, still, but they would be confined to casinos, hotels, and the team hospitality suites.
I hoped Graham was still celebrating his second place.
I had managed a respectable fifth, and my championship hopes were not dashed.
I had mostly been pleased for Sebastian’s win.
And then the world had been cruel enough to take that from him.
I didn’t know if he’d be showing up to the marina tonight, and I wouldn’t blame him if he hadn’t.
Perhaps he was in full crisis mode, calling everyone he knew after the news to fix things. I had no idea.
But as the marina came into view, with so many yachts parked, lights off and quiet, I saw him.
Sitting on the edge of the concrete wall and staring down at the water, silhouetted by ripples of moonlight on the water.
Sebastian’s broad shoulders were slumped, his head down.
I made my way over to him quickly and sat directly next to him.
“How are you?” I asked.
For several long moments, he was quiet. I listened to his rhythmic breathing and the splash of water against the walls. And then he opened his mouth.
“Max Burnham,” he muttered. “Max fucking Burnham.”
“I know,” I replied, not sure what else to say. “It’s not fair.”
The headlines had hit the news an hour before midnight. Max in, Sebastian Out at Remini! and Despite Monaco Win, a Bump in the Road for Sebastian García.
We sat in silence a little while longer.
He didn’t seem to be in much of a mood to talk, so I did the only thing I could do.
I took his hand in mine and rubbed calming circles into it with my thumb, hoping that calming Sebastian down was worth the way that touching him made my heart beat almost out of my chest.
“I just…I gave everything to this sport,” said Sebastian. “Since I was a kid, I karted, and then I raced in real cars, and finally I made it into Moto 1. And I’ve not seen my family. I have avoided relationships. I haven’t lived my life. And this is how it repays me.”
My heart broke to hear him sound so dejected. “Oi. You are not down and out yet,” I said. “Plenty of drivers have recovered from worse. I bet there will be teams queuing out of the door to have a driver like Sebastian García.”
Sebastian smirked, but it was humourless. “Sure. Dragon Racing or Rebel Force. Both bottom of the table, I would never win in their cars.”
“So that’s what this is about?” I nudged him, a grin pulling up at the corners of my mouth despite the situation. “You just want to be a champion.”
“Don’t we all?” asked Sebastian. “And having Remini drop me…it just feels like a step backward at the wrong time, and I don’t know how to recover.”
“You recover by being the best you can possibly be. You don’t give up.
You keep racing at your best. You’ve got the whole European tour before your contract is done.
Make yourself an even hotter commodity.” When Sebastian didn’t reply, I changed tack.
“When did you find out? You seemed happy after the race.”
“The same time as you did, probably.” Sebastian sounded even more bitter than before, and when I looked at him, his eyes were deep in shadow. “A breaking news notification on the Moto 1 app, followed by a thousand calls from my agent and from Magnus.”
“And what have they had to say about this?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I refused to answer,” said Sebastian. “I don’t want to hear their voices. Magnus told me he wanted to talk about my career tomorrow. I thought he was going to extend my contract, but instead…he signed another behind my back. And didn’t even have the balls to tell me.”
“Why not call him? Maybe there’s an explanation,” I said, not believing my own words.
Sebastian’s humourless laugh was back again. “It’s too late now. My phone is gone.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Under the water,” said Sebastian, pointing into the darkness of the Marina.
“And they say Spaniards are passionate people,” I muttered. Finally, I got a good laugh from Sebastian. Determined to keep his mood a little better, I ploughed on. “You know, you’re still a winner. And that can only mean one thing.”
“What?” asked Sebastian.
Rather than answer, I let go of his hand and stood.
I took a quick furtive look around before ripping my t-shirt off, kicking off my shoes and then dropping my shorts to the ground.
With just a hand over my groin to cover my modesty, I took a deep breath before jumping and plunging into the cool waters of Monaco Marina.
“Fuck, that’s cold!” I shouted as I surfaced, pushing back my hair and looking at Sebastian where he sat, grinning down at me. “Happy now?”
“Almost,” said Sebastian. “I just wish I still had my phone to take a picture of you.”
“Pervert,” I grinned. “Come on in, the water’s warm!”
I didn’t expect Sebastian to actually do it, but he ripped off his t-shirt and cap in one solid movement. He turned around as he dropped his shorts, giving me the view of a lifetime of the perfectly round globes of his muscular arse with just the right amount of fur.
When he turned, cupping himself with one hand, I tried my best to keep my face casual. Inside, I was melting, and I knew I was getting hard in the water. Sebastian took a couple of slow steps backwards, then ran before jumping into the water, splashing me with a wave as he hit the surface.
“Bastard,” I said, as he surfaced, wet and smiling. He paddled over to me. It was so dark I couldn’t see much of him underwater, which on one hand was a shame, but I was grateful that he wouldn’t be able to spot just how hard his naked presence was making me.
“You love this really. The danger of losing a bet like this. It will make you want to win the next race even more.” Sebastian’s hand came to rest on my shoulder, and I wondered if he could feel my heartbeat even from that far away.
I didn’t need to tell him that my need to win didn’t come from our silly little bets.
It came from the desperate need that all of us drivers had to be the best. It came from my overwhelming desire to stand at the top of that podium at the end of the year.
No, our bets gave me something far better.
An excuse to be close to him. A real friendship in the middle of the craziness that was Moto 1.
After a little while of swimming together and chatting about the race overall, I made my excuses and swam back to the ladder at the edge of the marina.
I was keenly aware of how close Sebastian was as I climbed the ladder naked with no means of covering my modesty.
We both dragged our shorts over wet legs and slipped on our shoes, and then walked back up the hill with Sebastian’s arm over my shoulders.
And for just one moment, I allowed myself to wonder what life might be like if I allowed Sebastian García fully into my heart.