Chapter 9 #2
They turned and smiled like dutiful soldiers as Veronica owned the room on her way over. Her designer dress and the way she wore it turned quite a few heads. “Popular place,” she said as she arrived at their table.
“Cassidy finds us all the best spots,” Delaney offered.
“Well, welcome to Singapore. How are the accommodations?”
“I don’t have any complaints,” Marissa said, “but I do have four twin beds in my room.”
“I have five,” Delaney offered.
Veronica nodded. “Miranda does have a knack for choosing the most interesting locations.”
You can say that again, Reese thought. She also had an army of twin beds and a feeling that Veronica had upgraded her own lodging and was likely at a five-star hotel, sipping top-shelf cocktails.
It also made her wonder where Sloane was staying, which of course made her imagine Sloane’s hotel room, and then Sloane’s bed, which was a train of thought she needed to get in front of before it spiraled out of control in the presence of a room full of people she was supposed to be socializing with.
“Well,” Veronica said, touching the table, “don’t leave without trying the pandan chiffon cake. It’s a national treasure. In fact, I’ll send over a couple. My treat.”
“Thank you,” Reese said.
“That’s incredibly thoughtful,” Marissa chimed in.
“My pleasure,” Veronica said. “All I ask is for one amazing race weekend to show the world who we are. Think we can manage it?”
“That won’t be a problem,” Reese said and exchanged a fist bump with Delaney, who would be right there with her, aiming for more points for Ravensport.
“I think they’re ganging up on us,” Marissa told Cassidy.
Veronica grinned. “A little competition is healthy. I’d better get back to my dinner companions.
Don’t stay out too late.” But she said it in a singsongy tone that said she thought they might anyway.
Not Reese. She wanted to be rested and clear-eyed when it came time to fight for starting positions tomorrow.
While her friends waited for the desserts, Reese slipped away from the table, weaving through clusters of diners until she reached the dimly lit hallway near the restrooms. The hum of conversation faded behind her, replaced by the soft splash of a fountain and the distant clatter of dishes.
She pushed open the door and stepped inside, letting it click softly behind her.
For a moment, she just stood in front of the mirror, tugging at a stray lock of hair and taking a slow breath. The humidity had tousled her hair, her cheeks still warm from laughing too hard, and she allowed herself a small grin. Alone, at last.
The stall next to her opened. Reese froze.
Sloane stepped out, calm, poised, everything Reese knew her to be. But there was a spark in her eyes. She moved to the sink beside Reese, glancing at her reflection before flicking a smile to Reese.
“Practicing your prerace look, or just checking if Singapore’s humidity has defeated you?” Sloane teased.
Reese blinked, caught off guard. “Uh … both?” she said, forcing a laugh. “Humidity always wins.”
Sloane raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Always? I’m pretty sure you could survive a monsoon with that hair and still look like you own the place.”
Reese smirked, leaning slightly closer to the mirror. “That’s a very specific compliment. I’m flattered … and slightly intimidated.”
Sloane shrugged, eyes twinkling. “Good. Intimidation is part of my charm.”
Reese’s grin widened. “Ah, so that’s what I’ve been missing all this time.”
Sloane laughed softly, the sound low and easy, and leaned against the counter. “Don’t tell me you’re finally admitting I was right about something.”
“Nope. I’d have to hand over my hardhead card, and that’s not likely to happen.” A pause, as they smiled at each other. Reese turned to the mirror and attempted to fix her hair. “This humidity is a lot.”
Sloane leaned slightly, peering at Reese’s hair. “You know, I kind of like the tousled look. Makes you look dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Reese echoed. “I don’t think anyone’s using that word about me yet.”
Sloane grinned, a slow, deliberate twist of her lips. “A day to put on the calendar.”
“For a lot of reasons.” Oh, she was just speaking freely now. Sloane had yet to turn and go, and that said something. “I guess we should get back to our respective tables, but it would be nice if we had dinner together sometime. I’d love to hear about your racing days. War stories.”
Sloane’s smile dimmed a touch, and Reese wondered what had caused it. “Tell you what. You win a race, and you’re on.”
“Wait. Really?”
“Yep.”
Reese turned to Sloane fully. “Let me make sure I understand this clearly. I take P1 in a race, and you’ll agree to have dinner with me. Just the two of us?”
“Yes. The answer is yes.” She didn’t hesitate.
“I can’t decide if you’re agreeing because you think I’ll win or because you’re confident I won’t.”
Sloane touched her shoulder on the way to the door. “Sometimes a little mystery is good.”
Reese laughed outright this time, the tension from earlier replaced by warmth—and a thrill. “Well … I’ll take my chances. And Sloane?”
Sloane’s eyes lingered a beat longer than necessary. “Yes?”
“I’m definitely going to win.”
Her expression was dialed to I’ll believe it when I see it, but Reese had never been so fired up about a race in her entire career. “Enjoy your dinner, Reese.”
“You, too, Sloane.”
Reese wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it, but just before Sloane disappeared back into the restaurant, her gaze drifted from Reese’s shoulders to her toes.
“She just checked me out,” Reese murmured to the empty restroom before following Sloane back into the restaurant with a smile on her face.
Things were starting to get so very interesting.
The visor of Reese’s helmet caught the reflection of a thousand city lights as she settled her car into the third grid slot. She’d take P3. She could work with that starting position.
Singapore at night always looked like a celebration, unless you were strapped into a race car with your pulse hammering harder than the engine beneath you. Reese took a deep breath to settle her nerves while still hanging onto the adrenaline she’d need to advance her position.
Julie’s voice filled her helmet. “Clean start. Be patient with Marissa ahead of you.”
Reese nodded out of habit, even though Julie couldn’t see her.
Patience wasn’t exactly her defining trait, especially not tonight.
Not with the deal she’d made with Sloane humming under her skin like electricity.
A win meant an extended conversation. One-on-one time in a dimly lit restaurant.
A chance to get to know each other. Hold eye contact.
The thought alone sharpened every sense.
Five red lights came on one at a time. Reese gripped the wheel. Then they went out.
She launched hard, tucking in behind Marissa as the cars threaded through the impossibly tight first corners.
The walls blurred past, inches from her tires.
Fuck, this was tight. Singapore never forgave overconfidence, and Marissa drove like she planned to block every inch of track for the entire race.
Why did she have to be so fucking good? If Reese didn’t like her so much, she’d really hate her right now.
But a quarter of the way into the race, Reese noticed it, the faint twitch of Marissa’s rear tires on the corner exit, the kind that meant her grip was fading.
Julie must have caught it, too. “She’s sliding. Set her up for Turn 7.”
“You got it.”
Reese waited one more lap, letting the tension coil through her shoulders.
The humidity pressed in. The heat was almost unbearable in the car.
She’d been climate training for two weeks to prepare for this.
Time for some self-talk: just another day on the exercise bike in a ninety-five-degree room.
She just needed to turn off her brain and its reaction.
Though it was probably the most uncomfortable she’d ever been inside a car. Singapore didn’t play.
When the moment came, she took it without hesitation.
Marissa drifted wide by a fraction, and Reese dove for the inside. The overtake was quick and almost surgical, done before Marissa had time to defend. She’d buy her dinner to apologize. Hell, she’d buy them all dinner if this went her way.
“P2.”
“Let’s go,” she called back to Julie.
“Nice one, Reese. One more. Let’s go get Danielle.”
She focused on the turquoise-and-white car ahead of her. Only Danielle Todd remained in her forward view. As always, she was fierce, stubborn, blisteringly fast. The kind of driver who’d rather scrape the paint off her car or run them both into a wall than give up a position. Well, fuck her.
Reese allowed herself a small smile in the absolutely sweltering heat. Game on.
A few laps later, chaos erupted behind them. Two midfield cars tangled, one spinning into the barrier in a shower of sparks. Yellow flags waved instantly, and the safety car rolled out.
Julie didn’t miss a beat. “Safety car. Box now. Fresh tires. Box. Box.”
Reese obeyed, pulling into the pit lane. Her stop was slick and fast, and she rejoined the track glued to Danielle’s rear wing. Danielle hadn’t pitted — a gamble that might pay off or might crumble. How much faith did she have in those tires?
Julie’s voice steadied her. “She’s losing traction.
Trust me. She’ll slip up. Wait for it.” Patience seemed to be a running theme these days, and though it was hard for Reese, she was working on it.
She silenced the urge to make an immediate move and waited.
Another five seconds passed. Another three. This was killing her.
And then Danielle made the mistake.
Coming out of a slow corner, she went for the throttle too early. Her car snapped sideways for the briefest moment. Not a crash, but just enough of a stumble to crack the door open.
Reese made her move.
They tore down the narrow straight wheel-to-wheel, the walls crowding in as if daring them to shift an inch. Reese held her line with icy focus. Danielle had to back out or risk the wall. Sweat ran down her face as she gripped the wheel.
Finally, Reese pulled ahead.
The last laps blurred into a mix of adrenaline and bright city lights.
Was this actually happening? Was she this close to winning her first race in Formula Next?
Reese managed her tires, her breathing, her nerves, all enhanced by the thought of the people who would be proud of her.
Her mother. God, she couldn’t wait to talk to her. Julie. Her team. Sloane.
When the checkered flag waved, she let out a raw, involuntary shout.
Julie laughed in her ear, warm and relieved. “That’s a win, Reese. A damn good one.”
Reese slowed on the cooldown lap, her breath catching in her throat. Her voice lowered, almost a confession to herself. “I did it. I actually did it.”
The very next thought? Guess she was getting that dinner.