Page 75 of Throttled (Dirty Air 1)

“Right. Hopefully this one will go better.” I can win the Japanese Grand Prix since I’ve done it in the past.

“And here we are getting ready for the next practice session. Santiago, do you have anything to say to your fans?”

For fuck’s sake, Maya has the worst timing.

My dad ogles her as she spins around in the garage. Gross. She keeps going, asking Santiago questions.

My dad focuses back on me. “She’s a news reporter now? What’s she doing in the pit area? It’s no place for a woman.” He still lives in an era where women get married and live the rest of their sad lives in the four walls of their home. Times have changed, Pops.

“Nope. Santiago’s sister vlogs.” My girlfriend, I wish to say.

Maya and I haven’t talked about titles yet. We only hashed things out two weeks ago in Singapore. But everything about us feels title-worthy because we spend lots of time together whenever Santiago isn’t around. In my bed, in hers, in one of the private suites, and secret dates in the cities we visit. My sex drive with Maya rivals that of an eighteen-year-old.

I don’t like how my dad looks at her, pissing me off even more.

“Hmm. She shouldn’t be filming.” His growl of a voice does nothing to intimidate me.

“They already gave her the go-ahead for it. It’s been good publicity and nice for branding since she has a lot of

followers.” Shit. Did my voice sound like I am proud of her?

My dad assesses me, giving me the fucking chills. His perceptiveness makes him cruel because he didn’t get where he is today by being stupid.

“I guess it’s fine,” he says.

Everything about his face screams how it isn’t. His eyebrows raise, he rubs his chin, his eyes have an evil spark. A montage of every villain from every movie.

“I better get ready for another practice round. I’ll see you later?” I don’t want to leave him alone here with Maya, but I have to.

I sneak up next to her before hopping into my car.

“Stay away from my dad. He’s a sneaky piece of shit.”

Her eyes widen. “Good luck out there!” She gets my message, her retreating form comforting me as I get in the cockpit of my car.

Maya’s hand strokes my chest. We decided to stay in tonight and not attend any sponsor events. No loss here. She texts Santi about not feeling well while I tell the guys I have a headache.

“I don’t think it’s going to end well. I always thought he was a bad guy…but he’s not. And now they killed him.”

By him, she’s referring to Bob on Stranger Things. Her tears dampen my shirt.

Wow, she really gets into shows.

“Do you always cry during sad scenes?” I pull her into a hug. It’s cute, endearing even. But I don’t want her to cry over something not real.

“I have a lot of feelings. Okay?” Her eyes glisten as she looks up at me. I give her a soft kiss on her forehead, her sigh making me smirk.

And the action continues on the TV. Maya snaps her head back, eagerly watching the next part.

I have learned my lesson. When they say, “Netflix and Chill,” they mean to pick the most boring show because any other choice means no sex, no hooking up.

I fall into the Stranger Things trap. Maya swats my hand away whenever I put a move on her.

“You need to stop sighing every time Steve is on the screen. This crush has gotten out of hand.”

My heart surges at the sound of her laugh. A weird feeling I’ve grown accustomed to whenever I hang around Maya, similar to how my dick gets rock-hard whenever she gets near me.

“I can’t help it. That hair, his babysitting skills. Even his personality. Sigh.”