Chapter Not Today, At Least #11
But Bobby had laid him down so gently. He whispered silly little things about how they could make it work. About future rendezvous at races. About competing in Form 1 together.
Despite everything, Mateo had listened. He had let the dream take root deep, deep inside him—even deeper than where Bobby could physically reach.
He let those fleeting thoughts grab a hold of his lungs, choking him until he convinced himself they could make it work. They could have both each other and their racing careers.
He came on his back. Then he came back to his senses.
Mateo’s suitcase was already packed, and it took no effort to drag it through their hotel door without waking Bobby.
He pressed the elevator button until it arrived and slumped over in the confined space once the doors closed. The walls were mirrored, so he kept his eyes squeezed shut.
He didn’t need to face himself. Didn't need to see any amount of hesitancy there. Any little thing could’ve convinced him to turn around—to run back to the room and dive into Bobby’s sleepy embrace.
Though it was the middle of the night, the airport was a liminal space where a teenager in sweats with hastily wiped cum still drying on his stomach could blend in with a crowd of other haggard travelers.
The line for the ticket counter was short, but every minute he spent in it was another minute to worry about his plan. What if they didn’t have any other flights? What if—after all of the effort it took for Mateo to leave—he and Bobby still shared a row on the same plane?
That sounded like fate.
When it was his turn, Mateo stepped up to the counter and gave his information.
“Oh hun, you’re here ten hours early,” the agent cooed.
“Yeah.” Mateo didn’t have enough energy to think of a reason why that might be the case. “Do you have anything for earlier?”
“I’m sure we do.”
Minutes later, Mateo sat in his new terminal with his new plane ticket and stared at his text thread with Bobby.
He needed to say something. He needed to explain himself.
Obviously, he needed to explain himself, but it was hard to find words that could encompass everything. Nothing could make his decision sound any better.
“I’m sorry,” he typed, because he was. “I have to choose racing.”
That’s what it was, wasn’t it? A choice between racing and Bobby.
And Mateo loved Bobby—he knew that, he wasn’t stupid—but no human could replace the thrill he got with every overtake on the track, with every victory. Even the crashes were something he yearned for in a way his soul needed.
He couldn’t jeopardize his racing just because the person he fell in love with was a boy.
Mateo sent the message and turned his phone off. Without the device to distract him, he watched the clock above the gate tick by and tried not to think about everything he was leaving behind.
Matt wakes up in the middle of the night with the sudden urge to piss. He carefully extracts himself from under a heavy arm and pads into his en suite. As he washes his hands, he catches his reflection in the mirror.
He looks happy for the first time in a long time.
When Matt ventures back out into the room, he’s surprised the room is lit. The blanket has been removed from the lamp on the side table, and warm light floods the area with a calming glow.
Robert sits upright in the bed, against the headboard. His head is propped up with an arm braced on his knee.
“I’m sorry,” Matt says. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I’m a light sleeper.”
“Didn’t used to be.” Matt pulls the covers back and slips inside, grateful the sheets are still warm. “You used to sleep anywhere. Was such a pain to try and wake you up.”
“Yeah.” Robert switches the lamp off and shuffles himself downwards until he’s laying again. “The last time we fell asleep together, I didn’t wake up until after it was too late. Changes things.”
They stare at each other in the dark until Robert throws a heavy arm over Matt’s middle and drags him over into his embrace.
Matt squawks in surprise, but he hasn’t laid skin to skin with anyone in years and he’s secretly giddy with it. Everywhere they touch is so hot, he just might melt.
“I’m not leaving this time,” Matt mutters into the bare skin of Robert’s shoulder.
Robert squeezes him in response. “I’ll still wake up—just in case.”
brEAKING: This weekend will be Matthew Hernandez’s final race with Andes Racing.
The team will release the American driver one weekend before the end of the season so he can participate in testing with his new team, Kaas.
This decision has been met with both shock and confusion from several notable people in the sport who were quick to point out that just last weekend, Matthew had earned the team’s first ever podium finish.
Replacing him will be Andes’s reserve driver, Hugo Tremblay.
Matt’s completely hollow by the time he sets foot in the paddock. He already cycled through any emotions he could possibly experience in the days after the first article hit. Now he’s just… dried out.
He dodges reporters and photographers as best as he can, and avoids eye contact from any other people milling about.
Matt doesn’t need their pity. He’s pitiful enough all by himself.
When he shuts his driver’s room door behind him, he finally exhales.
Just one weekend. Just one more weekend and he’ll be a Kaas driver and all of this Andes drama will be far behind him.
After changing, he scrolls on his phone. His suit puddles around his waist as he lounges in his driver’s room. He should probably be out there in the garage, savoring every moment with a team he knows so well, but he can’t bring himself to leave his safe space.
Instead, he lingers on a video—an interview with an obviously upset Robert.
“How do you feel about this weekend being your teammate’s last race with Andes?” the reporter asks, shoving the microphone up under Robert’s nose. He’s trapped in the media pen, so the camera is trained to his face the entire time.
“I don’t have broadcast-appropriate words for the situation.”
“Were you aware it would be the last?”
“No, I wasn’t.” Robert has his serious–accent on—his words no longer tinted with a southern twang. “And I was with Teo when the news broke, so I know he wasn’t aware either.”
“He wasn’t?!”
Matt’s face burns with embarrassment—both for the casual use of his nickname and because the first article was released early the morning after they had sex.
Robert looks too upset to realize they probably shouldn’t have been together at that time.
“I think this situation has shown what Andes Racing thinks of its drivers. To let go of someone who has dedicated years of his life to helping them succeed? Andes’s first podium finisher?
And to do so by alerting the press instead of calling him or, better, by meeting in person? I’m disappointed in my team.”
“Do you think this situation might cause a rift in Andes between drivers and management?”
Robert smiles, but it seems almost cruel, somehow. “Well, I know my worth. And my sponsors’ worth. There are a couple of teams who still haven’t announced a second driver. If any of them are interested, they should give me a call.”
The blood drains from Matt’s face.
He couldn’t—
That’s not even—
But he has a contract extension! Robert wouldn’t jeopardize his seat at a Formation 1 team for something as petty as this mess.
Right?!
“That’s a rather bold thing to say!” The reporter sounds absolutely gleeful. Considering the virality of the post, she has a right to be.
“Well, since Andes loves to handle business in the press, I’m just playing with their handbook. If they don’t care about driver contracts, then I won’t either. Contracts are just flimsy pieces of paper to people with enough money.”
“You’re watching my interview?”
Matt jolts as Robert lets himself into his room. “You’re supposed to knock!”
“I did knock.” Really? “Anything interesting online?”
“You shouldn’t threaten to break your contract.” Matt waves his phone towards Robert. “That’s super reckless! What if no one offers you a seat?”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Oh to be Robert, to have the world fall at his feet. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late for the anthem.”
In his very last race as an Andes driver, Matt DNFs on the first lap.
Yu-Jun apologizes to him profusely in the back of the medical car as they’re driven away, but really, Matt doesn’t mind.
It’s fitting, almost, to leave his Andes career in the wall on the first corner. A small, vindictive, part of him might even be satisfied, since the repairs will cost the team some amount of money. Maybe even a grid place penalty for the last race of the year.
A man can dream.
—Not that Matt would’ve ever crashed on purpose. He’s just looking at the bright side.
Once he’s back to his driver’s room, he answers all of his family’s concerns before opening a text from the Kaas team principal.
Joaquín, Kaas
Feel free to watch the rest of the race from our garage. Valerie will take care of you.
Matt doesn’t know who Valerie is, but Kaas wants him in their garage—which is more than he can say about Andes.
It’s easy to wander out to the paddock area when everyone else is distracted by the race. A woman in red and black spots Matt, flagging him down and guiding him through the Kaas garage. She parks him in the visitor’s section with a fresh set of headphones and a water bottle.
He’s still wearing his race suit—the white and pink of his Nomex contrasts against all of the black and red—but he still thinks he’s gotten away with hopping garages until a broadcast camera catches him.
Whatever. What’s Andes gonna do? Fire him?
Several of the Kaas mechanics turn to the visitors’ section, as if to see if he’s actually there. Matt gives a little wave back.
He focuses most of his attention on the communication from his new race engineer, taking mental notes about when and how she delivers information. She speaks clearly, which is always a positive. She also explains why Bandile should box instead of labelling it as ‘team decision’.
It makes Matt that much more excited—that much more eager—to start. The next time his face pops up on the broadcast, he’s smiling. He winks at the camera and continues watching.
Kaas finishes ninth and tenth. Robert finishes thirteenth.
Matt whoops with the garage and congratulates everyone on their double points finish.
A couple of the guys wander over to introduce themselves, and Matt vomits up compliments. It’s mostly just things he noticed while they worked and questions about why it might be different in his own garage.
“Because Jack didn’t think to do it that way.” One of the mechanics punches another—possibly the Jack in question.
“My way is perfectly fine!”
“Matt!” Joaquín waves him over and Matt excuses himself from the bickering mechanics. “I’m glad you could make it.”
“Thanks for inviting me.”
“Well, we were planning for next week, but I’m glad you were able to stop by earlier. Actually—” He scans the area before he asks, “Do you have a moment? I have something to talk with you about.”
“Sure…”
Fuck. Matt found out he was released from Andes from a breaking graphic—getting fired before he even starts isn’t a big stretch for him luck-wise.
Curious glances follow them as Matt is led through the garage and into the team principal’s office. When the door closes behind him with finality, Matt’s stomach drops.
“Our team is very excited to have you on board.” There’s a ‘but’ coming. “I hope you were able to gain something from today, even under the circumstances.”
Matt tenses. He’s so convinced there’s a ‘but’ coming that he doesn’t realize he’s expected to reply.
“Yeah! Yes, I—it was very helpful. Met some of the guys and got to see—hear—Aubrey in action. She speaks very well—succinctly, I mean. Not just good English, or something. I know she’s English, I mean.
I like her voice—but not in a weird way or something!
I can just hear it well over the noise of the garage.
She’s good, it’s good. I’m excited to start. ”
Joaquín smiles, but it looks sad.
Matt’s about to be fired again, isn’t he?
“They really did a number on you over at Andes, didn’t they?”
“What?” Matt’s pretty sure he didn’t mention Andes in his stupid little monologue. “Um, I am grateful for the four years I had with them, but I am eager to—”
“I’m sorry, I should have prefaced this with ‘You’re not in trouble’.” Oh. Good. “I know the TP’s office has a certain connotation to it, but I didn’t want anyone to overhear us.”
“Yes, sir.” Still, Matt won’t relax until he understands why they need to talk in secret.
“How do you feel about Robert?”
“What?!”
Did Joaquín know? There’s no way. How would anyone find out? Did Matt say something that may have indicated—?
“As a teammate? How do you feel about working alongside Robert?”
Matt’s heart is about to give out. “He’s—he’s good, he’s a good guy. Good.”
“I’m sure you already know, but he’s been talking with a couple of teams behind the scenes. At least one of them is a top team, so I don’t know how serious he was, but he did tell me he was particularly interested in Kaas.”
Matt gulps. “He did?”
“Yes. And, to be frank, Kaas could use the money.”
Any team could. It wasn’t a secret that Robert had sponsors—all anyone had to do was turn on a TV. Or read a magazine. Or walk around outside.
“Before I give him our answer, I wanted to be sure you two would get along. Fight cleanly. You seem friendly with each other, but so much of Formation 1 is PR relationships, so I wanted to ask you directly. Would you be interested in being teammates with Robert again?”
Matt tries not to sound too eager when he replies, “I’d like that very much, sir.”
Matt is welcomed back to his own garage by a barrage of boos and hisses—mostly from his own mechanics.
“Traitor!’ Reggie shouts.
“Get’em outta here!” Peter adds.
“You never loved us!” Nate fake-cries.
Matt laughs and he tries to wave them away. “Shut up, guys. You knew this day would come.”
“To be fair,” Nate says. “It’s coming a week early. We had a Vegas surprise for you and everything.”
“Yeah? Well, I designed a special going-away helmet so I guess we’re all disappointed.” Matt’s joking, but he’s really not.
He liked his ‘Goodbye Andes’ helmet.
“Heard you infiltrated the enemy.” Robert slides up beside him and wraps his arm around Matt’s waist. “Got anything we can use in the next race?”
“Um…” There’s a hand on Matt’s waist. Robert’s hand. Holding him close. In public. In front of everyone. “Yeah, uh—a couple of suggestions. It might be better if we keep it to ourselves, though. At least until next year.”
“Ourselves?” Robert squeezes him closer, a smile playing at his lips.
“Yeah. Until next year.”
Peter makes a retching noise that reminds Matt other people are watching. “I almost preferred it when they were fighting.”