Mateo huffed, but warmth spread from his center. It was nice to be complimented sometimes, even if it was obviously bull.
“I’m glad we’re doing this together,” Bobby continued. “That’s what I’ll be happy to remember. Not this hard-ass ground.”
“Yeah, at least we’re suffering together.”
“Exactly!”
Matt doesn’t win any points for the next three races.
Neither does Robert, so at least they’re suffering together.
Matt wouldn’t dare say it, though. He can’t utter a word about the good times, just in case Robert feels the need to trample all over them. The need to squash any remnants of their shared past that might remind him that Matt is human too.
That they mattered to each other once.
Now, Matt and Robert sleep in hotel beds. Their team flies them from city to city across the globe. They eat food that has never been canned.
Matt doesn’t snort when he laughs anymore.
He misses the good ole days.
“Who is most likely to… finish their reading goal for the year?”
Matt and Robert both raise their own name signs.
“You have a reading goal for the year?” Matt asks, shocked. Sure, Robert said he doesn’t know him anymore, but how could one person change so completely?
“Of course not,” Robert replies with a cocky smile. “That’s why I’ve already accomplished it.”
Matt barks out a surprised laugh. When he snorts on an inhale, he immediately sobers, his cheeks flaming.
I like your laugh. No. Shut up. Not anymore.
“Who is… the better cook?”
“Don’t lie this time, Hernandez.”
“I’m not! Look—” Matt shows him the‘Robert’sign he’s holding up. “I know my strengths.”
“Yeah? What are your strengths?”
“Opening cans. Ordering food for delivery. Reading.”
“I can stillread, you little shit.” It sounds threatening, but Robert’s laughing now, too.
That’s new.
The spotlight’s too bright and too warm on Matt's face at the sponsorship event. It’s just a sit-down thing where the drivers perch on stools in front of a bunch of sponsors and their guests before the race. None of them are fans of the sport, so they ask the same ‘favorite track’ and ‘what would you do if you didn’t drive’-type questions they get asked all the time.
“How do your parents feel about your driving?”
“Well, uh, it’s the family business for me.” Robert sounds surprised to have to explain it. “My father and grandfather drove for FASCAR, so it’s more of the same to them.”
Matt has to restrain himself from explaining how different the two series are. Robert’s the only one in the room who would care, and he’s already heard and recited the same spiel for nearly his entire life.
“And, um, you?” the person with the microphone asks.
In this crowd, nobody knows Matt isn’t as important, isn’t as beloved as Robert. They keep looking to him like his answer also matters, like both drivers are on the same level. It’s almost unnerving.
