Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
?? MIAMI, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
“ A nother double podium for Primavera Racing this season,” Franklin Harlow, the Head Presenter of F1, exclaimed enthusiastically. “How are you guys feeling about this weekend?”
“Well, it was a tricky race,” Thiago started as he sat to Rowan’s left, whilst Miles—as per usual, the winner of the Grand Prix—was to his right. They were in a room filled with sports journalists and all three drivers had been answering questions about the race. “It’s not easy to seek slipstream here and overtaking can be tricky. But we had a good strategy, and everything went smoothly.”
“What was the cause of this great result?”
Rowan draped an arm over the back of the sofa they were sitting on, pointing a finger at himself. “You’re looking at him.”
Soft chuckles resonated around.
“You’re so cocky,” Miles noted amusedly.
“Hey, bud, if no one can love you, you’ve got to love yourself,” Rowan joked, though he wanted to look at a particular person standing in the back of the room. He lowered his gaze, forcing himself not to meet chocolate eyes. He didn’t even know why his thoughts had drifted towards her, as though he couldn’t control that heavy gravity between him and Avery.
For the entirety of the interview, he made sure not to be obvious and kept his gaze either on his shoes or on Franklin, but he felt like he would combust.
He had finished the race P3; and to him, that was an amazing result.
So far, the season was great—reactive car, powerful engine, overall great strategies.
But his phone had been vibrating in the pocket of his jeans for the past hour. Rowan knew who was busy blowing up his notifications. He wasn’t sure he wanted to face his father’s wrath. All he wanted was to bask in chocolate moons that procured him an unsolicited solace and get lost in her whispered sighs and her dreamy body.
He simply couldn’t handle any more pressure today.
“True,” Miles agreed, his voice keeping Rowan away from his daydream.
“The next Grand Prix is Monaco’s,” Franklin said then. “Are you looking forward to it?”
Rowan was pacing back and forth in his driver’s room, trying to calm his uneven breaths and regain composure over his racing thoughts. He passed his fingers through his hair, inhaling. Exhaling. Repeating. But nothing seemed to be working. Nothing he tried could erase the harsh words his father had told him over the phone.
It wasn’t the first time he had been belittled and torn apart by Stephen, but Rowan wasn’t exactly sure why he still let those words affect him so much.
He heard the door to his room open, but he didn’t turn around.
“Rowan?”
He wasn’t certain if his name had been called out, or if he had imagined it.
An ache inside his chest had bloomed, and he rubbed at the painful spot to make it go away.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
Her voice was distant, but he could recognise that honeyed tone anywhere.He just couldn’t pull himself to the surface to breathe properly.
Gentle hands touched his upper arms, startling him. He blinked, and there she was. Standing in front of him, wide eyes brimmed with concern stared up at him, studying his features that were stricken with panic.
“Breathe,” Avery demanded. “With me. Inhale. Exhale.”
He followed her instructions, steady breaths soon replacing the ragged ones that had once reverberated off the walls of this very room.The buzzing in his ears disappeared slowly, his vision clearing up in tandem.
“Good job,” she praised in a whisper.“Again.”
He felt her hands on his trembling arms, smelled her sweet fragrance enveloping his senses, listened to her voice guiding him.
“I’m sorry,” he croaked out, rubbing his face. His pulse was still thrumming erratically, his head spinning like it refused to rest.
“Don’t apologise. What happened?”
She stepped back, and Rowan instantly craved her touch. Its soothing power. Its delicacy. But he simply watched her turn around, bending over to grab his phone from the floor.
“What did this poor phone do to you?” She studied the shattered screen, grimacing before handing him the device.
Rowan threw the phone on the sofa and took a seat. “More like what did the person calling say to me?”
“Daddy issues?”
“Yeah,” he scoffed. “Nothing new.”
Taking a seat next to him, she bumped her shoulder into his. He smiled softly, returning her teasing gesture. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Rowan shook his head. “Nothing for you to worry about. Just same old Stephen messing with my head and telling me to go to hell.”
He had always struggled with being satisfied with his performance, but he had learned to see the positive side in every situation. He craved to be able to cope with the pressure, though. To be able to overcome the fear of disappointing a man who had walked out of his life decades ago.
“Rowan,” she murmured sorrowfully. He obliged to look into her eyes, and something bizarre happened inside his chest: his heart fissured at the same time as it mended itself back. “You’re a good man. You know you’re enough. You know you’re an amazing driver. Don’t let him ruin your mood and energy.”
“Thank you, sunflower.” He wanted to embrace her. Wanted to feel her. But all he did was throw a sad smile her way. “I thought you left the circuit. What are you doing here?”
“I left my recorder here. I can’t forget to send a report to Nikki.”
He frowned. “Are you going to work tonight?”
“Probably. I’d rather be done with it sooner than later.”
He shifted to face her, tucking a strand of hair behind an ear. Her lashes fluttered, as though she was getting lost in his electric touch, too. “Come to the club with me. We can sneak and fool around.”
“You know I can’t,” she replied softly.
“Come on,” he huffed. “We’re in Miami. You need to come. We can bang in the bathroom or something.”
She rolled her eyes. “You just want to get some.”
“Always with you.” He winked as she gave him a dirty look.
“Celebrate your podium and this amazing weekend the way it deserves to be celebrated. Be the Rowan everyone adores. But you can be yourself when you’re with me. I hope you know that.”
“Yeah, I do.” He cupped her jaw, skimming her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “Be there. Please.”
He didn’t give a shit if he sounded desperate.
Rowan didn’t know why he wanted to spend every minute of every day with her. To talk about everything. To laugh. To bicker. He simply couldn’t fathom this urge to be around Avery all the time.
A line drew itself between her brows. Still, she didn’t make a move to get away from him. “You’re not being careful.”
Damn her and her rational logic. “Does it look like I care?”
Silence fell, honey staring deeply into chocolate. It felt as though she was sharing a secret with him, and he was giving one of his own.
She frowned, leaning into his touch. “What are we doing?”
Rowan’s mind was still hazy, but all he knew was that she had managed to coax him through that storm of wild emotions. His body didn’t hurt anymore. On the contrary, it was now thrumming with anticipation, as if her existence had brought him back to life. He’d never felt like this before.
“I don’t know.”
Not a single soul could know about them, or else Avery and Rowan would lose everything. But part of himself wanted someone to know about his hands in her hair, her clothes in his room.
Rowan was downright confused about the way he felt.
“Can we meet tonight?”
A soft smile tugged her lips upwards. “You really do want to see me today, don’t you?”
His response was a mere nod.
“Rowan,” she started, delicately brushing a rebellious lock away from his forehead. “I—”
She got interrupted by the door opening. Scrambling away, he sat on the other side of the sofa whilst she stood up, glancing at the walls filled with Polaroid pictures.
“Okay, I need to ask you something, bro.” Tate’s voice resonated, followed by eager claps in his hands. “Ah, Ave, we need to talk books! You coming to the club? I’m happy to share my thoughts about—”
“She’s not coming,” Rowan interrupted gruffly. “What did you want to ask?”
Tate looked at him and smirked. “Who are you shagging?”
Rowan’s breath caught as he blinked slowly. “Sorry?”
“I heard you the other night. Our rooms are right next door.”
Ah, shit. Shit. Shiiit.
Rowan rubbed the back of his neck. “Just this girl.”
Avery slipped away, winking at him.
Tate gaped at the woman set on running away. “Ava, do you know about this?”
She shook her head vigorously. “His sex life doesn’t concern me. Who would even want to sleep with him?”
“I bet you dream of it every night,” Rowan bit out. What a brat.
“Do I dream of wiping that shit-eating grin off your face? Yes.” She blew him a kiss, followed by a faux smile which caused Tate to snicker. “Have a lovely evening.”
He scoffed. “Not returning the kindness.”
“How surprising,” she mused.
Perhaps their incessant bickering could cover them just enough.
“Your girl sounded hot,” Tate muttered, and Rowan saw a flame of rage blind his vision.
“She was,” he said, tone clipped.
“Nice,” his friend cheered. Avery had walked out of the room, but Rowan hadn’t missed her reddened cheeks and timid smile. “Hold on… Did you break your phone again?”