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“Better now, thanks,” I reply, taking one last deep breath to gather all the strength I have to stand up.
“You want to tell me what happened?” I check my watch. Five minutes since I came into the bathroom.
“Later. I have to get back to work,” I say before telling her I love her and hanging up.
My makeup, luckily, isn’t too messed up, and after a few careful swipes under my eyes with a tissue, I get back to my desk on wobbly legs. My head pounds in complaint at the immediate getting back to work without letting it catch up, but I can’t waste any time. I have to get this article back to Gillian before lunch. So, I pop a painkiller into my mouth, hoping it’ll ease my stupid post-anxiety-attack headache.
“Nevaeh, I need you to look over these and sign at the bottom to make sure you acknowledge all of the rules and guidelines,” Gillian says, handing me a pile of paper.
My eyes scan over the words carefully. There is a lot about how to behave and what to say and not to say around the Formula One members. But the thing that has my breath catching once again is the rule at the very bottom.
No member of this team may date a Formula One driver. This is to avoid accusations of extreme bias and complications during interactions.
Fuck. Me.
“Gillian? What would happen to someone who breaks any of these rules?” I ask, my mouth dry.
I’m in deep shit.
Not only did I have a Formula One driver’s lips on mine a few days ago, but another one is taking me out tonight. Well, he was supposed to, but now, everything has changed. I can’t go out with him.
“Whoever breaks it, gets fired. Easy as that,” Gillian states before strolling back into his office and leaving me to panic by myself.Again.
The articles in my hand are no longer captivating as my thoughts get consumed by what I have to do later. My career means everything to me, which is why I won’t let a man get in the way of it. There is no hesitation in my mind about it.
Nevaeh: Hi. I really want to go out with you, but I just found out that my job forbids it. I’m so sorry you stayed another day for something that isn’t allowed to happen.
I sent this message during my lunch break, and, so far, I haven’t gotten an answer. If I were him, I’d be pissed, but something tells me that’s not who he is. He strikes me as an easy-going and fun person, someone who doesn’t get angry often. At least, I hope so. If he’s upset with me because I blew him off, it’s going to make this season very difficult.
At the end of the day, I’m miserable. My head is still pounding. My anxiety is a living and breathing thing at the surface of my chest. Not to mention, Lincoln has also texted me a couple of times, asking if everything’s alright, but I’m not in the mood to talk to him. He deserves an explanation, but I have none to give him. All I want is to fall into bed, take a nap, and then do some self-care for my mental health.
This job doesn’t make me happy, at least not yet, and it’s placing doubts in my mind. I shouldn’t have taken this job… should I have? I need to speak to someone about this, but Nova and Aileen are busy tonight, and Mama and Papa will tell me to get over it, that it’ll get better eventually. They might use a euphemism, but the words will mean the same, and they won’t help.
I walk out of the building, half-expecting Lincoln to wait for me. Instead, I notice a red Velocitá Rossa SUV in the pick-up area. It’s pitch-black outside, but the lights from the buildings allow me to see Adrian leaning against it with a bag of Haribo gummy bears in his hand. How he knows that those are my favorites, I have no clue.
But I’m going to find out.
His smile is contagious as he pushes himself off his car to take a step toward me.
“Before you ask, yes, I got your message. Yes, I am here to pick you up anyway. No, it won’t be a date, but yes, I bribed your sister to drive your car home and tell me what your favorite sweets are,” he explains, his green-blue-brown eyes darker in this light and studying my expression to identify how I feel about all of this.
I put my hands behind my back and intertwine my fingers, teasing him by staying quiet. Adrian lets out a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair as he waits for my response.
“Aren’t you supposed to bring flowers?” I ask with a teasing tone as he hands me the gummy bears.
“If this were a date, I would have brought you both,” he says before stepping to the side and opening the driver’s door for me. “I brought my car for you to drive,” Adrian says, causing my jaw to drop and my eyes to widen.
“Are you out of your mind? This car is worth more than my life, Icannotdrive it,” I reply and take a step back.
“You don’t have to, Nevaeh, I merely thought you’d want to, considering you adore it,” Adrian offers with a smile, and, for the first time since I met him three months ago, he lets a faint Monegasque accent slip through his usual American one.
It’s extremely attractive.
“I like the way you say my name,” I admit, and Adrian’s face turns mischievous.
“You can’t tell me things like that. It makes me want to kiss you.” His words have a strange way of making my heart race, skip beats, or thump unevenly against my ribcage. Maybe all three of those things combined.
There is no doubt in my mind that if I ever let this man kiss me, it would undo me in ways I’d never be able to put myself together again. So, I simply clear my throat and step toward the car. The grin returns to his face while he closes my door and makes his way to the passenger’s side.
