47. TIAGO
TIAGO
We crushed Mexico – the whole team was literally in flow state – but all I could think about was a certain pretty girl back in London.
Despite the tricoloured outpouring of Mexican support for the only Latin driver on the grid, I felt like a part of me was missing.
No secret meetings, no hidden lunches, no gif updates on our respective goals.
Every time I saw a tiny fluffy mic I felt a pang of sadness.
Every time I neared Martinelli’s hospitality unit, I scanned the crowds reflexively.
Is this how it’s going to be next year? I’ve had a lifetime of seasons without Jules but now I’ve had one, I can’t imagine anything else. Work would feel totally empty. My life would feel totally empty. The thought of going back to picking girls up at clubs makes my skin crawl.
Logan’s livestream is doing the rounds too, but in clips and edits that make him look like the malicious, ignorant, prejudiced dickface he is.
There’s a lot of hate, rightfully, on that Autism comment, and since Jules’ next podcast series is based on living with OCD, the OCD campaigners are taking up arms. Logan’s currently injured and on the bench, but I think it’s all for show.
He gets booed whenever he steps onto the field.
As we pull up to Jules’ house, I’m not worried about what I’m walking into like last time. My heart was in my throat; I could barely breathe as I hurried up the short path. But Jules just sent me a Cheetah Girls meme so I think we’re good.
She opens the door in a sombrero, and before I can ask, she blows a party popper.
‘P8!’ Her smile stops my heart. ‘Felicitaciones, campeón.’
I didn’t think there was anything sexier than her speaking with a British accent, but I was wrong. Very, very wrong.
I clear my throat. ‘Gracias.’
‘I have something to show you.’ She takes my hand and pulls me through the door.
She’s not the touchy-feely type so my heart threatens all kinds of gymnastics and I have to give myself a hard mental shake.
I manage to kick my boots off somewhere on the stairs as we head up to her study.
There’s barely any time to hope it’s a sex swing.
She presents an email on her Mac – not as fun as a sex swing – but my attention piques when I see who it’s from.
F1 Academy.
‘They want a closer, long-term partnership,’ Jules says, too impatient to let me read it.
‘They talk about female-led leadership, agency, strength, identity. They want me for me, Tiago. Tom doesn’t come into it anymore.
I’ve always been associated with brands either connected to my boyfriend or aesthetics, like beauty, fashion, skincare, fitness. This is completely unprecedented.
‘And I’ve had emails from female investment brands, female sports brands, global wellbeing brands – even the meditation and mindfulness app! They all want me, Tiago.’
That’s no surprise, of course they do. ‘That’s really amazing.’
She doesn’t need proximity to power anymore – she is the power. She doesn’t need to be chosen or associated. Her eyes are shining; it’s the happiest she’s looked in weeks. I can’t help smiling with her.
But as stoked as I am, that doesn’t leave much room for someone like me. Jumping headlong from a relationship with one driver to another doesn’t exactly align with the whole empowered woman thing. I can’t see her wanting to be with any athlete period, let alone a P8.
She’s practically glowing so I force my smile to widen and try to focus on being together in the paddock next year, which is more than I thought I’d have when I walked in here. I’ll make it enough. What choice do I have?
‘I can really do this,’ she says. ‘I’m so relieved it actually hurts.
’ She gives an airy laugh and it kills me she ever questioned that.
She’s the smartest, sharpest, most hard-working person I know.
An empire like that can’t crumble over some loser ex who probably thought DRS stood for Defence Reaction Strategy, and wondered where the endzone was on the track.
I’m itching to hold her but I don’t want to make it harder for myself. I tuck my hands in my pockets so they don’t reach out in a moment of weakness. ‘Psyched that you’re going to be at races next year.’
‘Not as many, but definitely some. It’ll be awkward seeing Tom—’
‘Oh you won’t see Tom.’
She cocks her head.
‘Tom’s retiring at the end of this season.’
‘What?’ It takes long seconds for that to sink in and I try not to look too smug. ‘How do you know and I don’t?’
I give a noncommittal shrug. ‘Because Martinelli offered me his seat.’
Her face goes slack, eyes filled with barely contained joy. ‘Tiago—’
I hold my hands up. ‘Woah, slow down. I said no.’
‘What?!’
I’m not too proud to say knowing she prefers men at the top of their field was a consideration, but I couldn’t do it to my team. JC, Isa and I had a long conversation about it – JC thought I was an idiot; Isa was proud of my loyalty – and I can make a bigger difference at Leone.
I’m not totally giving up fighting for the Championship.
I really think we have the skills and drive to get there – maybe the year after next.
We wouldn’t be the first development team to do it, but we’d make the best story.
No points for three years to suddenly rivalling our parent team.
Maybe Jules can get us a feature in People Magazine.
As for Volare, I realised I liked the idea of them more than the team itself. Everything Jules said was true – they never valued me, and why would I want to drive for a constructor who I’m hoping Leone will knock to number six in Brazil next week?
‘Leone bet on me when no one else would. They’re finally coming into their own, and what kind of driver would I be if I left them now? What kind of person?’
A smile plays on her lips. ‘You’re amazing.’
Hope fills me like a balloon but I crush it. She’s just being a good friend. ‘Plus my dad and his buddies are going to invest.’
Her eyebrows fly up.
‘A smart person once told me to not make decisions based on blanket rules I set for myself years ago,’ I parrot back to her, and her eyes soften.
‘This sport’s full of nepo babies, and I know I got to where I am on my own merit.
Leone have all the expertise, they just need a cash injection, and I know where to get one. ’
She hits my chest with the back of her hand. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘You had your own shit going on.’
‘You still should’ve. This is important.’
‘Next time,’ I say. ‘I couldn’t have done it without you.’
She nudges my chest with her shoulder and I feel it all over. ‘Back at you.’
I want to kiss her so much it’s making me light-headed.
This is starting to feel like the last time, and panic burns hot inside me.
Minutes, days, weeks are slipping through my fingers and I want to grip on with everything I have.
We haven’t had enough – enough kisses, enough touches, enough secrets, enough jokes, enough stories, enough memories.
My body has tuned itself to fit her. I don’t think it’s possible to get hard for someone else.
Next year, she’ll be with another athlete, reliving the same pattern.
Maybe she’ll sleep with them, maybe she won’t, but imagining her riding some other dude isn’t what makes my stomach turn the most. What if he’s another Damian?
What if he hurts her? What if he falls for her hard exterior, and can’t be bothered to look for the sweet, sensitive, sincere woman underneath?
I might be a risk-taker, but some things are simply too precious to risk.
‘I’m so in love with you Jules,’ I hear myself say. I didn’t plan this, and frankly I’ve surprised myself, but nothing has ever felt more true. It’s a shot in the dark, and if it backfires and Jules never wants to speak to me again, I won’t regret her knowing.
Her lips part. ‘What?’
‘You know I am.’
Her pupils flare and she starts to shrink like a cornered animal. I tell myself my admission’s out of the blue and she has trauma from past relationships. I can’t expect her to leap into my arms. She once said I’m not capable of being monogamous. She’s wrong, and I’m going to prove it to her.
‘Let me be your biggest cheerleader. Let me be your sounding board. Let me remind you how beautiful you are every single day. Let me be the one who flies to you. Let my family be your family. Just let me, Jules, and I’ll do the rest. You deserve that.
You spend your life lifting other people up; it’s about time someone lifted you up. ’
A single tear streams down her cheek. ‘We’re two alphas. It’d never work.’ She sniffs.
‘What makes you think I’m an alpha where you’re concerned?’
‘You could have anyone,’ she tries again, wiping her face.
I step towards her slowly, and she doesn’t draw away. ‘I don’t want anyone. I want you.’
‘But I’m hard work.’
I drag my thumb over her bottom lip. ‘I’ve never been afraid of a little hard work,’ I whisper.
I capture her mouth before she can spout any more nonsense. Her hand finds my sweater, crushing us together so there isn’t a single gap between our bodies. I cradle her head like it’s the most valuable thing to me. Her mind might argue, but her body doesn’t.
She rests her forehead against my chest and mumbles something ever so quietly. I’d hear it if she were standing on the other side of a packed stadium. She has to be listening to my heartbeat, it’s pounding like I’m heat training.
I lift her chin with my index finger. ‘What was that, Mouse Butler?’
I hold my breath as she bites her bottom lip. ‘I said I love you too, you annoying menace.’
Good enough for me.
I’m about to go in again when her finger lifts to the space between us.
‘My career comes first,’ she says.
I shrug. ‘That’s fine. Mine doesn’t.’
She nods seriously and drops her gaze, thoughts twisting behind a guarded expression. I run the backs of my fingers softly across her cheek.
‘Wait.’ She pulls apart and goes to her drawers, pulling out a very familiar sheet of paper. It’s much smoother than my copy, having not been crumpled and shoved in a pocket. ‘We won’t be needing this anymore.’
She holds the contract out ceremonially and I can’t help but grin when she rips it down the middle.
‘In the spirit of openness,’ I scratch the back of my neck, unsure why I feel the need to be honest about this, ‘I lied about my side of the bargain. I didn’t know Tom.’
‘I know.’
‘Like, I didn’t know him at all. I’d barely spoken to him in my life.’
She tongues the inside of her cheek, amused. ‘It didn’t work out so badly, did it?’
Well this is going better than I thought. ‘Also… When we first met, I didn’t sabotage your chances with Tom because it was a slow party. I wanted you to pick me.’
She winds her arms around my neck. ‘I did pick you.’
‘I was an insecure asshole back then. I don’t blame you at all.’
She flutters her eyelashes at me. ‘Any other lies you want to get off your chest?’
‘Nope, I’m done.’ I tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. ‘I know this doesn’t conform to your new era, but we can keep it between us. Hell, we’ve been doing it for months.’
A little piece of me wilts at the thought but if this is the only way I can have her, so be it.
I was grateful she was partnering with F1 Academy; now I’m grateful she wants me at all.
It’s probably too much to want a real, public relationship right away.
Who knows, next year, when the dust’s settled, things could look different.
Watching the race from Leone’s garage. Running onto the track when I win a podium.
Dinners. Vacations. South Beach. Medellín. Cartagena.
She shakes her head slowly. ‘I don’t want to lie anymore. It doesn’t look great, but I’ll get through it.’
I try not to show the full extent of my relief. ‘We,’ I correct, trailing a hand down her arm to take her hand. ‘We’ll get through it together.’
A true smile lights up her face and I can’t hold on any longer. I scoop my girl over my shoulder.
‘Stop!’ she shrieks, and I freeze. ‘Do you like Selling Sunset?’
‘What?’
‘The reality show, Selling Sunset.’
‘It’s not my favourite – I don’t love LA. Selling the OC’s more my bag because I used to live there and I recognise areas of it, but I’ll watch both.’
‘You’re not scared of all the yelling?’
‘Yelling? Julie, I’m South American. My family speak in all caps.’
‘Ok, continue.’
‘We good?’
‘Yup.’
I don’t know what test I just passed but I’ll take it. I make for her bedroom, giving her ass a spank for good measure. She yelps and my chuckle’s hoarse.
‘So we’re not going to be one of those boring couples, then?’ she asks mildly, but I can hear the smile in her voice.
‘Mami, you have no idea.’