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SEVENTEEN

Ella

I’M grateful that Blake prefers to spend time in his suite alone before each Grand Prix. After spending most of the day signing hats and shirts, taking photos with fans, and answering questions from the media, all he wants is peace and quiet to get into the zone. Sometimes he watches tapes of previous races at the circuit to prep and sometimes he listens to music. He’ll even go crazy and watch a documentary from time to time. I don’t care what he’s doing before the Azerbaijan Grand Prix, as long as it’s away from me and my idiotic lust for his lips.

Nowhere in my contract does it specifically state “don’t make out with the subject of your work,” but I think it’s implied. Now I know why. Every time I see Blake, my stomach flutters at the memory of his lips pressed against mine. He hasn’t brought up what happened between us and I sure as hell am not reminding him about my momentary lapse in judgment. Especially when I’m the one who drew that line.

I usually hang out with Josie before the race, but today I spend some time with Theo. He has more than his fair share of stories about his early karting days with Blake. I interview Theo for an hour or so before he convinces me to play Mario Kart. Video games are his pre-race ritual. Little does he know I grew up playing with my brother and Princess Peach is absolutely going to kick Bowser’s butt.

Theo frowns after I win the first game. “You low-key don’t suck at this, Goldy.”

“What a lovely, backhanded compliment, Walker.”

Theo snorts and nudges me with his elbow. He may be a World Champion in Formula 1, but I’m the virtual karting champion.

“Question,” he says, putting down his controller. “What’s the deal with you and Connor Brixton?”

I almost jump out of my skin at the question. “What?” I demand. “Why? Who wants to know?”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Goldy. Blake just asked me and Lucas if we knew anything about him.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Lucas said he’d met him once at some party in New York. Blake got all moody and … well, you know how he can get.”

I should’ve kept my mouth shut. The last thing I need is Blake getting involved in anything Connor-related. “What’s that have to do with me?”

“Lucas said Blake should ask you about him since he produced your show,” he answers, narrowing his eyes at me as if I’m an idiot for not putting two and two together. “I thought Blake was going to knock him out for suggesting it.”

I bite my lip to stop my mouth from hanging open. “Uh, I’m not on the best terms with him anymore.”

I’m leaving it at that. I don’t need Theo, or anyone else, knowing about the situation. There isn’t even a situation. It’s over and done with.

“Ah.” He doesn’t press me any further. “Well, don’t mention I said anything. Don’t want him getting all pissy at me, you know?”

I reassure him that I won’t, the nervous knots in my stomach slowly unraveling. I’m eager to start another game so I can focus my mind on something else. Theo’s happy to oblige.

“Blake’s going to burst in here soon,” he tells me a few minutes later. “Just so you know.”

“Doubtful.” I pick up speed and pass him up on the virtual circuit. “He likes his quiet time.”

“Unless someone else is encroaching on his territory. Us playing video games?” He dramatically places the back of his hand against his forehead. “Betrayal.”

“I’m not Blake’s territory.” He’s too concentrated on the game to see me roll my eyes. “Grow up.”

“You’re his writer,” Theo points out. “Want to make a bet?”

My cheeks heat at the memory of the last bet I made.

“Sure.” I sigh. It’s easier to say yes to Theo than spend twenty minutes arguing with him. “Let’s make a bet.”

I cross the finish line and Princess Peach prances across the screen for the second time in a row.

“If Blake comes in here in the next ten minutes … ” He taps on his chin in thought. Theo’s classically handsome, but being around him doesn’t make my stomach flip like flapjacks. Only Blake’s presence does that. “You have to tell Blake that I told you about us Eiffel-towering some bird in France.”

“Um, ew.” He can’t be serious. I thought he was going to say I have to buy him dinner or wear his number to the race.

“And if he doesn’t,” Theo continues after seeing my apprehension, “then I’ll let you read my DMs on Instagram.”

Oh, damn. He’s got me there. While Blake’s Instagram is run almost entirely by his team, Theo is a loose cannon. He live-streamed himself doing nothing for eight hours straight the other day. The things he comments on Instagram model’s bikini pics … so dirty even I blush reading them. Josie and I asked what it would take to read his DMs—they’ve got to be full-blown sexts—and apparently, I just found out.

We shake on it and no fewer than five minutes later, Blake waltzes into the room without knocking. He looks extremely hot in his red racing suit, and it makes me feel very bothered. “Whatcha guys doing?”

Theo smiles at me with obvious enjoyment. Fuck . I’m sure the only reason Blake came in is because he could hear us through the thin walls and didn’t like that we were ruining his peace and quiet.

“I was here to interview Theo,” I say. “But we got side-tracked by our dear friend Mario.”

“We got some interviewing done.” Theo gives me an exaggerated pout. “Don’t throw me completely under the bus.”

“True. Theo did tell me about that threesome you guys had in France. Kind of cliché to Eiffel-tower someone in Paris, no?”

I’m a woman of my word, even if I’m cringing on the inside. I look at Blake to gauge his reaction. He stares back with blank confusion before shaking his head slightly.

“Wasn’t me,” he says slowly. “Pretty sure I’d remember that.”

Relief flows through me like lava. The idea of him and Theo doing that … no, thank you. The culprit can’t keep it together and breaks into a fit of hysterics.

“Oi, I can’t believe you followed through, Goldy,” he wheezes. “Good stuff, mate.”

Blake narrows his eyes at us and crosses his arms over his chest. Uh-oh. Looks like we’re in trouble.

“Let’s head down to the pit garage for the race,” Blake says while Theo gets control of himself. “I’d like to kick your arse in a respectable manner.”

Theo leaps up from the couch and the two of them sprint out of the room to race each other to the garage. It’s like they’re twelve years old. I stay in Theo’s suite for a little longer to finish typing up my notes so I don’t forget anything. By the time I head down to the pit, everything is in full swing. Blake’s standing off to the side, watching the mechanics ready his car, but he’s still the center of attention. The energy in the room shifts to wherever he is.

Blake nods in greeting as I approach him, not taking his eyes off the car. Aromas of dust, sweat, and fuel cling to him, adding to his own sensual grime. I usually like a clean-cut man who smells like cologne, but for him I’ll happily make an exception.

“Teletubby all good?” I ask casually.

A smile flickers at the edges of his mouth. “You really think I named my car Teletubby?”

“Worth a shot. So, as I was asking, is Testicles all good?”

He lets out a laugh that mixes with the low buzz the tire warmers are emitting.

“Testicles is an interesting guess, but not even close.” He briefly glances at me. “My car’s doing great, though.”

We’re nearing race time and I can see the nervous energy building. Even though the drivers and cars are well equipped to drive in the rain—there’s a whole tire set for wet conditions—it’s not ideal because it makes the track trickier to anticipate. It’s been coming down for the past hour and the race has already been delayed once.

“You watching the race from the paddock or here?”

“If there is a race, I’ll be watching from here,” I say. “If I watch from the paddock, I’ll choke to death on the smell of expensive cologne.”

I’m rewarded with a knowing look. Blake may love racing, but he doesn’t love sucking up to sponsors. An engineer approaches us to let him know they’ve gotten the go-ahead to start the race. They really should just cancel it. This is fucking risky. There’s no way the visibility is good.

“Time for the world to scream your name,” I joke. “Your favorite part.”

“I’d rather it was you screaming my name, love, but this’ll do for now.”

He shoots me a sinful wink. I don’t have time to respond or wish him luck before he’s sauntering off to the pit lane.

Josie joins me right before the start of the race. We watch the drivers take their positions before peeling off as soon as the gantry lights go out. Blake starts the race behind Theo, who’s in pole position, but quickly makes it out front. Lucas’s launch is outstanding, and he easily catches up to his friends, with Harry not far behind him. The Everest, McAllister, and Alpha-Vite drivers are always at the front of the pack, trying to beat each other to the top podium positions.

It’s not until halfway through the race that things start to heat up toward the front. The cushion Blake built between himself and Harry is quickly dwindling as the Everest driver slowly but surely bites into Blake’s lead. The two of them drive tire to tire for an entire lap with Blake finally getting the upper hand. As the race continues, the rain starts coming down harder. There have already been two crashes between midfield drivers. I have no idea how any of them can see a thing.

It all happens so quickly I almost miss it. Harry loses control through an uphill sweep of one of the fastest corners, clipping Blake’s right rear wheel with his left front wheel. Blake’s car rapidly spins out before slamming into the barrier at a brutal angle. His car jerks back into the track and moments later, another driver slams into the rear of Blake’s car, adding insult to injury. Chunks of twisted metal lie in front of the crushed barricade. My knees buckle as the entire garage falls silent. No one moves a muscle. The only sounds you can hear through the entire circuit are panicked yells and gasps. The race is immediately red-flagged, the drivers out on the circuit notified to make their way back to the pit lane.

“Are you okay?” Andreas’s voice crackles through the radio. “Blake?”

Time moves in slow motion as we wait for him to respond. I feel utterly and completely helpless. We all do. We’re bystanders unable to do anything but hope Blake’s fine and that the safety car reaches him quickly. It’s an out-of-body experience—hearing panicked noises, seeing blurs of people running by, smelling fuel, feeling scared, but also not recognizing any of those sensations happening to me . I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until Josie wraps her arm around me and tells me there’s a reason the Halo safety device and other precautions are put in place to protect the drivers. Her eyes tell a completely different story than her lips and I can see she’s just as freaked out as I am. Blake’s been involved in his fair share of crashes, but this is by far one of the worst.

“Can you let us know if you’re okay?” Andreas tries again. “The safety car is on its way.”

Ten more excruciating seconds of silence.

“Blake? Let us know if you can hear us. Are there any injuries?”

Another few seconds go by before we hear Blake’s voice crackling through the system. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. What a bloody fucking mess. I’m sorry.”

Only Blake would apologize for a crash that’s not his fault. His team means the world to him and they’re going to have to put in a lot of work to get his car back in shape for the next race. The relief that floods my body is so overwhelming I sit down on the pit garage floor. I don’t give a shit if my jeans get covered in fuel, grease, dirt, grime. Blake’s okay. He’s okay. Thank God.

I’ve never hated a sport more than I do in this moment.