26. Nevaeh
Race day is my favorite day of the weekend. The teams sprint back and forth, gathering all the equipment they need. I do my best to capture candid moments of the hardworking crews, amazed by how much they do and how little credit they get for it. Mechanics working on the car, strategists discussing their plans, and more I don’t even know about.
I see Papa running around and snap a few pictures to show him afterward. I think he’ll find it funny to see himself sweating through his dress shirt while worrying about the smallest of details.
Right before Adrian left, he appeared in front of me with his headphones half on, half off. Taylor Swift’s voice blasted through the earpieces, so loud even I could hear it. I cocked a brow and grinned so hard, my cheeks hurt.
“What? I’m a Swiftie. I have to listen to her music before every race or it won’t be a good one. It’s my superstition.” He winked at me once before placing his headphones on properly and jogging in Daniel’s direction.
I smiled the whole time I wrote it down in my notes for the article.
The cars have lined up at the starting grid, and the teams get ready as the clock counts down.
Ten minutes to go until the start of the sixth race of this season.
At the start of the race, all the cars are close together, fighting to push as far ahead as possible. Crashes often happen through avoidable mistakes, miscalculations from the drivers about the amount of space they have, and a million more reasons. It’s why I hate the start. It makes me unbelievably nervous.
“Hi, honey,” I hear Mama say, grabbing my attention.
I finish the last word of the thought I was jotting down before it has a chance to leave my brain and turn to smile at her. She pushes my hair off my shoulder to let it rain down my back. Concern flickers in her eyes and causes her upper lip to twitch.
“What are you doing?” she eventually asks, making my breathing hitch. Out of all the questions she could have asked, this one confuses me the most.
“With my life or at this very second?” I reply, a smile skipping onto my face. Mama frowns and rubs her temples with the tips of her index fingers.
She hates it when I’m like this.
“Nevaeh, be serious. Your boss spoke to me about your behavior at dinner yesterday. Since when do you walk away from confrontation?” Anger and frustration settle in my chest, weighing heavy on my lungs and restricting my breathing.
Why would Gillian go to speak to my mother?
“Mama, I love you, and I appreciate your concern, but this is my business, and I need you to see it as such.”
I know very well this is not an easy thing for her. Being nosy and all up in her children’s businesses is her love language, but, for once, she needs to stay out of it. I’m even surprised I’ve been able to hide what’s going on between Adrian and me for this long. She usually sniffs these things out in minutes.
“Okay, but, remember, be glad you got this job. It took you forever to find one,” she replies and squeezes my arm before walking away, most likely to get back to Papa.
Something about her words rubs me the wrong way.
Then, as they slowly sink in, I realize she doesn’t think I’d get another job, just the encouragement I needed to stay in this shitty one. Fantastic. My eyes dart back to the screens as I force myself to concentrate on the race.
I should take notes in case Mrs. Lu wants me to write an article about the race as well. At this point, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.
My main task is to have a constant eye on Adrian, I think.
Finally, the crews clear the track so the drivers can take their formation lap to warm up the tires and charge their batteries. They then reposition themselves on track at the starting light, waiting for the lights to go out. Adrian and Lincoln will go head-to-head, and I can’t watch, but I have to, even though it makes my stomach twist into the worst knot.
As soon as the lights go off, every single driver charges forward, inches away from one another. Adrian keeps his first place for now, and Lincoln fights James Landon for the second position. Val stays in sixth as her brother takes off, creating a small distance between himself and the other nineteen drivers. Lincoln eventually moves out of James’ reach, keeping his second place.
Once everything settles, I’m able to breathe again.
“Nerve-racking, huh?” A man with brown hair and a matching beard approaches me, and I smile when I realize it’s Daniel, Adrian’s performance coach. His Irish accent is strong, but I’ve been around enough people with all types of accents to understand them considerably well in casual conversations.
“Yes.” I let out a small laugh neither one of us can hear since it’s too loud in the Velocità Rossa garage, but, hopefully, my smile shows it.
“Adrian wasn’t kidding,” Daniel says as he leans back against the wall, and I pinch my eyebrows together.
“Kidding about what?” He piqued my curiosity. The trainer crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking past me at the screens.
“I think his exact words were ‘Her smile matches her name.’” My heart sinks into my stomach as a warm feeling spreads through me. I trap my bottom lip between my teeth while I hide the grin Daniel’s words have caused.
That damn Adrian.
As my eyes shift back to the screens, I watch Adrian enter the pitlane to get his tires changed. He loses two places, which is normal and nothing to worry about yet, while Lincoln takes the lead for now.
The race is long.
I sit down after a while of standing on my feet so I can bounce my leg up and down. There are two laps left when Lincoln gets into Adrian’s DRS. I cover my mouth and hold my breath as I watch Adrian defend the first place he worked hard to maintain.
Then, Gabriel is right behind Lincoln, pressuring him to stop attacking his teammate and focus on defending his second place. Lincoln gives in, too busy trying to remain where he is when he takes the third-to-last corner too wide by accident, allowing Gabriel to overtake.
A gasp leaves me while I jump to my feet and get closer to the screens. Both of the Velocità Rossa drivers cross the line, scoring a one-two finish for their team. Lincoln comes in third, James in fourth, Kyle Hughes in fifth, and Valentina snatches sixth for herself.
Celebrations take up the next two hours. The drivers get interviewed, then move onto the podium. The Italian and Monegasque anthems fill my ears, one after the other. It’s tradition to play the winner’s home anthem and the team’s before the drivers are handed their trophies and celebrate with champagne.
I watch with the biggest smile and my camera fixated on Adrian as he shakes the champagne bottle, then slams it onto the podium so the liquid sprays everywhere. He directs the bottle at Gabriel, who sprays his teammate in return.
The Velocità Rossa team cheers and celebrates their winner, so Adrian turns toward them after, his champagne raining down on us. He sticks out his tongue, victory painting his cheeks a wonderful pink.
Unsurprisingly, joy looks fantastic on this man.
The story of his father comes back into my mind, causing a sad smile to spread over my lips.
The Velocità Rossa paddock screams out of pure joy because their team has started the season on six separate highs. Then, the top three drivers get back to their garages, changing and getting ready for the post-race conference and interviews with the reporters. Gillian and his team will be there, but he told me not to bother coming. I make my way back inside as well, searching for Adrian to congratulate him.
Instead of Adrian, a very sweaty, very happy Valentina appears in front of me. She shakes her hair from side to side, droplets of sweat and probably water flying everywhere.
“Gross,” I say with a laugh, and she giggles. “Shouldn’t you be showering to go to interviews?” I ask, wiping a drop off my arm by rubbing it against her racing suit.
“Yes, I should, but I wanted to ask if you’d like to come to the afterparty with me, Gabriel, Leonard, Cameron, James, Scarlette, Chiara, and Adrian,” she says, using a towel to wipe the sweat off her forehead.
“I appreciate the invitation but—” I cut off, not quite sure why I’m declining her offer. I love spending time with Val and Adrian, but my anxiety is going to make this evening unbearable.
Exposing myself to new situations triggers my anxiety.
This is a new situation, and my anxiety is already triggered by the mere thought of me going.
What would Nova tell me to do in this situation?
Exposure therapy, Nevi. You gotta go out there and expose yourself to something that frightens you. It’ll get easier that way because once you see you can do these things, it’ll feel less like you could never do them.
“No but, actually. I’d love to come. Where should I meet you?” I ask, ignoring the wave of panic going through my chest.
Valentina takes my arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“You’ll be with me the whole time, love. I won’t leave you alone for a second unless you want me to,” she assures me, and if she weren’t so sweaty from the two-hour race, I’d give her a hug.
“Thank you.”
After she writes down the address of her hotel into my phone, she skips out of the room and straight toward where Gabriel is waiting for her. He gives me a swift nod and a small smile before he beams at Val and wraps her up in his arms.