Chapter 21 Theo
Theo
Birmingham...almost
The private jet was soaring high above the clouds - and given we were above Britain, there were a hell of a lot of clouds.
I felt my stomach do a somersault as the plane rocked a little, and reached for Sebastian’s hand.
He wasn’t there, but I’d got used to having him as my rock over the course of the European Tour.
“Should I not have splurged on the private jet?” asked my cousin, Bradley. He was sitting in the big leather armchair across from me, and looked so utterly relaxed that I wanted to punch him. Not that I would have even made a mark, he was an ex-boxer and still built like a mountain.
“You know I’ve never been one for flying,” I muttered.
“I thought this would be the easier option. Look, you can see the airfield from here.” Bradley gestured out of the window.
We must have been over Birmingham. With Silverstone closed for essential upgrades, the British GP had been moved this year to a track that had been last used decades ago.
It meant that even home turf was unfamiliar for me.
“I’ll take your word for it.” I tightened the belt around my waist. “How’s Arthur?”
“He’s good. Drawing me up another back tattoo at the moment, it’s gonna be epic.
How’s Sebastian García? You seem to be all starry-eyed whenever you’re around him on the telly.
” Bradley waggled his eyebrows. “And that gushing social media post he made the other week? My mum almost cried when I showed her, started planning the wedding.”
“Why the hell would you show her that? She’ll be at the race, I don’t want her putting Sebastian off his a-game. Anyway, that social media post was a bet. He had to do it, because I won the race.”
“And you’re telling me all of that stuff isn’t true? All those I love yous and fantastic driver and whatever the stuff he said in Spanish was?”
“No comment.” I could feel the blush creeping up my cheeks, and finally let myself look out of the window as a distraction. We’d dropped out of the clouds, and the concrete jungle of Birmingham splayed out behind us.
“Change of subject…how are you feeling about your chances?” Bradley asked. “Going into the final in first is surely the best you could have hoped for.”
“It’s close, though,” I said. “Any one of the three of us could be walking away with the European trophy on Sunday. I just have to put the work in.”
“Even against lover-boy?” Bradley asked. “That’s not causing any issues in the relationship?”
I grimaced. “We love each other, and we’re working through it. Don’t tell anyone, but his career relies on winning the trophy. We’ve promised to compete hard against each other no matter what, but it doesn’t exactly make me feel good to know winning could fuck with his career.”
“And you wouldn’t let him win, just this once?” asked Bradley.
“I’ve thought about it, more than once,” I admitted. “But imagine if I did, and then I never had a championship-winning car again? Or if someone could somehow prove I threw the race? It might kill my career and his, and what would that be worth?”
In all honesty, the scores were so close that it was anyone’s game.
After my win in Krakow, I’d come third in Hamburg and then won again at Zandvoort.
I was going into the final race of the European Tour with one point more than Sebastian and nine more than Max.
If any of us won the next race, we could be winners of the European Tour.
The points would carry over to the American Tour in a couple of months, but one of us would be declared champion of Europe.
It had been a lifelong dream to win the European Trophy on home soil, but now I wasn’t so sure how I would feel, if holding that trophy up meant looking into Sebastian’s eyes as his career fell apart around him.
We sat in silence as the plane descended ever closer to the tarmac, and I let out a breath as the wheels finally touched the ground.
“Let’s just chill out. You’re not needed until tomorrow, right?” asked Bradley
“Bright and early,” I said.
“No plans to see Sebastian?”
“Nah, he hasn’t replied to my text before we left. Some teams have a total shut down for the week of the European final, so I don’t blame him for being a bit slow to get back to me,” I said.
The plane had slowed and was taxiing to a stop.
We both unbuckled and stood. Bradley leaned down in front of the window to tie his shoelace.
“Could you grab our hand luggage from the lockers?” he asked.
“I’ll have some guys bring our suitcases straight to the accommodation, we can chill in Birmingham for a couple of hours if you like. ”
“That would be nice. Is Arthur around? If I win the tour, I’d love for a commemorative tattoo,” I said.
“You can ask him about it night now,” replied Bradley.
He gestured towards the door, which the stewardess had lowered so that we could step off the plane.
Bradley kept close behind me, and I shielded my eyes as I stepped out.
It was a cloudy day, but the mid-summer sun was still trying to break through.
As my eyes adjusted, I caught sight of Arthur on the tarmac.
I gave him a big wave, and started to step down the stairs to meet him.
But before I could reach him, another figure stepped out of the shadows of the terminal and into the light.
A beautiful, familiar figure in his favourite linen shirt and shorts.
“Sebastian!” I shouted, rudely rocketing past Arthur as my boyfriend held his arms out to me.
It had only been a couple of days since we’d seen each other after the Zandvoort race, and he still had the marks on his neck to prove it.
I kissed each of them in turn before kissing him on the lips.
His stubble was a little rougher than normal, and he looked as tired as I felt with bags under his eyes, but I was so happy to see him.
“You cousin asked me to join you all for the day, I hope that is alright,” said Sebastian.
“Of course. I can’t wait for you to get to know each other,” I replied.
I melted into his arms, and I could feel myself breathing easier after the tense flight.
Somehow, my biggest competition was also the person that made me feel safest and most relaxed.
And we could both do with the feeling of safety over the next couple of days.
“So. Anyone for curry?” asked Bradley. I barely extricated myself from Sebastian’s arms, simply moving him so that we linked arms rather than the full body smush I’d forced on him.
“Ready for anything,” I said, even as my stomach did a little lurch again. We were in the endgame now, and I had no idea how Sebastian would come out the other side.
My stomach rumbled, but I was picking at my curry like it had offended me. Both Bradley and Arthur had dug into theirs, but I could see Sebastian doing exactly the same thing as me. Pre-race day was always anxiety inducing, but this felt different. Uncharted territory.
“How’s the tattoo, Sebastian?” Arthur asked.
“Beautiful, thank you. You helped me to cover up a horrible lie.” Sebastian winked at me, and the butterflies in my stomach eased a little. We were both going to be fine, right?
“What did yours say again, I can’t remember?” asked Arthur, still looking at Sebastian. “I remember designing the cover up but I can’t quite figure out the wording.”
I could feel my cheeks heating as I thought about just how immature I’d been. At how much hatred I’d felt for Sebastian in that moment. How I’d wanted to hurt him, embarrass him. And how obviously he had wanted to do the same to me.
I looked at him now. In the dim light of the restaurant in Birmingham’s curry quarter.
Candlelight flickering over tanned skin and burnt-caramel brown eyes.
Perhaps it wasn’t hatred I’d felt for him.
Perhaps it was all the passion I had bubbling over into a different channel.
A more destructive one in the face of a man I thought couldn’t possibly love me back.
“Earth to Theo,” said Arthur, waving a hand in front of my eyes. “Are you OK?”
“Yeah…yeah. Just need some air,” I muttered. I stood up from the table and weaved my way through the cramped little restaurant.
Outside, it was getting cold. Not cold for Britain, of course, it was midsummer, but I sometimes felt like I was made for the Andalusian heat. I needed dry heat, the sounds of crickets chirping.
I sat down in front of the window of the restaurant and put my head in my hands. I breathed in and out slowly until I got my heart rate under control.
“I used to get like this before a big fight,” said Bradley from beside me. He sank to his haunches in front of me and took my hands in his bigger ones, covered in ink and calluses. “Only person who could calm me down was Arthur.”
“Well what if you were fighting Arthur?” I asked. “Right across the ring, the one man who could ground you was your biggest competition?”
Bradley grimaced. “You think I could take him in a fight? He’d pummel me to the ground, professional boxer or no. I wouldn’t stand a chance.”
That pulled a laugh out of me. “I know. It’s just…I want this so bad. But I know if I win then Sebastian loses. That’s not easy, you know?”
“I know. But he’s a big boy, right? He can handle it. And so can you.”
“I’m not so sure,” I mumbled. Bradley pulled me to my feet without asking me if I was ready.
“Y’know what? I’d be honoured if I could go toe-to-toe with my boyfriend in an art gallery, or if he decided to step into the ring to fight me.
I’m not saying it would be easy for either of us.
But if you both want to win, but would both be thrilled to see the other win, then I think you’re in the best position on that grid.
Absolutely no one else on that grid will have that privilege. ”
“When did you get so wise?” I snarked, and Bradley messed up my hair with one hand as he gestured to the door with the other.
“Ask Arthur. Because he’ll tell you I was a brainless idiot when we met.”
I stepped back into the warm glow of the restaurant feeling just a little lighter.