Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Caleb
Jo’s text comes quite late.
Can’t wait.
And now I can’t wait.
At a certain point, I realised that despite our best intentions, we’ve already taken the leap, and all our careful self-denial means is that we’re shouldering the risk without any of the reward.
If things go sideways between us now because of the relationship we’ve already developed, he won’t top the podium and I’ll still lose my job, and then what will the point of any of it have been?
We’ve been trying to pretend we’re still just friends, but the only people we’re fooling is us.
I’m so tired of wanting him and not being able to touch him.
I’m so tired of the ache inside me when he skewers me with one of his heavy-lidded intense stares.
I’m so tired of saying no when I want to say yes.
He’s no Brad, of that I’m certain. And there are never any guarantees in life, are there?
What would be the point of driving laps around a track if we already knew the outcome?
I don’t work in F1 racing because it’s predictable; I do this job because it’s exciting.
It curls my toes and sets off fireworks in my belly – just like Johannes.
Ian would know, he’s been here forever, but is there a subtle way to ask him? It’s not like we’re a small organisation, so I could be talking about anyone. He doesn’t need to know it’s Johannes.
‘Hey.’ I drop into the seat next to Ian as he sips his morning coffee, looking way more awake than I feel.
‘Morning,’ he replies simply.
It’s just the two of us in our little cubby in the garage, both early for the pre-race engineer briefing, but I still keep my voice low. ‘Uh, could I ask you something?’
He lowers his tablet and looks at me. ‘Yeah, sure. How can I help?’
He’s seen this team through almost three-hundred races so he really knows his shit, but the more I think about it, the more I’m worried he’s going to dob me in straight away.
But I need his advice or at least his factual opinion.
‘I was just wondering if you knew about any rules in our contracts or within the team’s code of behaviour that would prevent us, um, fraternising? ’
Fraternising? Who do I think I am? The way he’s looking at me makes me think I’ve definitely screwed this up. His brows knit together in an almost disgusted way.
And then I replay my words again. ‘Oh shit, not us as in me and you, just like, say, two people within the RBF team?’
‘Well,’ he draws it out like he’s really thinking about how to phrase his response.
He’s probably relieved that I’m not trying to seduce his married ass.
‘I don’t think there’s anything in our contracts or behaviour code that strictly prevents it, so it’s not going to get you fired, but I wouldn’t recommend it. ’
As fast as he raises my hopes, he dashes them. ‘Why?’
‘Because it would impact the dynamic, and if you two broke up, that would be bad for the team.’ Why does it sound like he knows who I’m talking about when asking this question?
‘It’s just a hypothetical, of course.’
‘Of course, but Caleb, my advice is don’t do it. I know it’s exciting right now because you’re caught up in the rush of it, but it’ll be a different story when it’s over and a dark cloud hangs over you at RBF. They may not be able to fire you for it, but they can hold it against you.’
This is exactly what I said to Johannes back at his apartment. I’ve just been conveniently ignoring my own good sense because I don’t want it to be true. They won’t sack Johannes. Race engineers are replaceable, but superstar drivers are not.
I get all of my prep work done in record time, before declining dinner with a gang of the engineers. Ian sighs disapprovingly when I apologise for already having plans, like he knows I’m going against his advice. But I don’t care. The only thing I regret is asking him for it in the first place.
My mom calls me on the drive back to the engineers’ base after work and I’m practically giddy as I’m pulling into the car park to start getting ready for this date.
‘Hey, baby, how’s your day been? Up to anything fun tonight or just work?’ she asks.
I’m almost tempted to tell her I’m going to a music festival with a super-hot guy who I’m head over heels about, but it’s too soon. God knows, if I mention a man, she’ll have the wedding planner booked before we hang up the phone.
‘Not much, Ma. Got a dinner with some work people and that’s pretty much it.’ It’s not a total lie.
‘I’m jealous. I bet you’re eating so well out there. Make sure to send me and your dad some pictures.’
‘Of course. How was your day?’
She launches into a story about having the youngest grandkids over today, what Dad’s been up to in the garden, and their plans for the evening.
‘We’ve got Gregg and Kelsea and the kids coming for dinner, too.
Dad’s doing ribs and I’m making Mikey his favourite mac and cheese.
’ She explains that fourteen-year-old Mikey has decided to become vegetarian and my meat-loving family are still struggling to adapt to it.
It’s been a big affair in the Hughes household.
I listen to her on speaker as I pick out an outfit for the evening.
It’s still warm out there, but I also know that it could get chillier later so I go for knee-length, beige chino-style shorts with a white T-shirt and drape a hunter-green cardigan around my shoulder like a shawl.
I’m just sad that I don’t have a pair of cowboy boots on me.
Lord knows, I have enough pairs back home in the US.
‘What time’s your dinner?’ Mom asks as I rummage through my wash bag for my favourite cologne. It’s tough to even get a couple of spritzes out as there’s hardly anything left, but after a vigorous shake I manage to coat myself in it.
‘Six. I’m just getting dressed now. When you have a chance, Mom, could you check the washroom cabinet in my bathroom to see if I have any Tom Ford Ombre Leather. I’m running out so need to know if I should grab another at duty-free or wait for winter break.’
‘Of course, baby. Any more thoughts about getting your own place?’ It’s her second favourite question after when I’m going to find a husband.
I get it. I’m approaching my mid-thirties but it’s not like I live in their basement eating chips and playing video games. There’s just no point getting a place I’ll spend all of a couple of months in each year.
‘At some point, Ma. Just a bit pointless right now.’ We’ve had this conversation so many times that my reply is automatic.
‘The Davidsons are moving into a retirement home after Christmas. I’ll send you the listing when it goes up for sale.’ I roll my eyes, thankful she can’t see.
What would I do with a four-bedroom house?
I’m not even sure I could afford it on my salary alone, since I’m still technically in grad school.
She’s living in dreamland. ‘You do that, Ma.’ I’ll take it just to have a little snoop at what the insides look like, but not much else.
‘I’m going to have to head off, though, as I don’t want to be late. ’
‘Have a great night, baby. Don’t forget the pictures. Love you.’
‘I won’t. Love you, too, Ma.’ We hang up and with a last once-over of myself in the mirror I’m out the door.
It’s not that far to drive when I’ve got Luke Combs getting me in the mood for the night, and even when I have to park a bit further away from the restaurant I find it hard to be annoyed, because my whole body is thrumming with excitement for the evening ahead.
I’m almost giddy on the walk up to where we’ve agreed to get dinner, close to where the festival is taking place.
I’m about to cross the road to the restaurant, when I spot a little stall selling glowsticks, feather boas and cowboy hats and I can’t resist. They’re plastic and flimsy and way overpriced at ten euros each, but I buy two hats before I can stop myself.
There’s an idiotic grin pulling at my cheeks when I enter the restaurant and spot him already at our table. The second he sees me his eyes light up, and it makes my heart turn over. He spots the hats tucked under my arm and he laughs.
‘I, uh, can see my … friend,’ I tell the hostess, who lets me make my own way over there.
‘Is that what I think it is?’ Johannes asks, gesturing to the purple plastic.
‘I thought they were exactly what we needed for tonight.’ I pop them down next to him in the mini booth and blush at the fact that he can’t seem to take his eyes off me. It’s been so long since I’ve been aesthetically appreciated.
‘You look really good, Caleb. I’m so used to seeing you in an RBF jumper or polo; the green looks good on you.’
I was told once, by my mom, that green complements pale skin and ginger hair, so I silently thank her for that.
‘So do you, but then you could wear a trash bag and pull it off.’
‘I once did for Halloween. I’m sure Harper has pictures somewhere.’
‘Like you need your ego feeding with your millions of followers and international modelling campaigns. You have to know how gorgeous you are.’ You only have to scroll for five seconds through Johannes’s Insta comments to see thousands of people willing to tell him so.
‘It sounds better coming from you.’ His grin slips into something genuine and the way my stomach knots is ridiculous. It’s so good to see him smiling again after how pained he looked just a few months ago. I can’t help responding and I feel my cheeks flush with happiness.
‘Now, what do you fancy?’
‘I’m assuming you isn’t the right answer?’ His tone is so smooth, like butter wouldn’t melt, as he looks me up and down. It’s like we both know that tonight contains an implicit acceptance that we’re no longer pretending to be just friends. It certainly feels like a date.
‘I meant from the menu.’ But it’s too late. My face is on fire and I have to fan my cheeks with the menu.
‘Mmm, of course you did.’ He grins. ‘I’m thinking of having the biggest bowl of pasta you can imagine.
Coming to Italy every year is absolutely awful for my diet and my nutritionist hates me, but I can’t stop myself.
’ I don’t think he has anything to worry about regarding his diet.
I’ve seen him naked, plus I know all his physical stats for the car. His body is magnificent.
In the end, though, he opts for steak frites whilst I go for a pizza with a burrata in the middle, because that just sounds stupidly delicious right now and nobody has my physical stats recorded on some computer program in the office.
‘Busy day?’ he asks as I settle back into my chair, our ankles brushing under the small table for two. My instinct is to pull away, but he locks my foot in place between his and even this small touch has goosebumps running up my leg.
‘You know how it is, race-week fun. The days before the race are very data driven, but I love Monza. One of my favourite tracks to watch you drive.’
‘Is that so?’ He strokes a foot up the side of my leg. He’s not playing fair. We have a whole festival to get through this evening and now all I want is to drag him back to my car and finish what we started that night at his penthouse.
‘You’re really fishing for compliments tonight, aren’t you? You’re very needy.’
‘I don’t need to when you’re so quick to give them to me.’
I shake my head at his cocky tone, but I don’t miss the way his face lights up when he hears all the praise from me.
‘How was your photoshoot?’ I ask, I’ve already seen the helmet he’s wearing this weekend and it’s nuts. He loves a crazy helmet, but this is the brightest one I’ve seen so far. The fans are going to go wild for it.
‘Not bad at all. The interviews this morning were harder than the shoot. It was for the documentary, and they love to ask me about Kian and Harper and I’m bored of it. Like, I want to talk about my racing not their love lives.’
I bet the documentary crew are gutted those two got married in secret and without the camera crew there. I bet they’d pay good money for footage of the event. I hope they don’t get it, because I would hate for Johannes’s sad, grey face that day to be broadcast all over the world.
‘Their love story brought in a whole new audience to F1 and they want to capitalise on that. I’m not saying it’s right, but it’s good for the diversity and growth of the sport.’
‘Harper’s their man to talk to, then. Honestly, I didn’t even know the wedding was happening until like just before.’
‘That sounds chaotic and crazy stressful.’
‘I can’t imagine trying to plan a wedding in like a week while my home country race is taking place and also trying to keep it secret from the millions of people who adore them.’
‘From the pictures I’ve seen in the magazine spread, it looks like it was a gorgeous day.’ I don’t mention the album that Elijah showed us or how sad I thought Johannes looked. I want tonight to be perfect.
Something flickers across Johannes’s face. There’s a pinch between his brows and his eyes drop from where he was holding my gaze in conversation. ‘It was,’ he finally agrees, but doesn’t expand on it.
The food arrives and we settle into a steady stream of conversation about how it all tastes, his highlights of being in Italy over the years and who we’re most looking forward to seeing tonight.
Johannes gets the bill after I told him the tickets were on me and that I wouldn’t accept any payment for them. On the way out, I slip on my cardigan, glad I brought it as the air has turned a little chilly.
‘Hey, before we set off, I think we have to put these on.’ He grabs the hats from where I’ve tucked them under my arm, and positions his securely on his head, before popping mine on, too.
His fingers stroke down my jawline making a beeline for the string to tighten it under my chin. My breath hitches. He really is the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.