46. Reed
The first couple of days in Las Vegas disappear in a PRI-shaped blur.
The media days are even crazier than usual, there are more sponsor meetings than ever, and my only saving grace is that I get to fall into bed with Wilder at the end of every day.
Who, despite all the pressure and eyes on him, only seems to be interested in how hard he can fuck me into the mattress every night.
Not that I’m complaining, being beside him is a dream come true.
For the first time in my life I know what it’s like to be in some kind of real relationship, and I know it’s stupid to say that given our circumstances, but I know I will cherish this time forever.
He is the one who has allowed me to be myself, to love myself, and I will never forget the time we have spent together.
Last night in bed, I swear I watched him sleep for like four hours, before I finally relented and went to sleep myself.
I couldn’t help it, I just wanted to memorize every single thing about him.
Even this morning when we went to work out, I barely paid attention, my eyes constantly finding him, to the point where I’m honestly not sure what I’m going to be like without him.
Eloise has been texting me non-stop, since apparently my father has roped her into planning my birthday party.
At least with her help I know it will have things I like, but it doesn’t make me any more excited.
The only thing I’m looking forward to about being back home, is getting to check on Freddie and make sure he’s okay.
After tomorrow, the only thing that matters is ensuring my father keeps up with his side of the deal.
Mr. Miles said the finale always draws more attention than the rest of the races, given the location, but I don’t think I fully prepared myself for just how much more it would be.
Every sports outlet wants a quote, every celebrity wants a ticket, and every brand wants a post. It quite literally never stops, and neither do I.
I’ve taken more photos and videos than ever, and have been doing almost hourly updates all day, even forcing Wilder to partake in a GRWM.
Something he tried to turn into a sexy striptease, that almost ended with us fucking in his dressing room again.
Thinking of that sends me into a daze. “Blue,” Wilder grunts below his breath, as we make our way down to the garage
“Hm?” I reply, not even looking up from my phone.
“You’re about to walk into a pillar,” he replies, tugging my arm and saving me just in time, and I offer him a grateful smile, before focusing back on my phone.
Tomorrow is race day, the final race of the season, which means it’s my final day working for Wilder Miles.
The thought settles in my chest like a dead weight, because tomorrow afternoon, once the podium celebrations finish and the interviews are done, my job ends and my contract will be officially done.
I’ve already helped Laura organise all the travel home, scheduled posts for all the guys to last the next two weeks, and cultivated my own socials to lead into my next step.
I’ll be back home in my apartment, trying to pretend these last four months never happened.
My stomach twists at the thought, because when I first met him I thought he was the biggest, most arrogant asshole I had ever met.
And now, somewhere along the way he has become something I never expected, and not just him, but all the guys.
I’m going to miss Matteo cursing at us all in Spanish, going to miss Knox and Beckett arguing over who is the better kisser.
I’m even going to miss the tangents Mr. Miles goes on during our morning meetings.
But most of all I’m going to miss this, getting to spend every day by Wilder's side, without anybody batting an eye at us.
“Have you even eaten today?” he asks, cutting into my thoughts, and I flick my stare back at him.
“I ate you, does that count?” I reply cheerfully, hoping to distract him, but he only glares at me.
“Come on, we’re getting a late lunch,” he tells me, steering me in the direction of where I know all the others are already eating lunch.
Wilder stays at my side as we both grab a tray and fill it up with food, dropping stuff off on one another’s tray, before both grabbing a coffee.
We find Matteo and the others sitting at a table in the corner, and don’t hesitate in joining them.
They all greet us with a smile, as Wilder pulls out my chair and then moves to make my coffee the way I like.
While he does that, I open his napkin and set down his cutlery, all under the watchful eyes of the guys.
“You two are disgustingly domestic,” Matteo finally drawls, and honestly I’m surprised he’s even here, given we didn’t see him for a full fifteen hours after he abandoned us at dinner the other night.
“Shouldn’t you be off stalking billionaires out of your league?” Wilder claps back, and Matteo grins.
“Out of my league? Hmm, I don’t think I’m familiar with that term.” His grin is infectious, and considering I have some inside information, I can’t help but tease him right alongside Wilder.
“I heard Vaughn fled back to London the morning after you met him,” I say quietly, watching him over the rim of my coffee cup, and again he smirks.
“London, huh? Is that where he lives?”
“Clearly you didn’t get to the getting to know you part of the conversation,” Wilder scoffs, but Matteo still isn’t fazed.
“Nah, my mouth was a little preoccupied, mi pequeno salvaje,” he replies with a wink, and Wilder rolls his eyes. “I’m sure you understand, I’m betting you two won’t even bother with separate hotel rooms next season,” he adds, and my smile falters.
I know he means the words innocently, and I can’t blame him for the presumption, but they hit me harder than they should.
Because there isn’t a next season, not for me, not for Wilder and me, and certainly not for my career.
No, this is it. Once I’m done here, I’ll go home, marry Eloise, and become a carbon copy of my father, and worse, he will be proud of me for it.
The entire picture in my mind makes me sick, and I have to choke down another gulp of coffee just to hide my reaction. Thankfully neither of them notice my internal meltdown, Wilder too busy laughing and telling Matteo to fuck off in Spanish, and I force myself to smile.
It’s a smile I keep in place for the rest of the day, and when I fall into bed with Wilder later that night, I hold him tighter than ever. I worship his entire body with my mouth, before letting him fuck me roughly until he collapses into a deep sleep.
The paddock is already alive and bustling with people by the time we arrive.
There are media crews set up everywhere, and extra reporters lined up doing interviews.
It’s absolutely insane, and I understand why Mr. Miles told us both to wear sunglasses today.
It wasn’t because of the blistering sun beating down on us, no, it’s because there are hundreds of cameras flashing all around us.
Wilder curled his lip at my professional outfit this morning, watching me get dressed without saying a word, but I knew it was necessary.
Wilder’s photos are going to be splashed all over the press, and given he won’t leave my side, I’ll be right there with him.
So I keep my head high and my shoulders straight, ensuring there is always a respectable amount of distance between us, unless I need to talk to him above the crowd.
People are screaming Wilder’s name, and I nudge him to ensure he’s hiding his grimace. “Showtime,” he grunts, offering them nothing more than a quick flick of his hand in greeting.
Not that they seem to care, they go crazy as soon as he barely acknowledges them, and I have to hide my smile.
Wilder doesn’t notice of course, he’s already in work mode, too focused on what today is, what it means, and I can’t say I blame him.
I know what this means to him, I just wish he knew what it meant to me too.
We go through our usual pre-race routine, which we have perfected by now, and everything feels sentimental in a way.
Like I know I’ll always remember the way he runs his numbers three times to make sure they're perfect, or how he always fistbumps Sid before getting into his car.
Even the way he tips his head at the wheel just before the lights go green.
By the time Wilder is standing in his full race kit, I have to stop myself from reaching out and pulling him into a hug.
His eyes flick to meet mine while his dad is giving him some final words of advice, and fuck I almost forget how to breathe.
I’ve seen him dressed like this nearly a hundred times since we met, his suit tied around his waist and his helmet tucked under one arm, but still he’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
I watch his lips tip up in amusement, and I’m almost certain he isn’t hearing a word his father is saying, and for once I don’t want to scold him.
I want him looking at me like that, like I’m the only thing that matters, no matter how selfish that may be, because today is all I have.
It’s all I’ll have for the rest of my arranged life.
He keeps watching me until his dad is done, and just as I am about to retreat to my spot in the garage, he calls my name. “Blue!” I pause, waiting, not saying anything, and he cocks his head to the side. "Don't disappear after."
“I won’t, I’ll be waiting for your exclusive quote remember,” I tease, clearing my throat, but he’s already shaking his head.
“No, I meant tonight. Don’t make plans, because I’ve made them for us,” he replies a little quieter, and the lump in my throat is so thick now I’m surprised I don’t choke on it. All I can do is nod, and then he’s walking backwards away from me. “Wish me luck.”
I have to clear my throat to respond. “You don’t need luck, you’re Wilder fucking Miles,” I shout out to him, and his returning grin is enough to make my heart break.
Taking my place with the rest of the team, I steal one of the spare headsets, pushing it into place and immediately hearing the crackle of radio static.
It isn’t long before Wilder comes through though, running through checks with Sid and the other engineers, before he begins his formation lap with the other racers.
The low rumble of twenty-four engines reverberates through my chest, even inside the garage, and everyone is on their feet now. My heart is in my throat as I watch them all move, and before I know it those familiar lights are going off and the race begins.
Wilder is impatient like always, weaving through cars and picking people off by their mistakes, not that it matters.
Given all the points he’s earned this season, no matter where he places today, he’s still on track to come 6th overall, maybe even 5th.
I track him on the screens lap after lap, barely taking a breath, as he takes every corner far too fast. No one around me speaks unless necessary, all of us happy enough to let the dull roar of the crowd be the only noise.
When the car reaches the final lap, almost every mechanic is standing shoulder to shoulder and the fans are going wild. I can hear the commentator shouting out their reports, but I don’t hear a single word. Not when the first car flies over the finish line. First, second, third, then…
“Wilder Miles coming in 7th.”
Everyone around me explodes, someone even knocks over a monitor, but I keep my eyes on the scoreboard, watching it refresh in real time.
Then finally it locks into place.
WILDER MILES - FIFTH OVERALL.
He fucking did it.
Absolute pandemonium breaks out in the garage, the entire team losing their minds and hugging one another, as all the other guys place, but I keep my eyes on the monitor. Wilder still looks calm and in control, but I can sense his smile through the screen, even from behind his helmet.
At the start of the season, all people cared about was his family stats and the whereabouts of his brother, but none of that matters now. No, now he’s Wilder Miles, 5th place PRI rookie, and 12th place world champ. He’s had the season of his goddamn life, and this is only the beginning for him.
My camera is glued to my hand, recording every moment of his cooldown lap, and as he disembarks from his car he’s swarmed by people, and I use my free hand to start uploading posts on his social accounts, all the while unable to tear my eyes away from him.
After that it takes hours for everything to die down, racers drinking champagne in their garages, teams posing for pictures, and more interviews than I can keep track of.
I pull Wilder aside three times for different quotes, before he is once again dragged away by someone, but after the third time, my phone vibrates with a new message,
Wilder - Escape while you can, pretty boy, I’ve got big plans for you
I have to bite my lip when I read it, my eyes dancing up and across the garage to where I know he is, to find him already watching me.
Me - Does it involve me naked and in your bed?
At my response, he smirks.
Wilder - Surprisingly no, but we can do that after
Wilder - Now get out of here before my dad gives you another job
I can’t stop myself from taking one more picture of him before I leave, one that is just for me, no one else, before heading back to the hotel to get ready.
I’m not sure what Wilder has planned for us, but I take my time getting ready.
I shower and prep and then slip on something sexy, and a little bit risky, underneath my normal clothes, and even apply a subtle bit of makeup.
We never usually go anywhere, since Wilder knows about my family issues, so I can only imagine we’re going somewhere alone.
To my surprise, he doesn’t come and knock on my door until almost 9.p.m, and I find he has showered and changed too. “Ready, Blue?” he asks, not making any effort to come inside, and all I can do is shrug.
“I don’t know, am I?” I toss the question back to him, gesturing to my outfit that consists of black slacks and a white shirt, and he appraises me slowly.
“You always look beautiful to me,” he replies without pause, and my heart skips a bit. “Now let’s go, the car is waiting.” He doesn’t wait for my response, just starts walking down the hallway toward the elevator.
“Car? Where the hell are we going, Miles?”
“Follow me and find out,” he calls over his shoulder, and like a puppet on his damn strings, I do just that.