Page 19 of Away We Go

Paul

Meeting in the conference room in five minutes.

That my race engineer feels the need to remind me of our meeting—a meeting we’ve had at this time of every weekend of my career—shows just how off my game I’ve been over the last few weeks. Yes, I won the first race and had kicked off the season well, but that hasn’t translated to all the moments in between. Like in the post-race debrief, I’d found myself focusing on Patrick, on whether or not he’s conventionally handsome, while I should have been focusing on all the little things that went right and wrong during the race. Paul had to repeat a question three times before I actually answered, I was so far down the ‘Would Cherry go for him and how do I make sure this doesn’t happen?’ rabbit hole. My team has been side-eyeing me ever since, wondering for the first time if my head is fully in the game.

Since I joined the Formula 1 world, I’ve only ever been here to win, and now suddenly it is hard to stay focussed with Cherry in the garage. Always around. Making friends. Flirting.

“Don’t go there, man,” I groan out loud.

My phone vibrates in my hand again. Another message from Paul. I’m so distracted by my thoughts of being distracted, I haven’t messaged him back.

Nicky

On my way to you now.

I shove my phone into the pocket of my sweatpants and put on a cap. This hotel is swarming with members of the paddock, all F1 people who wouldn’t give me a second glance, but there’s always the risk of a fan lurking around a corner and I can’t be bothered dealing with that right now.

I’m too bothered by Little Miss Smells Like Coconut, out there.

Before leaving for my meeting, I take a minute to listen at my door. When silence greets me from the other side, I take a deep breath and open it. Half relieved, half disappointed by the empty room in front of me, I scamper out of the hotel suite, an embarrassed laugh escaping me at this version of me. If anyone who knew me could see me now, they’d be laughing their arses off. The Ice Man, the unflappable Nicolai Dimitrios, fleeing his hotel room to get away from the petite woman who has captured all of his attention without even trying.

• • • • •

Race Day.

A pulsating excitement hangs in the air, and I wonder if I’ll ever tire of this. This feeling, just before the main event. I’ve been doing this for so long and have becomeeither immune or disheartened to a lot of the world of Formula 1, but this? This I’ll never tire of.

The scent of coconut alerts me to her presence before I see her. It’s been days since I’ve caught more than just a glimpse of her ruby hair and I’ve been craving it—her—more than I want to admit.

“Hey, you.” I stop in front of her and breathe her in. Although we’ve shared a hotel suite this race weekend, we’ve been like ships in the night. It’s taken all the willpower I’m renowned for not to text her.

“Hey.” She beams up at me and my lips twitch in response. If you were to ask the media, my teammate, my team principal—heck, even my parents—they’d tell you I’m a grumpy sort who is stingy with my smiles. But with this woman, I find it impossible not to give them to her freely.

“I haven’t seen you all weekend.” This comes out like an accusation, like I thought she was hiding from me and her brow ruffles in response. I think fast to fix this. “Did you have fun with Serena?”

Her face lights up. “It was amazing!” She pulls up the camera from where it’s hanging in its customary position around her neck and shows me the photos that she’d taken of the Yu Garden. There are dozens of exquisite pictures of the teahouse and the crooked bridge and the surrounding bazaar. I pause on a picture of koi fish in a pond, marvelling at how expertly she captured the tranquillity of the place.

“These photos are incredible.” I peek up and find her staring at me. Her eyes have an unfocussed quality as she scans me up and down. It’s just before lights out and I’m wearing my fire engine redVortex Motorsrace suit undone and hanging down off my hips, my top half covered by my white fire-resistant long-sleeve top.

She swallows and looks away, a light blush coating her cheeks. I’d like to take this as her liking what she sees, but this is how sheis with everyone. I’d just seen her tittering at something Patrick had whispered in her ear. And I know she blushes at the drop of a hat. The way she’d just checked me out means nothing.

I’m almost convinced of this but then she lifts her camera and snaps a photo of me. As she grins down at the small screen in her hands, I swear I can see the moment her blush deepens.

Interesting.

“Thanks,” she replies to my compliment, pride shining from the depths of her crystal blue eyes. It’s like she’s been on a praise drought and I’m offering her a bucket of water.

“I love it here and can’t wait to come back,” she continues before I can probe any deeper.

I file this away to explore at a later date. There have been a few too many times since we’ve reconnected that I’ve felt she was bracing herself for criticism. My blood boils, thinking of all the reasons this may be the case.

“Maybe next year we’ll have more time to explore,” I suggest, my mouth taking control of my brain.What am I thinking, talking about next time?Next year.I’m struggling to get through next week with this woman around; I shouldn’t be committing to another season with her next to me. Tempting me.

“I’d love that.” Her grin is so wide her eyes have turned into slits and all my self-recrimination disappears. Looks like I’ll offer her anything to get her smiling at me like that.

“Hey, Nicky?” Jack, the team principal forVortex Motors,calls my name from somewhere behind me.

I curse silently at the interruption. Another sign my head is not where it’s supposed to be. It’s not in race-day mode, that’s for sure.

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