Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Royce
QUALIFYING
This.
This is what it’s all about.
This moment, just as you’re lowering yourself into the cockpit of the car.
Your mechanics are rallying around you, keeping the tyres warm and finishing their final checks. The engine vibrates under you, your fingers tingle as they lock around the steering wheel. You wait for this moment for what feels like forever.
This is where I was born to be. I’m free as a bird when I am tucked in here. No outside noise. No distraction. Just me and the car.
Revving the engine, the noise sends a chill down my spine. The adrenaline is pumping through my blood, and Marcel checks in on the radio.
“Radio check,” he says, his voice soft and smooth.
“Yup, loud and clear.”
My guys pull the blankets off the tyres as I am called forward, rolling the car out and getting the green light to pull out of the pits.
Fuck, it feels good.
The team spent all day yesterday fixing upgrades and checking it over. I just hope to fucking God that it’s the one because it’s parc fermé now so if there was anything, we’re fucked.
“Okay, Royce, let’s do this.”
The same quote echoes through my ears as I fly onto the track, clean air in front of me. I needed to keep my tyres warm and drive like my life depends on it. I can’t afford to be knocked out; I need to be in Q3. Anything less would be soul destroying.
Shifting through the gears, I fly down just past Clark Corner, the engine purring as I down shift into sector three.
“Fastest sector two, Royce.” Marcel’s voice is calm and collected and I smile.
Crossing the finish line, I cruise up to fifth and I hear Marcel mutter something under his breath, sounds like a win. I don’t focus too much on it, though, because we’re not out of the danger zone yet.
Flying through the speed trap, I get caught up behind Griffin from Montcroix and curse down the radio.
“He fucking got in my way.” Agitation bites at the base of my neck.
“Yup, we saw. Dealing with it.”
“Fuck,” I scream, rage simmering.
“Just focus on your lap times, Royce. Don’t lose your head.”
He is right. I can’t lose my head. I needed a Q3 finish. I wasn’t going to get that if I get distracted by what was already happened.
Cruising down sector one, Marcel informs me that I was eight tenths of a second off the fastest sector.
“Where’s Cowan?” I snap down the radio.
“Don’t worry about Cowan, Royce. Head down.”
“Where is he?” I fly out of Clark Corner, and I feel the back end of my car slide. The steering forces right but I manage to get it under control. “Shit,” I hiss, checking my mirrors.
“All okay?”
“Yeah, lost grip.” My words are rushed.
“Royce, box next lap. Let’s get the car in.”
I don’t need to respond. I go silent and focus on driving the car deep where needed and kissing the kerb before opening it up on the straight.
“Purple sector three.”
My fingers tingle as I fly it past the finish line and move to second.
“Bring her home, Royce,” Marcel gently reminds me, and I do as he says, driving around to the pits and waiting for Q2 to start.
Qualifying over, I climb from the car, having secured fourth and outqualified my teammate. Cowan was dropped in Q2, and I know I should be gutted because this is still team points, but I’m not.
As soon as my boots hit the garage floor, I’m seeking her out. Ana?s is there taking photos, Nora is tapping into her phone. Before I can ask either of them where Athena is, my dad strides towards me with a huge grin on his face, pulling me in for a hug then claps his hand into mine.
“Well done, mate,” he says loudly then I see Glenn move towards me.
“Drive like that tomorrow, son, and I think we will have ourselves a podium.”
I wink, placing my helmet on the side as I walk towards my room. My suit is tied around my waist, and I feel like I am dripping. I need a shower.
“Excuse me,” Nora calls behind me, and I roll my eyes.
“Yes.” I spin on my toe and place my hands on my hips, my fingers stretched across my long johns.
“Press.” Her tone is curt, her brows raised, and her fucking eyes bore into me.
“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter under my breath, and she gives me a ‘don’t start’ look. Sighing, I follow her.
“And don’t get too excited because it’s straight to briefing after.”
Scrubbing my face, I inhale heavily then mumble a string of curse words under my breath.
Dressed in sweats and a tee, I sit in my hotel room, air con drifting through as I wait for Athena to get here. I’m annoyed that I didn’t get to see her. I need her there watching, constantly, and yet when I looked, she was nowhere to be seen.
Maybe I just didn’t see her. Maybe she was there but I was rushed around by Nora as soon as my feet touched the ground.
A knock at the door has me springing from my seat as I walk quickly towards where I hope she’s waiting. Pulling it open, she stands there dressed in a little flowy skirt, a tee, and trainers. Her hair is in a messy bun, and curly strands drop either side of her pretty face.
How does she do that? She looks hotter as each day passes.
“Come in.” I smile, but I can’t help the bitter tone that lingers on my words.
She clings to her notepad and laptop and shuffles into the room. “Well done today. I heard Q3 is amazing.” She bobs her head, looking around the large room.
“Yeah, it is.” I hover by the open-plan lounge area of my suite. Silence is heavy, deafening the room and I squeeze the back of my neck. “Where were you?” I ask, shooting straight for the fucking jugular.
“When?” Her voice cracks, and her eyes widen.
“When qualifying was on, where were you?” I pace and I have no fucking idea what is wrong with me. Why should I care where she is? Or was it because it was who she could have been with?
Fuck.
“Sitting on the pit wall, then just before Q3, I moved into the cool down room. I didn’t want to be in the way when you pulled in and everything was go, go, go.”
Fuck me dead, her expression guts me. Her words wrap around me, squeezing me and bit by bit, the anger sweeps away like waves against sand.
“I just thought…” Her words trail off.
I step towards her, my hands cupping her face as I tilt her eyes up towards mine. “Don’t ever think that. Be there when I get out the car, you’re the first person I want to see when I walk into the garage.”
Amber eyes dance with mine, irises wide as they pull me in. She nods, licking those full lips, and I sink my bottom teeth into my own, dragging them and slowly trying to ease the want to edge forward. I have no idea what was wrong with me.
She steps back, waits a moment, and then walks towards the sofa, lowering herself into it. I stride to the armchair, rubbing my hands down my thighs as I sit.
“Drink?” I ask, looking around the room.
“Yeah, okay.” Her complexion pinkens and her eyes drop to her lap.
“Mini bar isn’t stocked. I’ll call down.”
“Oh no, don’t, it’s fine, don’t get one just for me.” She shakes her head, her fingers tapping on the cover of her notepad.
“No, it’s cool. I’ll get myself water or something, so you don’t feel bad.” I half laugh and she blinks a few times.
After ordering the drinks, we wait and I find myself not knowing what to say, but she swoops in and begins talking.
“Got a decent chunk of notes down today,” she mutters, “and I think I have an idea how I want the story to go.”
That piques my interest. “Is that so?”
“Mmhmm.” She smiles, those fucking dimples pressing into her cheeks.
“Can I know?” I press, not lifting my eyes off her for a second.
“Nope.” She scrunches her nose. “I need to make sure I am feeling them first, you know? I have to connect with them.”
“I see.”
“Plus, it may be about you.” She looks up through her lashes at me and I cough, eyes creasing at the corners. “Jokes.” She flips her notepad open. “Okay, so, we had practice yesterday morning.” She makes a little scribble in her book.
“That’s right.” I nod and just as she goes to speak, the door knocks. “Hold that thought.”
I rush out as I move for the door, greeting the server and tipping him. Walking back into the room with my tray, there is a bottle of champagne and a bottle of sparkling water.
“Champagne?” she mutters, eyes locked on the bottle.
“Why not?” I shrug, popping the cork and filling the flute halfway. Leaning down, I pass her the glass and she thanks me. “Continue,” I say as I twist the cap of my bottle and fill my own glass.
“Erm.” She drops her eyes to her notes, her lips moving silently as she reads. “Oh, yes.” She takes a sip of her champagne.
Why is she so cute? Everything she does raises the sensation, it’s like I am besotted with her.
“What’s the point of practice?” She stares at me, waiting, pen hovered over her paper.
“It’s a crucial point of the weekend, actually.
We can see how the car feels, fine tune if we need to, and check how the car is performing.
We need our cars to be the best of the best and having practice helps that.
If we need to make changes we can, but once the car goes into qualifying, or parc fermé, we cannot touch it. ”
She furrows her brow.
“If we had an accident in qualifying and we damaged the nose of the car, we can change it, but we can’t physically touch or upgrade the car once we’ve passed that point.” I knit my brows.
I watch her with intent as she scribbles the notes down, repeating my words. Glass of champagne in one hand, her fingers curl around the pen in a way I have never seen. The pen slides between her middle and ring finger, hand clasped around and her wrist twisted towards her as she writes.
“Okay, got it.” She takes a large sip. “Then qualifying,” she mutters, tapping her pen on the paper and just as I go to speak, she continues. “Nope, I have all that, made all my notes today.”
I could just sit here and watch her, she fascinates me. Once she gets into her book, I cannot wait to see the way her mind works. My lips twitch as I take a mouthful of my drink.
“Racing.” She jiggles in her seat, like she’s doing a little happy dance. She is cute as fuck.