39. Callum
I sighed impatiently and flipped the pen through my fingers.
I was half listening to the chatter around me, but as usual, my mind was anywhere but here.
The last time I saw Aurélie was yesterday during the debrief.
Our teams were doing as they promised by keeping us apart, and seemingly on opposite ends of the paddock entirely.
My eyes flicked to the clock on the wall across the room. I hated that I couldn’t stop keeping track.
Thirty-one hours since I’d seen her. Fifty-seven hours since her body was under mine and her legs were wrapped around my waist, her mouth begging for more against my ear.
Less than three fucking days. It didn’t sound like much, but it was hell . I didn’t realize how often I looked for her or found excuses to be near her until the opportunities were taken from me. I hated it.
The sound of her voice over the phone and the teasing photos in fleeting moments we got to ourselves felt like settling.
It wasn’t the same, not even close, and it certainly wasn’t enough.
She was here in Barcelona, somewhere in the paddock or at least the same damn city, but every time I looked up, she wasn’t there like she used to be.
“You’re quiet today,” Marco said beside me, signing the last of the posters for a fan giveaway table. “More broody than usual, I mean.”
Startled from my thoughts, I shrugged and capped the black Sharpie in my hand, leaning back against the uncomfortable plastic chair. “I’m fine.”
He snickered. “Did someone steal your morning tea, or is it still the fact that your not-girlfriend is staying on the other side of the city?” I glowered at him.
“What? You’ve got that ‘I’d sell my soul to see her in my shirt again’ face.
It’s very obvious. You do realize your jaw tenses every time someone says ‘Luminis’ or ‘Dubois,’ right? ”
We’d been stuck in meetings and media obligations since this morning—interviews, photos, a livestream Q&A where some idiot asked about my rivalry with Aurélie.
Meanwhile, I’d had to keep my face blank while they played clips of her overtaking me .
Using my signature move. And I’d felt myself twitch in my fucking jeans.
Professionalism? Gone.
Focus? Complete shot.
I found myself texting her every spare second I got and checking each hallway and alley in the paddock like a lunatic—or maybe more like an obsessive boyfriend. Which I wasn’t. We hadn’t discussed labels yet, but she was mine and I wanted everyone to know it.
The sound of feminine laughter from the Vanguard hospitality area drew my attention. For a moment, I thought it was hers, but it was one of the staff. It just pissed me off more.
“Fuck off,” I grumbled, tossing the Sharpie on the table and folding my arms across my chest. It was mostly to conceal my clenched fists, but also to appear nonchalant.
“I don’t know what you’re expecting out of this, mate. Help me understand, because the man sitting here with me is one missed text away from writing her name in a notebook with little hearts.”
“There’s nothing for you to understand.”
“Really? You bail early on a victory after-party in Italy, then you risk everything to get her out of a crowded paddock in Monaco, and now you’re pouting because you’re being forced to focus on your fucking jobs. So what is this really about?”
I didn’t answer right away, and that alone made Marco side-eye me. The truth was… I didn’t fucking know why this bothered me so much. I knew it wasn’t just about her, or the PR restrictions, or all the bullshit press.
It was everything after . After every race, after the season ended, after the final checkered flag in my career. What then?
I’d spent half the morning listening to some kid from a crypto-backed junior team talk about Twitch streams and podcast brand deals, and the other half was spent answering emails from my investment manager asking if I wanted to move forward with two new startups and an oceanfront real estate project in Spain.
It was all feeling a bit cumbersome, repetitive, and unfulfilling. If my future looked like passive income, luxury properties, and sitting on advisory boards for things I didn’t care about just because my name opened doors, then I’d rather race until I died in some fatal crash.
I didn’t know who I was without racing. Until this season, I lived in the blur that was the world of Formula 1. And now, being on the track didn’t feel like enough anymore either, except for when she was there.
When Aurélie was around, the world was more interesting.
It gave me a purpose, challenged me, rekindled the fiery passion I felt for this sport.
Every lap meant something, and every race had weight.
She made the whole damn circus feel like it mattered.
But most importantly, she made me feel like I mattered.
She made me slow down enough to realize just how incredible life was with the right person by your side. What the morning after race day could look like—sex and cuddles and full of so much fucking laughter my stomach ached.
I loved her so goddamn much.
I knew that one day, I would retire from the sport, and I would need something else. That something else was her . When I looked at her, I saw my past, present, and future. It was terrifying and haunting and beautiful and messy, and I embraced every single moment of it.
I just wanted her here with me.
elle saura.
My tattoo. After all these years, I finally found her. I just couldn’t keep her in my grip long enough to feel like she wasn’t slipping away.
I dropped my head back against the chair and let out a slow breath through my nose.
Marco watched me suffer through my existential crisis. Scrutinizing me, slowly and silently, he then sat up a little straighter and blurted, “Maybe she’s just got a really good pussy.”
I blinked at him. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
He grinned. “I’m just saying, that level of self-destruction is definitely not over personality alone.”
“Marco.”
“Or maybe,” he continued, dramatic as hell as he balanced on the back two legs of his chair, “you’ve just finally met the one person who makes your emotionally repressed ass feel something deeper than tire degradation.”
I swiped the Sharpie off the table and threw it at him. He dodged it, laughing.
“Pathetic. The ultimate playboy has been collared. What a tragedy to the female species.”
“Shut the fuck up and go cry into your race boots or something,” I snapped.
Marco just kept cackling like my personal hell was his favorite form of entertainment. He leaned closer and nudged his elbow against mine. I shoved his shoulder. “I’m going to share your little meltdown with the group. They deserve to witness the downfall.”
I didn’t stop him. Quite frankly, I didn’t care. Just because Aurélie and I convinced Marco and Kimi that we were waiting didn’t change anything between us.
Marco
Fraser is currently staring into the void like a man who just discovered feelings are, in fact, fatal. @Kimi
Kimi
Mate. Is he okay?
Marco
Unclear. He sighed so loud just now I felt it in my soul. This is after he’s spent the entire day being a grumpy asshole, btw.
Do you two not have literally ANYTHING better to do?
Kimi
Do YOU not have a girlfriend you’re definitely “not seeing until the end of the season”?
Marco
Still the funniest lie I’ve ever heard.
“We’re just waiting until the season is over.”
Mate. You’ve been sulking since we left Monaco.
I shook my head and kicked Marco under the table. He groaned and slammed the front legs of his chair down.
“Ow. That hurt,” he whined.
“Grow a pair.” I quickly tapped out another response.
We are waiting.
Kimi
Sure, and I’m celibate.
Marco
I heard you growl when a reporter asked you about your rivalry with her.
Kimi
LMFAO HE DID. I saw the video online. People can’t tell if it’s because he hates her or if there’s something more.
Marco
brO. Did you read the newest chapter of Red Flagged & Red Lace?
Kimi
YES. I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU TO brING IT UP.
Them breaking into the garages to study the cars up close and personal…
Aurélie
This is getting boring. Fraser, want another pic to get you through to December??
I choked, feeling hot all over and suddenly desperate to see her.
Of fucking course I wanted another picture. I wanted a fuck ton more than that too, and she knew it.
Marco barked out a laugh, his eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Oh, she’s good. She’s got you by the balls, mate.”
Kimi
Damn, she’s hardcore.
Marco
He’s just flat out hard.
Kimi
HAHAHAHA
Marco
I give it… four more hours before one of them breaks.
Wait.
Scratch that. Fraser’s furiously typing.
He looks like he’s on the verge of writing porn poetry in the margins of his race notes.
You’re all fucking insufferable.
Aurélie
And yet you keep coming back for more.
Kimi
@Marco, don’t even think about it. I can’t handle Dubois being any more irritable than she has been.
Marco
Oh, you mean just like how Fraser keeps coming for Dubois.
You know.
Because, sexy times.
Aurélie
YEAH. WE GOT THAT.
If either of you say anything else, I will break about a thousand laws on live TV. None of them end well for you two.
I locked my phone screen, my pulse thudding hard enough that I felt it in my teeth. My temples throbbed, and unfortunately, so did my traitorous dick. It was always a turn-on to see her sense of humor. The way she bit back and held no prisoners.
Marco gave me a smug grin. “You okay?”
No, I was absolutely the fuck not.
“Yup. Fine,” I muttered, climbing to my feet and stretching my arms over my head.
“Going for a walk?” he asked, a little too casually.
Actually, I planned to hunt her down. I could blow off some of my media obligations and take the fine for it. Whatever. I always played by the rules, but I was feeling a little more than sick and fucking tired of the rules.
They were getting between me and the love of my life.