With a sigh, I pull open the bag and shove a handful into my mouth.
The flavor hits my tongue, and instantly, my mood lifts.
Yum.
I forgot how good this is. Okay, maybe I’m not so salty about the special treatment after all.
“Hey,” I say to Kenji as he saunters over, hot pink velour pants slung low in a way that only he can pull off. “Great racing today.” Grinning, I give him a little bump with my hip.
He tips his head back and forth, smiling. “Not a bad start.”
He finished twelfth on the grid. While not in the points, he was pretty darn close. More importantly, he fought like hell after he had issues during qualifying and started P17.
“Improving five places is more than not bad,” I remind him.
It takes serious talent to move through the midfield like that, especially when the cars are already so well tuned. There weren’t many regulation changes between last year and this year, meaning the teams used a lot of last year’s data to perfect their vehicles during the offseason.
“I’m pleased,” he admits. “It’s only up from here.” Moving in closer, he snags a few pieces of popcorn from my bag and tosses them into his mouth. “I’m far more worried about my teammate than I am about myself right now, though,” he admits under his breath.
“I’ve got her.” I cross my arms over my chest and give my best friend another quick look.
She’s still deep in conversation with Prince, but as soon as she’s available, I’ll scoop her up in the biggest hug and try to take her mind off things.
“Movie’s starting,” Saint calls from the living room.
“Hang on,” Kenji hollers back. “Half of us are still getting snacks.”
“Oh, bring me another seltzer and a bowl of Coco Crunchies,” Saint yells.
With a roll of his eyes, Kenji gathers the requested items.
I can’t fight back my smile. These two bicker like an old married couple, but they really are the best of friends.
Kenji heads for the massive living room, and with a second bag of popcorn in hand, I meander that way, too.
“Is this seat taken?” I ask, hovering near one of the open spots next to Lincoln.
“I was saving it for you,” he replies, his tone more suave than usual.
I cock one brow at his attempt at flirting, and in response, he ducks, attention darting away.
Shit. The bashful look instantly makes me regret teasing him. Lincoln is the softest, sweetest driver on the grid. He struggles with intense anxiety and regularly defaults to laughing or smiling to mask his emotions. He’s really candid about his mental health, and he’s doing brilliant work with the foundation he started.
“Congrats on today,” I tell him, settling in and tucking my legs under me. I take up more space than I need, but I want to save a spot for Mia.
Lincoln started in P3 and finished P2, securing his first podium of the year.
“Where’d you watch from?” A yawn escapes him on the last word. It’s been a long day for everyone, but especially the drivers.
“I was in the grandstands by turns eleven and twelve. You were brilliant on that overtake on lap seven.”
He lights up in a genuine smile. “Thanks. I thought you’d appreciate that one. I was going to show you a replay if you hadn’t seen it yet.”
Lincoln is like a stealthy ninja on the track. He knows when to push, when to pull back, and how to maintain the apex while also defending his position until he’s put enough time between himself and the car behind him.
He overtook Luca on lap seven, leaving him choking on dirty air and unable to maintain his position. My ex started P5 today, but he finished in seventh. He still earned points for Waytrek, but Lincoln’s overtake initiated a sequence of events that resulted in Luca losing another place after that.
With an arm on the back of the couch behind me, he ducks in closer. “Hey. So, listen… I heard what Kenji and Saint were saying the othernight at dinner. I want you to know that goes for me as well. You’re one of us, and you belong here.”
