Page 24 of Away We Go

I’m in foodie heaven.

“Cherry.”

Ah, it’s the only thing missing from my time here in Japan so far: Nicky. Although we’ve been texting each other—delightful texts that I have absolutelynot been reading and re-reading hourly—I’ve yet to have a quality conversation with him since the Shanghai race.

I’d travelled from China to Tokyo with theVortex Motorsteam. Taking the same flight as Serena made the journey a lot easier, as she wouldn’t stop talking long enough for me to focus on my fear of flying. And I’d also tried some of the tips in the article Nicky sent me. Using the 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 technique had really helped during the periods of turbulence we faced; focusing on what I can see, touch,hear, smell and taste calmed me in a way I’d never experienced before. And I have Nicky to thank for that.

Once we arrived at Haneda Airport, there was no need for James to fetch me. Instead, I’d happily hopped onboard the team bus and spent the five-hour drive to the team hotel on the outskirts of Suzuka watching movies and playing card games. It kinda felt like a school trip to camp. And after we arrived and checked in—I had my own room this time and tried not to feel disappointed about it—Serena and I had a day to ourselves to explore.

It sometimes feels like I’m getting paid to be a part-time photographer and part-time tourist, and I’m not complaining about any of it.

“Hi.” I take a moment to drink Nicky in, having not seen him up close and personal in forever. Or a handful of days. You know. Potato/Potahto.

It’s the Thursday of race weekend, which is the easiest day of them all. It’s when the drivers do a walk-around of the circuit with the team principal or their race engineer, followed by a few fan appearances. I’d gotten here extra early this morning to capture some photos of the track in this post-dawn light and am a little thrown to find Nicky lounging in the hospitality suite, like he’s got no better place to be.

He stands up and my eyes wander over him. This morning he’s in his casual clothes, light denim jeans and an over-sized red, blue and white hoodie, but that will have to change later today when he greets the fans. Then he’ll have to wear some sort of casual team uniform, but for now he looks like he’s just stepped off a runway. A Tommy Hilfiger runway, to be specific.

“You look nice,” I blurt out before my brain can catch up with my mouth.

I flush from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes as he smirks at me, and I wonder if he’s picturing me looking at that photo of him in thePeoplemagazine article. The photo where he’d been naked from the waist up, glistening with sweat, his muscles just about popping off the page. I can’t believe I’d texted him that I’d memorised the photo; it feels a lot easier to banter with him over text message. You know, without those brown eyes peering into my soul.

“So do you.” His softly spoken compliment jolts me to the present and, as I look at him, I swear I detect a slight reddening of his cheeks as well.

Hecanblush.

“Uh, um.” Feeling flustered now, I glance down at my outfit and frown. I’m wearing a white t-shirt tucked in a black skirt with ruffles that ends above my knees, white sneakers and an oversized blackVortex Motorsjacket with Nicky’s name and number on the back.

Compared to the supermodel standing in front of me, I’m a slob. Troy always complained about the way I dressed, saying I should pay more attention to what’s in fashion. To what other women are wearing.

“What are you doing here so early?” Nicky says, changing the subject.

I wave at the large window beside us. “This light. I couldn’t pass up the chance to get some shots while it looks like this.”

The morning sun in Suzuka has burnt off the fog from the night before, leaving in its wake a pinkish hue coating the pale blue sky. With the racetrack silhouetted by charcoal mountains in the distance, surrounded by blooming cherry blossom trees and almost dwarfed by the whimsical giant Ferris wheel nearby, my camera-fingers itch to get out there and capture it all.

“Here.” I turn from the view outside to an even better one inside. Nicky smiling at me, holding out a coffee cup.

A girl could get used to this.

“Thanks.” I sip from the cup, savouring the coffee, made just how I like it. This must be part of the magic of Nicolai Dimitrios. Things like the perfect coffee just appear in front of him.

“Do you want to go for a ride?”

Again, an innocent question from those lips in that voice has my knees knocking. So loudly, I fear he may hear them.

“A ride?”

His head tilts, gazing at me like he’s trying to read my thoughts. I clear my mind in a hurry; there’s no way I want him knowingthesethoughts.

“Around the track?”

“No-no thanks,” I stammer. Even just the thought of getting in an F1 car leaves me feeling pukey. If I can’t handle an aeroplane, there’s no way I’m getting in one of those rocket ships on four wheels.

He takes my hand and pulls me to the door. I ignore the tingles radiating from my palm to my brain and dig my heels in, refusing to go anywhere.

“Cherry.” He turns and looks at me, his eyes crinkling around the edges. “Do you think I’d ever put you in harm's way?”

“No.” I shake my head. “But…”

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