Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Caleb
For the first time in more than five years, we are in France for a Grand Prix.
I wish I could say that the lead-up has been productive, except that’s not the case. It’s been heavily overrun with filming for the documentary series.
The handful of race engineers who are being featured in this episode sit around in the documentary crew’s motor home, waiting to be told what to do.
This isn’t a good use of my time. We need to be studying the track – which my driver has never driven – and practising on the simulator to get data to feed into the model, but here we are.
At least I have the company of both Cole and Ash. Cole is doing a whole piece about being the race engineer for the legend that is Kian Walker. I feel like there are going to be a lot of tears while watching that bit.
Ash kicks back in his chair. ‘How am I already this tired on a Wednesday of race week?’ He says between yawns.
Naturally, we yawn, too, which leads to the three of us laughing at each other.
‘Honestly, I feel exhausted. A cameraman followed me and Johannes on a run yesterday morning.’ It was the most frustrating and pointless run we’ve ever completed, considering we had to keep stopping so they could set up each shot.
We even re-took a section because Johannes stumbled on a loose rock. I’d have kept it in for comedic relief.
‘Don’t,’ Ash starts. ‘Harper’s enjoying it all way too much. He keeps pranking me every time the cameras are rolling.’
Now that doesn’t surprise me at all.
One by one, we’re called into the filming room. I am left till last.
When I enter a room with a green screen and I’m asked to sit on a small black stool in front of many cameras, lights and panels, I suddenly feel very nervous, indeed. They tell me not to be – helpful advice, thanks – and I’m asked to introduce myself.
‘I’m Caleb Hughes, race engineer for Johannes Müller, RBF, for the 2027 season.’ I click the action board shut and when they call cut, I’m already laughing at how unreal this feels. ‘Was that okay?’ I ask.
‘Yep, first guy to do it in one take today. We’re happy with that,’ one of the women co-ordinating the shoot says. ‘Ash told us his name was Ash Harper and then laughed for a solid three minutes before we could go again.’
I hope they put together a blooper reel, even if it’s just for social media.
‘We’re going to throw a few questions at you, nothing tough, just the basics about your job. You good to go?’ another of the co-ordinators asks.
I nod, shuffling around on the uncomfortable stool and trying not to let the big light aimed at my face put me off.
‘Tell us about your journey to becoming a race engineer.’
Okay, easy. I launch into a lengthy discussion about my love for the sport – about my brothers only liking football so I was the odd one out.
About my degree, my masters, the PhD I’m working on, and my time as an engineer within the broader RBF team – and how I worked my way up.
I know it’ll be cut down to be more of a soundbite, but it’s still kinda fun to really lay out how far I’ve come since watching my first race as a kid.
I’m a little breathless and I can feel my cheeks blushing as I finish my spiel. I wish I could control it. I hate how it gives away how nervous I feel.
They ask some more questions about the team, the season, the competition, the car – nothing I can’t handle.
‘Last one, I promise,’ says the interviewer, whose name, I’ve learned, is Cassie. ‘What’s it like working with Johannes?’
That’s the most obvious – but also the most loaded – question they could ask.
So many answers filter through my brain.
So many that I’m not allowed to say. I want to tell them that he’s the best man I’ve ever met.
That he makes the job easy in the best ways, and so fucking hard in the worst ways that I can’t let myself think about.
That he cares very deeply for the people he holds closest. That I can tell when he’s being too hard on himself just by the way his eyebrows pull inwards.
That he’s a sensational cook. That I dream every night of his mouth on my cock, and it makes me so hard it hurts.
That I would do anything – literally anything – to make sure he never again cries like his heart is being torn from his chest.
‘Caleb?’
Shit.
My face floods with heat. I must be beat-red.
Shit, shit, shit.
I haven’t said anything in like a whole minute.
Cassie repeats the question, and I pretend to consider it, as though I simply misheard it the first time.
‘Johannes is one of the most incredible drivers I’ve been lucky enough to witness on track, and working with him is a dream.’
Does that sound like I’m gushing? It definitely sounds like I’m gushing. Shit.
‘He gives great feedback, he’s always willing to listen and he’s not afraid to try new things.
We trust each other – the whole team, I mean – so he can take those big risks that see him set records and top the podium.
I’ve only been working with him for the last six months, but I hope we have many more years together. ’
My throat feels a little raw and I reach for my water bottle to wash down the emotion that seems to have been drawn out of me.
The big light flicks off, which takes some of the heat out of the room, but my face still feels like it’s burning. Did I say too much? Fuck. I’m so in my head that I miss what Cassie says as they start to fold up equipment.
‘Sorry?’ I ask, this time genuinely needing her to repeat herself.
‘I said we’re all good.’
I hop off the hard stool, stifling a groan because one ass cheek has fallen asleep.
‘The team will show you where to go for the next part – the technical panel with the other race engineers,’ Cassie says.
* * *
The technical panel passes in a blur, and I hardly remember any of it.
‘You wanna grab some lunch with us?’ Cole asks as we are finally released from the motorhome for the day.
‘There’s this deli place we passed on the main road out of Marseille,’ says Ash.
‘Fuck, yeah!’ I reply, as we push through the double doors into a very warm French afternoon.
‘Or not…’ Cole comments, his eyes sliding to the lamppost holding up the guy who haunts my dreams every night.
‘We’ll catch you later.’ Ash claps his hands on my shoulders and gives me a small shove in Johannes’s direction.
Do they know? I feel a sudden wash of panic, but I tell myself even a blind man could see there was chemistry between us in Monaco. It doesn’t mean they know about the … other stuff.
But, then, I don’t care, because he’s here. Even if we can’t be anything other than friends, he’s waiting for me. I can’t even comprehend why that means so much to me.
‘Thought you might be hungry,’ he says. ‘Filming can be more exhausting than an actual race. So much waiting around.’ He’s not wrong – I’ve hardly had to use my brain at all today and yet I feel like I could fall asleep standing up.
‘Did you come all this way just to take me out for lunch?’ I tease.
‘I had a meeting with some of the higher-ups and my agent – contract negotiations, ya know.’ He shrugs, but there’s a small smile tugging at his lips, so it must have gone well.
Apart from Spielberg and Silverstone, he’s having a good season and I don’t see any reason why RBF would not want to keep him on. Nils already has two more years on his contract here and him and Jo work together as perfect teammates. Why sacrifice that?
Unless he gets caught acting unprofessionally with another member of the team. Especially his race engineer, I quickly remind myself. Although, I’m pretty sure that I would fare worse if we ever did do anything stupid and management found out.
They aren’t going to get rid of their star driver. Especially if he manages to bring home the championship this year.
‘So, lunch?’ He suggests again pulling me out of the panic I could easily spiral into if I think too much about it. I really can’t afford to risk this job. That’s a thought that needs to stay front of my mind.
‘Uh.’ I should say no. I really should say no, I should go back to my room and do some more tape prep for this weekend, but then my stomach grumbles and the pull towards Johannes is too strong for me to resist. ‘Yeah, lunch sounds good.’
He tells me about a spot where they make fresh focaccia, complaining that he’s never been able to make it as well himself.
‘Maybe when the season’s over, I’ll get back into bread making. Kian cooks these amazing, land to table meals, and when I was there last month I was inspired to get back into fresh eating. I mean, Kian literally went out and retrieved the eggs we had for breakfast one morning.’
‘You want a farm?’ I can’t quite picture Johannes, all manicured and stylish, working with animals.
He shakes his head, laughing around a bite of a very meaty-looking sandwich. ‘No, not at all. I don’t wanna have to get mucky every day. I mean, like, making things from scratch sounds good to me.’
I can’t help picturing his strong hands as he guided me in the use of the pasta machine and how ridiculously sexy he looked doing it. I swear, I remember every popping vein in his hands and forearms.
We finish the sandwiches and reluctantly start to head back.
‘Thanks for lunch,’ I say as we linger on the path outside the café. ‘You need a lift back?’
‘Nah.’ He shakes his head. ‘I’m meeting Nils to help him pick out some clothes.
Maybe he’ll actually wear something that doesn’t look two sizes too big if I choose it for him.
I’ll see you at the track.’ He goes in for a full hug at the same time I do – a sideways bro hug – and the confusion and clash of body parts means there’s some fumbling before his head falls to my shoulder and he holds me tight.
It’s the least ‘just friends’ hug I’ve ever received from someone.
His fingers dance along the dip in my spine and it makes me clench my hands around the back of his shirt.
If someone, anyone, who recognised him sees us like this, it would not be a big leap to assume something’s going on between us.
Which is why I have to break free from the hug before I do something stupid like wind my arms around his neck and kiss him.
‘See you tomorrow,’ I call out, abruptly abandoning him as I power-walk back to my car.
* * *
I try to limit our alone interactions for the rest of the weekend, but it does nothing to stop my feelings growing. This is bad. Really bad.
And it’s even worse watching him fly off the blocks in pole position, several car lengths already between himself and Harper as they go into turn one.
It’s chaos a little further back as Nils overtakes Elijah to take that shock eighth place qualifying position.
Elijah’s gone from that big-sprint win and those huge, eight extra points, to struggling to hold on to any points at all in this race.
It shows just how fast things can change in racing and why it makes such an exciting spectator sport.
Just to make things worse for Elijah, he drops it into turn eleven on lap eight and very quickly ends up in the barriers. It annihilates the six-second lead Johannes has built up over Harper as the safety car is deployed whilst Elijah’s car is rescued and we all bunch up again on the track.
Johannes grumbles frustratedly, even as he checks in to make sure Elijah’s okay. We decide not to pit, just eight laps into the grand prix, despite the fact it would be a cheap pit stop, and the pack of five trailing behind us follows suit.
I listen in to Elijah’s radio from just after the crash, and the scream of ‘Noooooo’ when he realises he can’t reverse out of this with the damage he’s sustained is bloodcurdling.
He will be all too aware of how much this hurts his championship title challenge, especially with how vigorously both Johannes and Harper are battling now.
Luckily, that’s the only chaotic part of the race and Johannes maintains the lead for pretty much every lap, except when he pits before Harper. Just two laps later when Harper pits, Jo steals it straight back.
Harper goes for a late lunge on turn one of the very last lap, but runs out of straight to make the move, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Johannes’s defensive game is nothing short of flawless as he blocks all Harper’s last-ditch attempts to overtake.
Watching Jo on top of that podium, the biggest grin on his face as he kisses the trophy, is almost painful. I have to look away or I’m going to end up falling into big, stupid love with him.