Page 30 of I See Red

Rolling down my window, he follows suit. I unbuckle my seat belt, pulling my knees into the seat.

“What are you doing?” he exclaims, reaching for me.

“You just hold that wheel steady, Mr. Bergess,” I taunt, pushing his hand from me as I begin to climb out the window, my body steadied by the door at my waist. Lifting my arms out into the air, my upper half completely bashed by the airstream as the car automatically shifts into seventh, throttle wide open, as we begin passing Antonio. Rolling down his window, he shouts at me, “You’re fucking crazy, Red.”

“And you’re about to lose,” I scream at the top of my lungs, throwing him two birds and a grin as we pass him completely, taking the lead.

“Fuck that was exhilarating,” I breathily gasp, catching my breath as I secure myself back in the seat, brushing my wind-blown hair from my face.

“He’s not wrong, little flame. You’re about as crazy as they come.”

“I know, and you fucking burn for it, Mr. Bergess. At least I own it.”

He continues bobbing and weaving before letting off the gas, allowing this beauty to slow as we exit off SH-130, the track lights in range. This car is so fucking sexy, too bad it’s an automatic. My panties would have been completely drenched if it was a standard. Fuck me, I could watch him shift all day. One of my favorite things is when he sends me videos of him shifting gears while he’s driving; just his long fingers, the veins so powerful as they strain, the leather so beautifully touched. Gear kink is such an underrated one.That shits better than porn.

“Let me guess, Team Ferrari?” I tease, knowing damn well his team hasn’t changed in his entire life.

“Every day, little flame. What can I say? I like the color red.” He shrugs his shoulders, sliding his hand across my lap squeezing tightly.

“Let me guess your second love, Mr. Hamilton, Mercedes?” he taunts me.

“What can I say? I love blue and the chill it brings,” I bite, feeding into his flirtation.

“I’d love nothing more than to freeze your flame.” He grins, throwing the car in park. His cold knuckles running up and down the side of my face, pulling me into him. His breath, warm as the Texas sun dancing across my lips. I glide my tongue to get a taste but fall short as he hesitates, pulling back, leaving me completely unfulfilled.

“Not yet, little flame. I hate starting what I can’t finish. We’re here,” Turning my chin, he places The Circuit of the Americas track in my view. I can’t help but look around and take it all in. A pit takes hold in my stomach as I think back to all the times we spoke about having this moment together but never had the ability in our schedules to quite grasp it. Suddenly, being here, looking out, and knowing it is happening, makes me nervousand uncertain. Attempting to calm this odd feeling I rarely experience, I follow his gaze out the window, those thoughts making this moment all the more surreal and special. The tower stands tall in the sky, the lights beating down on it from all directions. The smell of octane and burnt rubber fills the air. The track is covered in red, white, and blue, consisting of twenty insane turns. I glance between him and it, imagining all the ways I’d like him to abuse my body on each of them. If only a why choose was real life, I’d have Tayden and Lewis at the same time. Fuck would that be euphoric. The outlandish thought forces a chuckle to escape my lips, my hand covering them in an attempt to quiet my laughter. I peer my head out the window, my hands in the air like a kid riding their first rollercoaster, just taking it all in as Antonio pulls up next to us.

“How’s it feel to get that ass spanked, A?”

“Fucking amazing. I almost had you there for a minute, though.”

“Almost means shit, my friend,” Tayden jokes back.

“Alright, boys, put your dicks back in your pants. You have all weekend to compare them.”

Tonight feels good. I feel so fucking free; at least I know I’m still me. For now, anyway.

“I’ve never had the opportunity to love her freely for the world to see, but that doesn’t mean I can’t fuck her in front of it.”

—Tayden

I’ve loved Formula One since I was a kid. It’s the exact reason I got into exotic cars. Something about two hands gripping the wheel, the throttle wide open, and nothing but her and I has always been sacred to me, like my own church every time I step in. I have the ability to love a car better than I have loved any woman in my life. I understand the ins and outs of them far more than the female brain. Cars don’t change. They are who they are. Sure, they can be modified, but she still works the same regardless of how many changes or aftermarket parts you add to her. The pedal is the accelerator, and the brake still performs the same task. Without each part working properly and fine-tuned, she won’t purr as she should. The voice of a car always tells you what’s going on. The voice of a woman can lead you down a twisted and chaotic path. Cars leave you a roadmap to the issue, a constant trail that inevitably will lead you to pinpoint the problem. Women in my life have never been that easy. You think you’ve found the root of the problem and stumble into nine more you weren’t even aware existed in the first place. There’s no owner’s manual for women. They are all their own makes and models with multitudes of aftermarket accessories by different manufacturers with zero fucking warranty. That is my all-bearing issue with Ivy and Red.FuckI love them both. I loved Ivy first, but I’ll never forget the day Red and I met. She was strong, fearless, uncomplicated, and relentless. At that moment, I knew I may never have a place in either of their lives but fuck,I craved Red so fearlessly. The guilt it made me feel falling for her is something I still carry to this day. As a man who has loved both for so many years, I couldn’t even begin to write a manual to either of them. They are different, same make for certain, but their models sit at completely different ends of the spectrum. I know I shouldn’t be here with Red this weekend, but fuck me, my ability to curb my desire is hard. Ivy can’t always be the only rule maker and breaker. This weekend, I plan to break them all. I will have Red in all the ways Ivy would deny me. I wish I could go back in time and change so much for Ivy, but I still believe, what I always have. Red is not her enemy; no, her best friend is what scares her more than anything. They are both everything the other is not, and somehow, that friendship works for them. I know I’ve been the cause of many downfalls in their friendship over the years, but they’ve always found a way to work it out, allowing me to continue pursuing both. The understanding between them all these years has taken its toll on my role in their life in both good and bad ways, but their complications could never alter my love for them. I know taking Red away for the weekend, I guarantee, will hinder that bond and, if I had to guess, cause a lot of friction between the two. Just as I am certain the weekend I took Ivy away is the reason Red is here with me right now. Realistically, we have all been in this together longer than should have been allowed to be played out, but as long as we are all still moving pieces across the board, I refuse to feel guilty for my move, at least not this weekend. I do worry at some point, a decision or a choice will be requested by one or the other, and at that time, I know for certain it would not be me needing to make that final call but the two of them. Luckily for us all, we made the agreement long ago that anyone choosing each other outside our fictional world is not a question ever to be asked aloud among us. So, for now, I feel confident in my actionsper that rule, and I choose to live recklessly for the women I love indefinitely, even if that makes me the enemy.

“Cat got your tongue?” she gushes.

“No love, just thinking,” I breathily reply, my eyes visiting hers momentarily before staring back out the window, separating the loudness of the warmups from the stillness we sit in.

Her hand latches onto the back of my neck, massaging it, trying to relieve the tension she senses in my body language through my silence.

“You know, thinking too hard has never done anyone any good. Especially for us.”

“I know, love. I promise all good thoughts,” I reply, hoping to give her the comfort she needs to feel reassured my mind is only on her. I know she has felt some type of way this weekend as we haven’t physically connected since we arrived Friday on the plane, other than a few heavy make-out sessions. For a woman like her, I know it makes her feel insignificant. I wanted some time with her non-sexually. To enjoy the experiences with her that time took from us. To know what her belly laughs sound like, to breathe in her just existing in the moment. Watching the genuine curl of her lips as her team takes first in the heat laps was priceless. We spent the weekend making memories that we spent years talking into existence, never allowed to create them by our own hands. Watching her true personality penetrate through the cast iron armor she wears endlessly has been the highlight of my weekend. For once, I feel I’ve grown even closer to her than I’ve ever felt. Her energy this weekend has been less business, zero guard, and all the parts of her she thinks she doesn’t deserve—genuine happiness. I wish she knew how loveable she truly is.

“Aghhhhh, take that, Mercedes starts in spot one, and Ferrari, where are they? Go ahead, tell me,” she busts from her chest, excitement taking over her.

“Fifth, love, but remember it doesn’t matter until that checkered flag waves high in the sky,” I tease her. Hearing her passion for the races this weekend has been eye-opening. She has never been one to care about Formula One, but a few years back, she started texting me about it, and it was then I realized that although we barely spoke at the time, she learned it for me. She fell in love with it because of her love for me. I’ve never brought it up or even asked her to admit it because she’ll never confess. I find it so fucking adorable how she’s always finding more ways for us to relate, and more than anything, we could love something together outside of ourselves; her team choice certainly was nothing more than to create banter between us, and fuck I love her even more for choosing another team. Another calculated move aced by her. She’s truly remarkable. She was made for me.

“Alright, big guy, you a betting man?” Playfully rolls off her tongue.

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