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Sophie
After our Monaco cliff-diving disaster, I establish new boundaries with Liam. I went too far with him on the beach, flirting with disaster and pushing him to his limit. I devise a plan to prevent us from doing something dumb. Well, maybe to stop me from doing something stupid, like hooking up with him to satisfy a craving.
The first phase of my plan includes making myself look as unattractive as humanly possible. My ugliest and baggiest clothes protect me. Forget about makeup. Yesterday, Maya asked me if I was feeling all right. I grinned at her, telling her she made my day. All I got in return was a furrowed brow and confused eyes. Maya wouldn’t understand the complexity of the situation because I can’t, with Liam messing with my mind as much as my lower region. Never in my life did I think I could be led by lust, but here I am, striving to look half dead to deter the sexiest man in F1.
I only plan on doing friendship activities with Liam. Maybe if he sees me sweaty, dirty, and downright boyish, his attraction will end for me. Although the bulge in his swimsuit yesterday showed promise, I need it nowhere near me. And frankly, he can use some time without female companions because his dick has gotten more press coverage than a Kardashian.
This plan needs to work because I enjoy Liam’s friendship. I don’t want to lose him because of our attraction to each other. I’m very aware of my desires toward him, but I can be mature and not act on them. Liam just needs to get the memo.
Since Maya and I struggle with F1’s finest, we get to work together to avoid the objects of our attractions. Noah likes her, that part is obvious, but he doesn’t want a serious relationship. To be honest, I was impressed when he asked me to sit with her at the Monaco Grand Prix. His request is the reason I hang out in the stands with her, overlooking the finish line where I danced around with Liam a few days ago. The memory brings a smile to my face.
Maya preps for her vlog while I check out the cars being placed in their grid spots. Liam’s team situates his car near the front of the group, his steel-gray car noticeable.
The Monaco Grand Prix is a difficult course, requiring lots of skill and patience. Noah landed the pole position, my dad’s favorite spot on the whole grid. This track has many twists and turns, along with tight roads and narrow straights that make it difficult to overtake other drivers without damaging the cars. It’s a big challenge for anyone below P1 to win.
Red lights shine above the cars. Mechanics rush to remove the tire warmers from the wheels before running off the track. Once the lights shut off, the drivers accelerate. The crowd bursts with energy as the drivers careen down the road.
I love the comforting sound of cars rushing by. It reminds me of childhood summers spent with my dad while he worked, with him giving me headphones to listen to some of the best F1 drivers. He would let me talk to the racers for a few minutes on the team radio. It was the coolest thing ever when I was young, with my dad making me a huge fan since day one.
I focus on watching the race, rooting for Bandini and McCoy. Any fan can appreciate both teams continuously trying to one-up each other. Noah, an F1 icon in the making, doesn’t give other drivers much of an opportunity to pass him.
With Santiago on the team, it increases Bandini’s chances of winning the team’s Constructors’ Championship, which occurs at the same time as the World Championship. Despite Noah and Santi’s rough history, they have a chance of winning. Plus, if Bandini wins the World Championship, then they get the biggest funds to work on their cars. It would be a huge deal for the team because F1 teams spend heaps of money.
McCoy remains in a close second place spot with Liam at the wheel. Jax follows behind, leaving little space between the two McCoy cars. Despite his friendship with Liam, the two drivers compete savagely against one another, not letting up their positions easily.
Cars speed down the track, sounding like jets rushing by. Smoke billows from the tires as cars hit maximum speeds during the straights. Some drivers graze barrier edges before gaining control of their car again, the squealing sounds of tires echoing off the buildings.
Liam’s gray car passes us again as he clocks in another fast lap. He remains consistent on the track, his front wing keeping close to Noah’s rear as they turn together at another corner.
Sparks fly as his gray car hits a tight corner. The grating sound of crunching metal tearing against pavement makes a cold chill spread across my body. I cringe at the scene glistening under the sun, smoke billowing from the engine. The entire side of Liam’s car is totaled with the tire dislodged and rolling away. Liam remains in the cockpit of his car, hitting his helmet with closed fists.
My heart clenches at his defeated state, with me unable to do anything but watch. Drivers tend to be an emotional group of guys. Tensions, adrenaline, and passion fuel negative reactions when confronted with losses and mistakes.
I get up from my seat to get a better look.
“At least he’s safe. Poor guy.” Maya’s sweet voice rings over the crowd.
“He’s going to be pissed. That’ll be a blow to the World Championship and Constructors’.”
Liam has to retire, a hard loss for any racer. His crash will knock his standing for the World Championship, plus he forfeits points for the team’s Constructors’ Championship.
My hands shake as I grip the plastic chair in front of me, my legs locked in place as Liam is taken away in a safety car. They announce how physically he’s all clear. His medical clearance doesn’t make the knock to his ego any less powerful, his crash being a bitter pill to swallow with McCoy questioning his value to the team.
I no longer feel up to watching the race now that Liam is out of it. Noah ends up placing first, no shocker there.
For some ridiculous reason, I walk over to McCoy’s motorhome after the race.
Liam stands in a nearby hall with his agent and Peter McCoy. Peter sneers at Liam, his bald head gleaming under the overhead lighting while his face barely contains his rage.
My body plasters itself against a wall, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Liam looks unfairly sexy in his white race suit. Muscles press against the flameproof fabric, emphasizing a nice ass and strong legs. Most of his sweaty blonde hair sticks to his forehead while a few strands stand up in multiple directions. His lean frame towers over the two men, his spine straight and his jaw ticking under pressure.
“You’re not performing to our expectations. I question if you’re worth a fifteen-million-dollar contract. Crashes like that beg to differ. It’s something we’d expect from a young racer instead of a World Champion.” Peter’s baritone voice reverberates through the hall.
“I wonder if Bandini told Noah and Santiago the same thing when they crashed into each other in Shanghai. Can you imagine, the great Noah Slade, crashing into a teammate? He’s still considered worthy of his contract, and we stand on the same podiums at almost every Prix.” Liam’s words match his agitated glare.
I don’t blame him for being defensive because Peter seems like a total ass. My dad used to tell me how Peter yells at his racers after press conferences, and how he treats the pit crew like shit despite their help. His poor reputation precedes him.
“The thing you don’t get is that Noah Slade has won more titles than you, not to mention he doesn’t fuck around with James Mitchell’s family. His performance makes him a Champion and you a runner-up.” Peter sneers at Liam.
