21. Adrian
Every Thursday before the start of the season, I ask my team to let me near the car after almost everyone”s gone to get a second alone with it. There are still a few mechanics around me, of course, I’m not allowed to be entirely alone with my car, but that’s fine by me.
I don’t speak.
I don’t say a single word aloud as I squat down in front of my car with a single hand resting on its nose.
“You will be a World Champion, son. You will take that title and make it yours, just like I made it mine. You have the heart of a racer, the lungs, the bones, the willpower. You will be one of the greatest in the history of Formula One. I believe in you. You just have to believe in yourself.”
My grandfather’s words echo in my ears as I study the red color of my car, the eight painted across the nose. My number. The one I chose because I’ve always liked the way the eight didn’t have an end. It’s infinite.
Infinite like time.
Infinite like grief and pain.
Infinite like love is supposed to be.
Gabriel chose the number seven because of all the people he lost. Valentina chose the number nine because it chose her first. Leonard chose three for reasons he wouldn’t share with me. James chose the number nineteen because he was nineteen when he started racing in Formula One. Cameron chose thirty-four because his little sister liked the number.
But I chose my number because I was hoping it would give me infinite strength. Because I thought if I put it on my car, no one would ever take my seat away. Because I never want to leave Formula One.
Help me get us that championship, I think to my car, pressing my forehead against the cool material of the nose.
This is an incredibly intimate moment, and I’m grateful to find all the mechanics turning away to give me a second. I’ve done this ritual without anyone, not even Val, knowing since I was a kid. It was for good luck, to feel a deeper connection to my car by treating it like my equal. And it is. All the racing skills and talent in the world won’t get me the win if my car doesn’t work with me.
I run my fingers over my number one last time before straightening out my back, thanking my mechanics and the rest of the crew working this late, and leaving again.
I want to win.
I want that title.
And I’m going to get it.
No matter what it takes.
Nevaeh texted me Tuesday night, saying she wanted to reschedule our French tutoring lesson because she was upset about something that happened and didn’t feel like she’d be good company. I loved her honesty, wished I could show her that I could cheer her up, and hated the fact that I had no idea what upset her.
She was distant as she stood with Gillian, watching him interview Gabriel, Kyle, Lincoln, and me without saying a single word. Her eyes were locked on her notepad as she scribbled something down.
She looked tired. Beautiful, more so than anyone has a right to, but tired.
I tried talking to her after Gillian was done with his interview, but my PR manager, Fatima, ushered me away to my next one. Being a Formula One driver means I have responsibilities and can’t go about doing whatever I want. It’s unfortunate because I wanted to ask Nevaeh what I could do to make her smile.
“Hey, big guy, could you get that dreamy look out of your eyes and get in the car?” Chloe, my race engineer, asks with a scowl on her face.
We met five years ago when I was still on a lower-ranking team. I was racing in Brazil, her home race, and she was training to be a race engineer for a different driver. Jonathan Kent never knew I convinced her to work for me instead, but the asshole deserved my sneaky and underhandedness. He was a fucking dick to Leonard.
Chloe is an absolute grump and a hard-ass, but she got us Vice World Champion last year. She’s the reason why my races go smoothly. She is the brains behind my successful race strategies.
“I’m waiting for Daniel to get me my gloves,” I explain with an easy smile, but she continues to stare me down until I get a little nervous.
She’s frightening, but I adore her for it. Nobody from my team fucks with her, which means no one fucks with me, either.
“Sorry, I’m here. My boyfriend’s mother was just sent to the hospital for food poisoning,” Daniel says as soon as he approaches me with everything I’ll need for the Grand Prix today.
I warmed up without him too because he was on the phone with Quinton, his boyfriend, but now I get why. I had food poisoning last year during one of the last race weekends of the season, and it was not fun. It was even worse because Val got into the worst crash Formula One has seen since Gabriel’s godfather, Maxime, crashed and passed away from his injuries.
F1 is fun and exhilarating and a thrill until it’s not.
Until it’s dark and terrifying and life-threatening.
Almost losing my sister last year broke something inside of me I haven’t been able to mend yet, which is probably why I’m a little clingy when it comes to her these days. I mean, I’ve always been a little clingier when it comes to her because she’s my favorite person, but watching that crash from the hospital bed, feeling powerless and useless? It’s been stuck with me ever since it happened. Whenever I look at my sister, when I see those scars on her skin left behind, the feeling resurfaces.
“Adrian?” Chloe’s voice fills my ears, but I don’t move. I can’t. I’ve spiraled into the darkest of memories and I kind of need a hug right now.
“Adrian, what’s going on? You’re usually more level-headed than this,” Daniel says, and I manage to lift my head to look at him.
All I have to do is drive the car to the first place position on the grid. Then, I can get out again while the world of Formula One counts down to the first race of the season. Then, I can go see my sister.
Yesterday was Qualifying. It consists of three sessions. Q1, Q2, and Q3. Each time one of the first two sessions ends, five of the drivers get knocked out of Qualifying. In Q1, we position ourselves anywhere from position sixteen to twenty. In Q2, anywhere from eleven to fifteen. Q3 is where it gets most exciting. The top teams compete for the pole position, which means whoever manages to snatch that position will start first the following day for the race. The rest of the ten drivers will position themselves anywhere from two to ten. All of this is to determine the starting grid for the race. Today’s starting grid is me, Gabriel, fucking Lincoln, Kyle, James, Grant, Val, Leonard, Cameron, and then the rest of the drivers.
Yeah, I got the first pole position of the season.
I’m that good.
“Just drive the car to its place, and then we can figure out how to get your head back inside your body,” Daniel says with a light-hearted smile, which I somehow manage to return.
That’s who I’m supposed to be, after all. The fun guy. The one who makes everyone smile and laugh, feel good about themselves. I’m not supposed to tear them down. There are only very few people I allow myself to be vulnerable with. Val, James, Gabriel, and my newest addition, Nevaeh.
I shudder a little at the thought, as I remember the night at her home when I told her things I hadn’t ever shared with someone I was as attracted to as I am to her. It’s easier when feelings aren’t involved. Everything’s easier when you ignore the most vulnerable part of yourself: your heart.
Since when did I stop seeking the easy route?
You can’t live without your brain. Once that’s gone, you’re done. But you can live without your heart beating inside of your chest for a few minutes before it kills your brain. In those few seconds, there is nothing but agony. Deep pain that floods your entire system. That’s not the way I want to die.
I’d rather have the quick death of getting shot in the head, thanks.
“Alright, let’s go,” I say and take my gloves and helmet from Daniel.
Once I’ve zipped up my racing suit, slipped my fingers inside my gloves, and placed my helmet on my head, I make my way into my car. My seat is cold and hard, forcing reality back inside my head instead of lingering on the past or fearing the future because of Nevaeh.
I drive the car to my spot on the grid, getting out just in time to see my team approaching me. Daniel is by my side again, waiting for me to hand him my things and get ready to listen to the Bahrain national anthem.
It’s part of every race weekend for all of the drivers to stand with the person performing the anthem to show our respect for the country hosting the race. It also gives me time to find my sister and my soon-to-be brother standing off to the side, talking about something I can’t hear.
Val is looking at Gabriel with so much concentration, I realize he’s telling her everything she needs to remember about this track. Not the things my sister already knows, but probably how the drivers on our grid treat each other during this race.
My heart stutters at the thought of her racing today. At the thought that something else could happen to her. I wonder if that’s how she always felt when she was watching me race from my box.
“Don’t talk her ear off, Gabriel. She’ll need it to listen to Scarlette instruct her during the race,” I tease, and my sister grins while my teammate scowls at me.
“She needs to know these things,” he points out, and I notice the tension in his shoulders. The way every muscle in his body is flexing to hold off that gut-wrenching fear of Val getting into another accident.
He’s as terrified as I am.
“Did you also tell her how fucking aggressive Lincoln is? I didn’t get into it with him often last season because he was at the back of the grid a lot, but the three times we raced, he didn’t hold back. He pushed me off the track every chance he got,” James chimes in as he approaches our little group.
He smiles down at Val and places a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly. No doubt he can see how tense I am the same way I see it in Gabriel.
“Yeah, I told her,” Gabriel replies, giving James, the man he despises a little less but still fucking hates after all this time, a curt nod.
“I also already studied him and Grant by watching last year’s races from their views. They are the two new drivers of the top teams, so I prepared myself, along with studying every other driver on this grid,” Val defends and places her fists on her hips. She tied her racing suit around her waist in the same way Gabriel and James have, and when I look down at my body, I realize I didn’t.
No wonder I’m sweating my balls off.
“Just be careful. From what I’ve learned about Grant as a person, he pretends to be nice, but he hates that a woman is racing,” James adds, his English accent thick as he stares directly into Val’s eyes.
He’s been in love with her for as long as he can remember. Everybody knows it. It’s the reason he made several dumb decisions in the past, but I think he’s gotten a much better handle on his feelings since his son was born.
“Alright, so kick Grant’s ass. Got it,” Val replies with a little mischievous grin, and I shoot her a proud look. If she doesn’t, I fucking will. I’ll fight anyone who thinks my sister, or any other woman, doesn’t belong in Formula One.
“Uh oh, Val has got her murderous face on. Everybody, take cover,” Cameron says as he approaches us, too, a brooding Leonard next to him.
“Better watch out, Kion. If you get in my way, I won’t hesitate to remove you,” my sister teases, so Cameron flings his arm around her shoulder and presses his lips to her cheek to blow air against it. It makes a farting noise so loud, everyone around us turns their head to furrow their brows at them.
“Alright, Cameron, hands off my wife so she can get ready for her race,” Gabriel says, completely ignoring the fact that Val isn’t his wife yet. He snatches her away from his best friend to pick her up and carry her over to where we’re going to stand to listen to the national anthem, Val giggling the whole way.
“You good?” James asks as we walk together, following the two disgustingly in love people.
“Scared shitless. You?” I reply, and he flashes me an amused smile, his blue eyes practically sparkling in the burning afternoon sun.
“Nah, mate, I’m ready for this season. It’s going to be a good one,” James says and nudges me with his shoulder.
I look at him one last time before shifting my gaze forward to see Nevaeh standing off to the side with her team. Gillian is interviewing Kyle. Lincoln is standing with them, too, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up in irritation. He looks guilty as his eyes linger on Nevaeh, but she’s paying him no attention. She’s focused on her work. The only indicators that something is wrong are the bags under her eyes.
Frustration digs its nails into my back, scratching down the length of it until it burns. I want this man as far away from Nevaeh as humanly possible. I want him to apologize to her for all the pain he’s caused her and then fuck off so far, he’ll be on the other side of the galaxy. Something about him just rubs me the wrong way, and I refuse to acknowledge that that something might just be my very complicated attraction toward a certain curvy goddess of a woman with honey-brown eyes and hair that somehow always looks flawless.
“Focus,” James says and nudges me again.
Somehow, I manage to do as I’m told, respectfully listening to the anthem before moving back toward my F1 car. Valentina, Gabriel, and I exchange our family saying before we go our separate ways.
“Breathe, race, and win, as long as it doesn’t cost you a limb.”
Grandpa used to say this to us every single time before a race. It was his way of reminding us that we should do whatever it takes to win, as long as we’re safe and we stick to the rules.
Daniel is by my side, going through my last few pre-race rituals with me. Once I’m in the car, Chloe checks in with me. She tells me about the track conditions such as the temperature of the track and level of humidity before reminding me that tire degradation is going to be a pain in the ass today. Okay, she doesn’t use those exact words because she’s a professional, but it’s the same thing.
“Don’t do anything stupid on the opening lap. No risky moves. Gabriel is too fast and smart. He’ll overtake you,” Chloe reminds me, and I let out a small laugh.
“I’m not a child, you know?” She snorts in response.
“That’s debatable.” I can’t help but shake my hand and laugh again.
Then, it’s time for tunnel vision. To shut everything out until racing is the only thing left in my mind. I’m very good at that usually. At least, I was before a certain brunette with blonde highlights in her hair showed up and now I’m thinking about her. Thinking about winning so I can impress her. Thinking about hugging her after the race. Okay, fine, I’m also thinking about kissing her, but that’s not going to happen while her job forbids it
“Adrian,” Chloe barks. She must have said my name a few times already if her tone is this harsh.
“Sorry,” I say, watching the lights turn on above all of us to signal the start of the formation lap.
All twenty drivers take one lap around the circuit to charge the car batteries, warm up the tires, and take in the track conditions. Easy enough. The hard part comes when the lights go on one by one until all five bulbs are filled with bright LED lights.
Then, we wait, all of us getting tested on our reaction times. Once all five lights turn off at the same time, we’ll start the race. The better you react, the better you get away.
So, no pressure.
My gaze slips to my mirror, watching Gabriel line up in the second-place spot to the right of me and slightly further back.
No matter how often I race, my heart will never not thump harder and harder the closer we get to the start.
A wave of nerves hits me right in the stomach, but I shove it away.
Gabriel is not overtaking me and neither is the rookie in the Grenzenlos behind me. Yes, I’m still aware he isn’t a rookie, but this is only his second year racing and his first with Grenzenlos. He’s a rookie to me, and I’m not going to let a fucking rookie beat me, especially not a nepotism baby who got his seat through his daddy being friends with Robert Fuchs.
I smell burning rubber from the tires as we all wait, wait, wait, wait, wait…go!
My foot slams on the gas pedal as my fingers press the matching buttons. My beautiful Velocità Rossa shoots forward faster than Gabriel’s, but only slightly.
He’s right up my ass as we head into the first corner, and I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from cursing. All of my muscles tense up as the g-force hits me hard, causing adrenaline to course through my body.
Gabriel shoots next to me when we reach the second corner, but I’m ready for the fight.
I manage to keep him behind me for the entire duration of the first lap. By the time the second one comes around, I”ve managed to create a gap big enough so that he doesn’t get the speed advantage of the drag reduction system, most commonly called DRS. That means, if he’s less than a second behind me, he can use it, letting that flap in his rear wing open to get the speed advantage. When he’s more than a second behind me, he can’t.
Right now, he’s more than a second behind me.
According to Chloe, he’s slowed down for now to prevent tire degradation. I don’t know what the rest of the race will bring, but I’m fucking excited to find out.
And even more excited to win.