34. Reed #2
Butterflies swarm my insides as I feel his stare still burning into me, and thankfully his father directs him into his car to get ready for his warm up laps.
It’s the only thing that allows me to take my next breath, slipping my phone into my pocket so I can focus back on work.
Or at least pretend to, because focusing has become significantly harder since Eloise arrived, carrying a diamond ring, and my future, in a velvet box.
The paddock is alive around me, with mechanics moving with military precision, and engineers hunched over their data screens.
All the team managers have now ordered their drivers into their cars, and are already barking instructions through their headsets.
Normally I thrive in this kind of environment, the louder and busier the better, it helps me stay on track.
I know the schedule by heart, but still I feel like I am second guessing myself, because every time I feel like I am in control, a new image flashes through my mind.
A sparkling engagement ring, my father’s smug face, a June wedding, and then Wilder. Always fucking Wilder.
I force my focus to the screen, watching him get settled in his car, as his team runs their last checks before letting them go.
He’s talking with them back and forth, and even from here I can tell he is in his element.
There is none of the panic from the lodge, none of the tension from last night, there is just him and his car, just how it should be.
The grandstands are packed with screaming fans, some who have no doubt traveled across the world just to be here.
The fans are waving flags and signs everywhere, and the commentators talk nonstop about their predictions for the outcome of today.
I’ve heard Wilder’s name multiple times, some sarcastic comments about his background and the fact he’s a rookie, but Wilder wasn’t fazed in the slightest.
I find my place beside the rest of the team, camera in hand, ready to catch every moment.
For some reason my heart is pounding. I mean, it always does when I watch him race, the excitement too overwhelming for it not to.
Except today it feels different, it’s a bigger track, a bigger stage, a bigger chance of failure.
Thirty-six drivers, that’s thirty-six chances for disaster, and my eyes follow Wilder’s car like an addict looking for his next fix.
The next sixty minutes pass in a blur, with two crashes and another near miss, but through it all, Wilder remains focused and in control.
I can hear several engineers swearing through their headsets, and somewhere behind me sponsors cheer, but my eyes track only his car.
My hands are shaking as we go into the final lap, noting his 9th place of the circuit with utter disbelief, along with everyone else.
If he keeps this position, he will not only make it to the next race, but he will prove everyone wrong too.
“He’s going to fucking do it,” Casper curses from somewhere in my vicinity, and I nod in disbelief, eyes glued to the screen.
The seconds keep ticking down and the cars keep flying, and Wilder keeps going despite all the odds.
When the finish line comes into view his family start losing their minds, and I pull out my second camera and make sure I am catching two sets of content.
One for Wilder’s social media, and one so he and his family can remember this moment forever.
Cheers explode around me as cars start flying across the finish line, and I can’t help but laugh a little as everyone in the garage goes insane.
I keep my camera rolling through the cooldown and his return to the garage, capturing every second I can as he reunites with his team.
The energy is explosive, and considering the press interviews aren’t for another two hours, I start packing up my stuff, needing to get an exclusive quote before anyone else does.
“I’ll be back,” I tell Eloise, shouting over the noise, and she nods, looking completely overjoyed at what just happened, as I tap out a message telling Wilder to meet me in his changing room.
My ears are still ringing when I make it inside, the noise barely dimmed, as I push inside his dressing room and dump my bag on the table. I quickly start going through some of the images I took, flagging the best ones, knowing I will need to pull together a post quickly.
To my surprise, it isn’t long until the door flies open, the noise following him, but he shuts it out by slamming the door behind him. “Holy shit,” he chokes out, his body clearly still running high on adrenaline, and I move toward him instantly.
His eyes meet mine as I cross the room, and I shake my head with a smile as I reach him. “Wilder, that was completely insane,” I start, but he cuts me off by slamming his lips to mine in a rough kiss.
I startle completely, my body freezing before it can register what is going on.
He’s kissing me, he’s kissing me again, and suddenly every worry in my head evaporates.
There is no ring, no deadline, just me and him and the rest of the season, and it’s only now I realize it, I need him.
I need this, I need us, because if I have to force myself into a life I hate, then I want to go down screaming with him, and only him.
Registering my lack of reaction he pulls back instantly. “Fuck, sorry, I shouldn’t have…”
This time I’m the one to cut him off, grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling his mouth back to mine.
He groans deeply, spinning us around so he can slam me back against the door, molding his body to mine.
He’s hot and heavy against me, a welcome weight as I try to kiss him back as hard as I need, but it’s not enough.
I want more, need more, and he’s the only one who can give it to me.
I pull back, panting heavily as I take in his lust-drenched green stare. “Fuck me,” I demand, kissing him again. “Fuck me, Wilder, take me, own me, I just need to feel you inside of me,” I plead, making his stare darken with every word, until his hand comes up around my throat.
“I fucking love this pretty mouth, Blue.”
Then his lips are back on mine and he slides the lock on the door into place, so the only person who can get to me is him.