Chapter Not Today, At Least #3
The car looks fine, but he’ll bribe the guys with some dinner or drinks to make up for the amount of work they’ll have to do before qualifying. It’s not fair to them, how often they have to pick up after his mistakes.
Matt is a burden to his peers. Always has been, ever since he was five. Probably always will be.
He gets checked out by the medics as a precaution, though the gravel helped slow his stop. Afterwards, he hops a motorbike and rides back to the garage.
Matt doesn’t need to look at the pit wall to know they’re disappointed in him, so he makes his rounds inside the garage. He apologizes to his mechanics and engineers before hiding away in his driver’s room.
Though Robert’s literally the reason Matt has a knocking policy, he only lightly taps the door before entering. “Passed your car out on the track. Looked okay, if it makes you feel any better.”
“Don’t just let yourself in, I could’ve been changing.” It’s a pathetic attempt to send him away, but that’s all the energy Matt has right now.
“Changing? Into what? We still have qualifying.” Robert looks around, as if his own driver’s room is any different. “You okay?”
“It was just a gravel trap.”
“No, I mean…” Robert taps the wardrobe with his shoe. “How are you?”
He’s probably asking about their conversation last night. God knows Matt has thought of practically nothing else since, but he prefers to be difficult instead. “Slightly nervous that you’re gonna try’n break my nose again.”
“Oh yeah.” Robert looks up. “I’m sorry about that, by the way.”
“Seemed to enjoy it at the time.” And in the weeks afterwards, since he kept bringing it up.
“Not as mu—never mind.”
Not as much as you did.
Matt will never live it down. “That doesn’t sound very much like an apology.”
“Yeah, I suck at them.” Robert never sucks at anything. “The important part is that it won’t happen again. Promise.”
Matt makes a non-committal noise in the back of his throat.
“Look, at the time I didn’t know what you were going through with the team or anything. I just thought you destroyed my race because of our history. I was already on edge with my parents, and then Lucía kept telling me how nice you were, and then you fuckin’ ran me off the track.”
Here we go again. “I didn’t, though!”
This feels good—a fight Matt knows how to win. Fighting with facts beats dealing with emotions any day.
“Yeah, I know, I watched the replay.” Robert deflates and turns, leaning against the wardrobe. “I’m also sorry I moved under braking. Just add it to the list.”
“Sure.” Matt doesn’t need a list of apologies, he’s got enough of his own. “Is Lucía your girlfriend?”
“Uh, she was.”
“Oh.” Matt wants to know what happened, but they’re probably not close enough for him to ask. “Sorry?”
“Nah, don’t be. She left when she saw what I did to you. So really, I deserved it.”
Matt’s not as elated as he would’ve been a few months ago. In fact, he kinda wishes he hadn’t said anything when Robert looks so pathetic. “Wanna sit?”
The larger man plops down next to Matt on the already-cramped mattress pad, his limbs everywhere.
Robert’s silent for a single breath before he asks, “D’you remember when Dad told us we’d miss the RV? That one day we’d call ’em the ‘good ole days’?”
Matt swallows as he nods. He’s been thinking about the good ole days more often lately.
“I keep imagining how pissed off I’d be if I went back in time and told my younger self that Dad was right.”
Matt smiles. “I swear these stupid-ass mattresses are harder than the ground ever was.”
“Right?!” Robert grasps the edge of the pad and squeezes it. He stares at the material in his hand when he says, “The old Bobby wouldn’t believe me if I told him everything.”
“That we’d get tired of plane rides and hotel rooms?”
“That both of us made it to Formation 1. That we even ended up on the same team.” Robert’s still picking at the mattress, not looking up. “That we hated each other.”
“I don’t hate you.” Not anymore, at least.
“Yeah, you’re okay, I guess.”
Robert exhales with a flourish, his head hanging back to stare up at the ceiling. His hair falls in soft waves at this angle, catching the light like a blond waterfall. He’s so effortlessly beautiful, it’s almost infuriating.
Matt assumes the same position, his neck stretching under the weight of his relaxed head as it hangs backwards.
Their driver’s rooms have no ceilings, so they stare up into the inner workings of the garage. There's pipes and wires and other things Matt knows nothing about. “It's not as pretty as a starry sky.”
“See?!” Robert exclaims. “That’s exactly what I mean. We’re in your driver’s room inside a Formation 1 garage. It's been our dream since we were five! And yet, I haven’t seen stars in months and I miss them. It’s always—” He waves his hand and gestures at the ceiling. “Or like, light pollution.”
“Well, you know, ‘The stars at night are big and bright…’”
Robert barks a surprised laugh. Still, he sits up to clap and finish, “Deep in the heart of Texas.”
“Your singing could use some work.”
“Hey!”
Matt looks back up at the ceiling and tries to see it in a new light, to appreciate where he is. He has a career he loves, a seat at a new team next year, a fragile friendship with the boy he grew up with. Life is good. “Thank you for this.”
“For what?”
Matt snorts. “Pick anything. My life? I guess?”
“Oh. Sure thing.”
Sure thing. Like he held a door open or something.
Then again, in a way, he basically did.
Matt swallows, but it’s difficult with his head hanging backwards. “How much do I owe you, by the way?”
“Owe me? You don’t owe me anything.”
“Just humor me. How much was it all?”
Robert tallies on his fingers. “Well there was… and… oh, and don’t forget… yeah… and then the…”
Matt braces himself for the worse. He’ll pay it back, no matter how much Robert tries to refuse it. He has an obligation to pay back every cent, even if it takes the rest of his life.
“A hundred bucks,” Robert says with finality. “Give or take a couple dollars.”
Matt blows a raspberry. “You mean ‘give or take a couple of millions of dollars’! C’mon, Bobby, how much?”
“I dunno, I’m sooo bad at math.” Robert leans into his accent when he says, “I reckon I coulda used that silly ole college money after all.”
“That’s not funny!” Matt can’t help but laugh. “You could’ve had a completely different life. Could’ve done anything with that kinda money.”
“Like get a fancy college degree, a big obnoxious house, and some supermodel housewife?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Instead, I got an entire racing career, a big obnoxious house, and a teammate who used to hate me.”
“A terrible investment.”
“Go easy on me, I was five.” Robert hums. “No, I promise, I wouldn’t change anything. Besides, I’ve more than made that money back. I don’t think any of my brands would’ve ever sponsored Robert Miller, College Graduate.”
“They might’ve sponsored Robert Miller, Quarterback.”
“Yeah, probably.”
Matt deflates. “If I never tricked you into joining the advanced league, that could be your life right now.”
“Oh, no. Definitely not.”
“Definitely?” That’s a strong word for a hypothetical conversation.
“I’m a third generation Miller. Of the Racing Millers.” It loses its luster when Robert says it sarcastically. “C’mon, you can’t seriously think you were the only person in my family who encouraged me to race?”
In my family. Robert thought of Matt as family? What did that even mean? Like brothers? Or… someone he would choose to be with?
Matt’s head pops up, suddenly interested in watching Robert. “I wasn’t?”
“It wasn’t a matter of whether I’d end up driving, only when. No time for football in our house.”
That’s not reassuring, it’s just sad in its own way. Everything Matt envied Robert for—the money, the racing connections, his bloodline—is everything he had tried to escape.
How good of a friend could Matt be if he had kept Robert trapped in that cycle for his own benefit?
“I mean, maybe I could’ve done football if I sucked at racing, but you shouldn’t blame yourself for encouraging me to be better. Like—you okay?”
“Huh?” Matt blinks a couple of times until Robert’s face focuses again. “What?”
“Jesus Christ.” Robert hooks an arm around Matt's neck and drags him closer, up under his armpit.
“Hey!”
Robert digs his knuckles into Matt’s head, running them back and forth. “I’m trying to make you feel better about my life—which is super weird, by the way—and you completely zone out!”
Matt’s arms flail, his hands scrambling to find Robert’s face from the awkward position. “Then get a better life story, Jesus.” He makes contact with a satisfying slap and immediately rears back to slap at his face again.
“That’s my eye, you little—”
Someone knocks on the door frame and the boys freeze. Robert’s arm loosens just enough for Matt to pull his head away and face the intruder.
“Hey, fellas,” Peter says, Reggie right beside him. They make quite the intimidating pair, their burly arms crossed in front of them. “Just checkin’ in on you. Everything alright in here?”
“Yes, yes!” Matt pushes Robert further away so the guys can see he’s not bruised or bleeding. “Sorry for makin’ a racket, he was just cheering me up.”
“Yeah, and um, I mean, you look cheerier, so I’m just gonna—” Robert shuffles past the bulky men and waves over their heads when he’s in the hallway. “Good talk!”
“You okay?” Reggie asks, checking Matt over.
“Yeah.” The weird thing is, he actually means it. “Sorry ‘bout that. Is the car okay?”
Matt scrambles out of the small room to see how his car is faring. He can only hope he leaves the terrible swooping in his stomach behind.
“How do you feel?” Robert asks, concern coloring his face.
“Uncomfortable.” That’s putting it mildly.
“Yeah, you’re super tense. Try to relax, loosen up a bit. It’s supposed to be fun.”
Fun. Matt scoffs. “I’ve never been less relaxed in my life.”