Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Jacintha and I stride out to the paddock, through the garage, and across the pit lane to an opening in the barrier and onto the track.
Nico’s there already, looking unfairly good in WolfBett blue and gold. He’s wearing the same FuegoFrío trackies I have on. He holds out a black visorless helmet. The production lot are providing them with all the other kit. No visors so the in-car cameras can capture our expressions. The jerks.
He smiles as we walk toward the car and crew. “Ready to lose, corazón?”
“In your dreams, Bunny Boy.”
The producer, Sarah, hands both of us a set of spiral-bound cue cards.
Each has a question printed in a large font.
“Right then, drivers! These are your trivia questions. Some you suggested, some our writers created, all pre-approved by both of you. We’ll flip a coin to see who drives first. The driver asks questions about themselves from their cards, the passenger has to guess.
Get it right, you swap positions. Wrong answer means the driver keeps going.
Whichever driver crosses the finish line at the end of the second lap gets to do victory donuts. ”
I flip through my cards. There are questions about my childhood fears, my hospitalization, my secret indulgences. Nico does the same with his.
She steps between us, the coin in her palm. “Heads or tails?”
Nico nods at me. “Your call.”
I smirk. “Tails.”
Sarah tosses an American quarter and catches it, then turns it onto the back of her hand. “Tails it is.”
I punch the air. “Yes! I drive first.” I snatch the car key from her hand.
“This will be terrifying,” Nico mutters, sliding into the passenger seat and buckling in. But he’s grinning.
I settle behind the wheel and start the car, then rev the engine and launch us toward the turn 1 hairpin with enough force to pin us back in our seats.
“?Caramba, Petra!” Nico grabs the door handle as I drift through the first corner, the rear end sliding out in a controlled arc. “Are you trying to kill us for content?”
“Just warming up the tires.” I continue through 2, 3, and 4, then straighten the car out and floor it down the first straight. “Right then, first question from my cards. What’s a childhood habit I had that wasn’t racing related and why did I do it?”
I brake hard into the next corner, later than I would in a race, just to mess with him. Nico tenses beside me.
“Ay, you brake late.” He’s gripping his harness now, but there’s admiration in his voice. “Um... you collected rocks because you thought they were pretty?”
“Half right.” I drift us through a chicane, tires smoking. “I did collect stones, but not because they were pretty. I needed something to keep my fingers busy when I felt anxious. Wrong answer on the why, so I keep driving.”
“Madre, Petra,” he mutters as I hug the next corner. “Should’ve known it was deeper than just liking shiny things. You never do anything simple.”
“Simple is for losers.” I clip the apex dangerously close to the barriers. “Next question. What’s the one thing I’m most afraid of off the track?”
“Easy. You’re terrified of being mediocre.” He braces as we rocket through sector 2, the speedometer climbing rapidly. “Which is why I’m currently terrified you’re going to put us through a wall. Now tell me I’m right so I can drive before you get us killed for the cameras.”
“Correct!” I immediately hit the brakes, the car sliding to a controlled stop. “Your turn, champ. Try to keep up.”
We swap seats quickly, and Nico settles behind the wheel with a grin that should probably worry me.
“Finally.” He launches us forward with even more aggression than I showed. “Payback time, corazón.”
The acceleration pins me to my seat as he launches the car, the Strip blurring before he takes the racing line, then gets the rear end loose through sector 3’s left-right-left sequence, doubtless just to show off.
“Bloody hell, Nico!” I grasp the door handle. “We’re not supposed to actually hit anything!”
“Says the woman who just used the barriers as braking markers.” He takes us uncomfortably close to the outside wall. “My first question. What hobby do I have that will surprise people?”
“Jesus, how close to that wall do you plan to get?” The barrier flashes past my window. “Um... you collect vintage racing magazines?”
“No.” He laughs and drifts us through 17, tires screaming. “Try again while I demonstrate what ‘controlled oversteer’ actually looks like.”
“Bollocks. Okay, you... knit?”
“?Por díos!” He throws me a look and nearly misses the next apex. “I keep driving.”
“Fine, fine. What’s your secret hobby then?”
“Surfing.”
“Oh, bloody hell, I knew that!”
Nico laughs. “Next question.” He drifts through the same hairpin I did. “What do I watch to relax that would shock the paddock?”
“Wait, what?” I’m distracted by his proximity to various solid objects. “You already answered that one, you cheater!”
“Different question. Pay attention while I show you how to properly exit a corner.”
“I know how to exit a bloody corner!” But I’m thinking while he demonstrates his point with unnecessary drama. “And I know this answer. Bollywood films. RRR is your favorite because Nicolina corrupted you.”
“Exacto.” He brakes hard, putting the car exactly parallel to a camera crew. “My sister has excellent taste. Your turn to drive.”
We swap again, and I’m back behind the wheel and halfway through sector 1. Time to remind this champion why I’m called Tenacious P.
“Let’s see what this car can really do,” I mutter, immediately sending us into the first corner sideways, using every millimeter of available track.
“?Madre mía!” Nico’s voice actually squeaks. “The producers said exciting, not suicidal!”
“Don’t be such a baby. This would’ve made Ken Block proud.” I thread us between barriers with centimeters to spare.
He’s laughing now. “Why am I not surprised you idolize rally drivers?”
“Whooo! Next question.” I glance at him while maintaining a perfect slide through turn 8. “Which driver visited me in hospital when I was being treated for disordered eating?”
The mood shifts even as I continue pushing the car to its limits. Nico goes quiet for a moment despite the controlled chaos of our driving.
“Lewis Hamilton.” His voice is gentle even over the engine noise.
“Correct.” I brake hard and slide us to a stop for our final swap. “He told me champions aren’t the ones who never fall. They’re the ones who always get back up.”
We switch seats, but Nico doesn’t immediately start driving. “You didn’t have to include that question.”
“I know. But kids watching this need to understand we’re not superheroes. We’re just people who refuse to quit when things get hard.” The fact that he knows how personal this is shows how well Nico Belmonte knows me.
He nods, then accelerates into sector 2’s sweeping curve. “Last question determines the winner.” He brakes hard for turn 12’s sharp left, showing off, then stomps on the accelerator, sending the car screaming down the track’s long straight. “What’s the most important thing I learned this season?”
He initiates a slide that sends us sideways through two consecutive corners, smoke pouring from the tires, the car dancing on the edge of control. But for once, I’m not really thinking about winning. I’m thinking about how Nico’s always been there for me, always believed in me, always respected me.
I look over at him. Nico Belmonte fell in love first, but it took me forever and a day to realize it.
“Well?” He glances at me. “Running out of track, TenazP.”
Instead of shouting my answer over the engine noise, I reach over and grab his question cards.
“I’m done playing this game.” I toss his cards and mine into the back seat. “No more guessing.”
“What are you doing?” He’s still in control of the Mercedes, but I hear the confusion in his voice.
“I’ll tell you the most important thing you learned this season, Nico.” I know this for a fact because it’s the same thing I learned.
His brow furrows as he straightens us out toward the finish line. “Okay. What?”
“That I love you.”
He stomps on the brakes. The seatbelts lock us in place.
The AMG skids to a stop, tires squealing, smoke billowing around us. The acrid stink of burning rubber fills the cockpit. We’re still a good hundred meters from the finish line.
Nico slowly turns his head to face me. “What?” His voice is barely a whisper.
“I love you, Nico Belmonte.” My voice is steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me from both the driving and the confession.
“Not because you’re a world champion or because you’re beautiful behind the wheel of a race car.
I love you because you’re good and kind and you’ve been protecting people your whole life without asking for anything in return. ”
He yanks off his helmet, hair disheveled, then reaches over and helps me with mine. “Say it again, Petra.” He cups my face with his hands.
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“Te amo, you ridiculous man.”
He leans close and pulls me closer and kisses me three times, then whispers, “I love you too, corazón,” against my lips.
He tastes of coffee and victory and everything we’ve fought through to get here.
“Um,” Sarah’s voice comes through our headsets. She sounds somewhere between stunned and delighted. “Should we keep rolling?”
Nico pulls back just enough to grin at me. “Ready to cross the finish line?”
I nod, thinking he’ll swap places with me. Instead he stomps on the accelerator. The tires squeal and smoke and we rocket toward the finish line.
I gape at him. “Hey, it’s my turn!”
“No.” He’s smirking as he shakes his head. “You cheated, so I win on a technicality.”
“You’re the cheater!” I laugh as we cross the finish line in a cloud of tire smoke.
Nico immediately peels off to do victory donuts, spinning the AMG in perfect circles while cameras capture every moment of controlled chaos and the two of us laughing like bloody idiots.
“Oh my God, you’re such a show-off!” Of course I love every minute of it. And him.