38. Reed
My heart is somewhere in my throat as Wilder makes his way into the final lap.
I stopped pretending to focus three laps ago, every ounce of my attention is fixed on the timing tower, and the onboard feed of car number thirty-one.
He’s currently number thirteen on the grid, with barely a hair of space between him and the car in front of him.
"Come on," I mutter under my breath, my hands tightening around my camera, as I feel everyone around me teetering on the edge.
They see his determination as much as I do and with the gap in between them being less than a second, we all know he is crazy enough to try and take it.
I watch him throw his car into corners with the kind of commitment that should be illegal, no doubt a skill he learned at The Underground instead of The Academy, but it seems to be working.
The car in front of him goes on the defensive, moving to try and block his way, but somehow Wilder finds space where there shouldn’t be any.
He drives like a man who refuses to believe elimination is an option, and for him, it isn’t.
The final sector arrives, the final corner, and the crowd goes crazy as Wilder swerves around the car in front of him, sliding himself into his spot seconds before they all start crossing the finish line.
One after the other they grab their spot, and I can barely keep up with them all until the timings start flashing on the screens before me.
TARG : 12th - WILDER MILES
For a second I just stare at it in disbelief, before the entire garage erupts around me. He did it, he fucking did it, he made the top twelve.
Out on track, Wilder's voice crackles through the radio, breathless and victorious as the reality finally hits him.
“Fucking top twelve, baby, woo!”
His team begins flooding pit lane to greet him as he completes his cooldown lap.
Casper, Beckett, Knox, and Matteo are jumping up and down like excited puppies, whereas Caden and Bobby are trailing behind them, both silently smirking, while Cooper and Camden Miles hug one another in disbelief.
I don’t move, I stay where I am, focusing my camera on his family, ready to catch all their celebrations perfectly.
The moment his car rolls into the garage, chaos erupts all over again, as Wilder climbs out still buzzing with adrenaline.
He rips off his helmet and tucks it beneath his arm as people immediately swarm him.
One of the guys is shouting, Casper no doubt, but I can’t make it out over all the noise.
He’s nearly tackled to the ground when they all start to dive on him, cameras flashing all over the place, as my own records every second.
I take my own photos, wanting to capture as much of this moment as possible, as he has his moment with his team and his family.
Then all of a sudden his eyes flash around the garage as if in search of something, until they land on mine, and the smile that spreads across his face is so bright it almost physically hurts to look at.
"Blue!" he calls out, shoving off his cousin, and my stomach drops, because he’s moving before I can even tell him not to.
"Did you fucking see that?" he shouts, diving onto me before I can stop him, and I hate how infectious his excitement is.
“Of course I did, it’s my job,” I reply with sarcasm, but he’s too happy to call me out for it.
“Wasn’t I incredible?” His question is completely pointless, nobody knows how talented he is more than him.
My mind floats back to the tiny space he squeezed through to make it. "You were reckless."
Wilder only rolls his eyes at me. "I was incredible,” he states matter of factly, and I shake my head.
"You're impossible."
His grin somehow gets bigger. "I know." Around us, people continue celebrating, while media reps start circling the top twelve racers like sharks. Wilder notices them too and immediately groans. "Fuck, can’t I just celebrate for a few minutes." I’m too lost in him to understand what he means.
"What?"
He gestures vaguely to the press. "I just need five minutes before they start asking stupid questions." I try not to be offended, as I smirk at him and shrug.
"Welcome to being famous."
At that he scoffs. "I hate being famous."
"You absolutely don't."
Before I can say anything else, his hand wraps around my wrist, not hard, and not enough to draw attention or for anyone else to notice but me. It’s just hard enough for him to tug me along with him, as he starts to move swiftly across the garage, heading fully inside.
"Wilder," I start, eyes widening in panic, but still my feet follow him without any push back, as if they have a mind of their own.
"Five minutes,” he grunts again, not bothering to look back to see if anyone is watching us.
"Where are we going?" I don’t know why I ask him that, I can tell he is dragging me toward his dressing room, and my heart starts to race in my chest.
"Somewhere without journalists,” he snaps, and I don’t bother pointing out that technically, part of my job per his dad’s instructions, is to question him too.
The two of us slip away through the back of the garage, before anyone can stop us, the noise of the crowd and the celebrating quickly fading.
He doesn’t stop until we’re in the quiet of his dressing room, and the second the door closes behind us, silence settles over the room.
For a moment neither of us speaks, Wilder is still breathing hard from the race, still running on pure adrenaline, still glowing with victory.
It's ridiculously unfair how beautiful he is, and suddenly I realize I've made a terrible mistake following him here. Because we're alone, completely alone, and when his eyes lock onto mine, I realize just how far gone I am for him.
"I made the top twelve." The words come out softer this time, less celebration, more disbelief, like he's only just starting to understand what he's done, and a smile pulls at my mouth.
"I know." I’m nodding, just so damn proud of him, and there aren’t enough words in the world for me to even try and tell him.
"I actually did it."
"You did."
The look on his face changes as I stare at him, something warm settling beneath the excitement, something that makes my chest tighten painfully.
"I knew you'd be watching,” he says quietly, and my breath catches at how serious he sounds.
"Wilder,” I start, but he shakes his head, taking a step toward me.
"I'm serious." He takes another step closer. "I knew you'd be watching every second."
The room suddenly feels too small, way too small, and my pulse starts climbing as I think about how we lost control here yesterday.
How we gave into our desires, when the only place we can truly go is over a cliff.
Still, he looks at me like he doesn’t care where we end up, as long as he can be here with me now.
It’s both familiar and dangerous, because I know exactly where this is heading, and it’s somewhere we shouldn’t.
Somewhere we are more than this, and I should stop it.
I should absolutely stop it.
Instead I hear myself say, "You drove out of your mind."
His smile softens. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He takes another step, close enough now that I can see the sweat still dampening the edges of his hair. Close enough to smell race fuel lingering on his suit, and to make rational thought impossible.
"Are you proud of me, Blue?"
The question destroys me completely, because nobody has ever looked at me the way Wilder is looking at me right now.
Like my opinion matters, like my approval means something, and emotion clogs the back of my throat.
He grew up with all the love in the world, and still he asks me that as if my response is the only one that matters.
"Very," I admit quietly, the word hanging in the air between us, and suddenly he's moving.
Fast and decisive, the same way he does everything, until his hands are on my face and his mouth is crashing into mine.
There is no time for protest, no time for second guessing, just him and me, and a celebration better than all the rest. The kiss is messy and victorious, fueled entirely by adrenaline and relief, and months of tension neither of us has been able to escape.
I kiss him back before I can talk myself out of it, or remember all the reasons I shouldn’t, because when his lips are on mine, the reasons don't matter.
Not when I can feel him smiling against my mouth, or his hands tightening slightly around my jaw, both possessive and delicate in equal measure.
And certainly not when kissing him is the best thing I have ever felt.
A loud knock on the door has him pulling back with a curse. “Times up, lover boy,” Casper calls through the door, and I bite back a smile.
Wilder is breathing heavily, his eyes now dark with lust and the need for more, but we both know we can’t do this here again.
Everyone is waiting, but for one stolen moment it’s just the two of us, and Wilder is smiling at me like making the top twelve wasn't even the best thing that's happened to him today.
“You better get back out there,” I whisper, and Wilder leans in again to drop a gentle kiss to my mouth.
“I’ll see you tonight?” he asks hopefully, and I’m nodding before I can even think it through, his answering smile worth all the trouble in the world.
“I’ll see you tonight,” I repeat, and this time it’s him who nods, before reaching down to readjust himself.
Then he steps toward the door and rips it open, shutting me inside before I even catch sight of Casper, but not before I hear him tell his cousin to fuck off.
If only the butterflies in my stomach would do the same.
I go through the next couple of hours in a daze, uploading posts, attending the media walks, and watching Wilder celebrate with his family and friends.
It’s not even the last race, yet somehow it feels bittersweet to witness.
By the time I stumble back to my hotel room, I feel like I’m in a daze from the day so far, and it’s not even that late.
As soon as I scan the key to get into my room, I spot Eloise pacing, which she abruptly stops the second I step inside.
“Hey, there you are,” I start with a tired smile, but she cuts me off instantly.
“Okay before you yell at me, I need you to know I didn’t plan this!
” She rushes the words out in one breath, and it’s only now I note how worried she looks.
“It just happened, and I know that’s something people just say sometimes, but it’s true.
And I know it’s a huge risk, but I promise I’ve been careful, and she knows the situation and I promise she won’t tell anyone.
” I’ve never heard her sound so panicked, but honestly none of her words are making sense right now.
“What the hell are you talking about, babe?” I ask, dumping my camera bag down on the bench and walking further into the room.
It’s only then she freezes completely, tilting her head as she looks at me, before she decides something. “You don’t know,” she says with finality, before she shakes her head and questions, “Wilder didn’t tell you?”
At the sound of his name, I’m even more confused. “Tell me what?”
“Damn him, he really is a good guy,” she huffs, taking a deep breath. “I hooked up with Zara Michaels,” she announces calmly, before she adds, “Twice.”
My jaw drops slightly, because out of everything I imagined she was going to say, that definitely wasn't it. "What?" I ask in disbelief, still trying to connect how I missed this, and how Wilder knows but I don’t.
Eloise groans immediately. "See? This is why I didn't want to tell you, I knew you’d make it into a big deal when it’s not." She aims to sound as casual as possible, but I know her better than that.
"No, absolutely not, we're not moving past this." I point at her. "You hooked up with Zara Michaels?" I ask again, still in shock, and she nods.
"Twice."
I stare at her, she stares back, and neither of us says anything for a few seconds. "The Zara Michaels?" I confirm, in case there is a universe where there is another one, who just so happens to be in attendance at the EWC.
"How many Zara Michaels do you know?" she scoffs with a laugh, and I move until I can drop down on the end of my bed.
"The professional racing driver Zara Michaels?" I confirm again, and she rolls her eyes with a nod, "The woman who terrorizes grown men on the circuit for fun?"
Eloise shrugs at that. "She's actually very sweet, and I bet all those men deserve it.”
She’s right, they absolutely do.
"How did this even happen?" Her cheeks turn pink at my question, something I have never seen on her, and I have known Eloise since we were kids.
This is very much not a normal occurrence, not the hookup, that is normal, but the blushing is very new.
"Oh my God,” I gasp, when I realize what this means.
"What?"
"You like her."
"I do not.” Her denial doesn’t sound even the slightest bit real, and I shake my head with a smile.
"You absolutely do."
"I barely know her."
I raise an eyebrow. "You know her well enough to hook up with her twice."
"That doesn't mean anything." The second the words leave her mouth, we both know she's lying, because her expression gives her away immediately.
“Us even having this conversation tells me it means something,” I say softly, and her entire body deflates as she drops onto the bed beside me.
“Not like it matters,” she mutters, and I fucking hate how defeated she sounds.
“Yeah, I know,” I reply, pulling her hand into mine as she drops her head onto my shoulder, and we both just sit in silence for a moment.
It’s in that silence that something settles in my mind.
“But no one said we can’t have fun while we’re here,” I start slowly, making her lift her head to meet my gaze.
“Like you said, if she knows the situation and won’t say anything, no harm in having a little fun right? ”
“Is that what you're telling yourself about Wilder?”
“No.” Yes.
One eyebrow lifts slowly, and I groan, because the truth is, I have been telling myself that every day. That it’s just temporary, a bit of fun, that it means nothing, but the problem is that the more time I spend with Wilder, the harder that is to believe.
Neither of us says anything for a few moments, and eventually, Eloise rests her head back on my shoulder. "We're both idiots,” she sighs, and I smile.
She's right, we are idiots, because despite having fun while we’re here, that’s all we get.
A few stolen moments, and a few people who make our impossible situations feel a little less impossible.
The thought should make me feel better, but instead, all I can think about is Wilder's smile after the race, and how much harder it's becoming to imagine letting him go.