Page 29 of Reserved
It’s amazing.
My cheeks burn from all the smiling, and my heart is perfectly settled in my chest as we talk, something it hardly ever does. I never feel settled enough around new people for my anxiety to leave me alone, but right now, I do.
There is something special about Adrian, the way he consumes the entire space around us until he’s all I see and feel.
“How could you have been on Iron Man’s side? Captain America wastrying to save his best friend,” I argue, and Adrian snorts at my comment.
“Yeah, but he should have told Tony what Bucky did! Honestly, woman, how did you watch the reveal scene without feeling the same anger Iron Man did?” he asks, but I shake my head repeatedly. “Tell me you at least cried when he died during Endgame,” Adrian adds with a shocked laugh.
“Well…” I trail off, making the Monegasque gasp dramatically. “Did you?”
“Of course. I was bawling my eyes out,” Adrian replies and I burst into laughter, earning myself the sweetest smile from him.
“Alright, maybe we should switch topics. Next thing I know, you’re going to tell me you hate Doctor Strange, and I don’t play when it comes to my favorite superhero,” I say, but Adrian’s face lights up at my words.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about there. He’s my favorite, too,” Adrian says with a chuckle, picking up a fry and popping it into his mouth. He chews while I take a bite out of my burger, smiling happily to myself.
“What made you pick up a racket all those years ago?” he asks, for the first time tonight making a sense of sadness creep into my chest, but the curiosity in his gaze brings back how passionate I was after the first time I tried playing tennis.
“My dad enrolled me in a tennis camp for an entire summer when I was six years old. My coach was amazing. She was so patient and kind, encouraging me the entire time. I got a lot of balls over the net, more than anyone else I was playing with at the time, and it motivated me to get better and better. I like being an overachiever,” I admit with a soft laugh. Adrian watches me the entire time I speak, his undivided attention on me.
“I can tell, you know, considering you are probably one of the youngest employees atGriffin Sports. That’s a hell of an achievement,” he says, running a hand over his other arm.
My attention drifts to the way his muscles flex at the motion, and I don’t miss the way a cocky smirk curls the left corner of his mouth when he catches me admiring him. A blush creeps onto my cheeks, but I don’t look away just because he caught me. I let my gaze trail over his muscular chest, over his trained, veiny forearms.
“What made you decide to follow in your grandfather’s and father’s footsteps and become a Formula One driver?” I ask, grabbing a few fries and taking a bite out of all of them at once.
Adrian’s expression turns thoughtful as he looks at the fireplace next to us where we’re sitting on the ground at my house.
“I wanted to be just like my dad when I was growing up. I watched him win races, chase the high of the sport, and be happier than ever when he stepped out of his F1 car. That feeling, that happiness, I wanted it, too,” he admits, but the shame is evident in his eyes.
“I feel like there’s a but,” I say, so Adrian smiles a little in response.
“But, as I got older, I realized I wanted to be nothing like him. He wasn’t a good father. After our mother left, he got even worse. He couldn’t look at Val and me without seeing her in our faces, so most days, he just dropped us off at our grandparents’ house. That’s where I learned what Formula One was truly about. My grandfather, one of the best drivers in the history of this sport, taught me everything there was to know about F1. Discipline, sacrifice, dedication. You name it, he taught me the meaning of it.”
His gaze shifts back to me, emotion sparkling in his eyes.
“But I didn’t want to be anything like my grandfather either. I loved him, but I never aspired to be like him because I always wanted to be like Val.” He shrugs with a shy smile. “She was everything I always wanted to be, so I have no idea how, to this day, she thinks I raised her more than she did me,” Adrian admits with a small laugh, picking up his water and taking a big sip.
“If Valentina Romana was my sister, I’d want to be just like her, too, so I get it,” I reply, chuckling a little when he grins at me. “You two are really close,” I point out, and Adrian plays with the wrapping paper his burger was in half an hour ago.
“Val’s all I have left in the world. My grandparents and dad passed away.”
“I’m so sorry, Adrian,” I say softly and reach out to take his hand.
It surprises me that he meets me halfway. If it was Lincoln, he wouldn’t have let me touch him while he’s vulnerable. I’m convinced most wouldn’t, but Adrian isn’t most.
His fingers intertwine with mine as he clearly forces a smile.
“It’s okay. I loved my grandfather a lot, but Val and he had a special bond. He trained me, but I always felt like his focus was more on her than me. It didn’t matter to him if I took my training as seriously as Val. My grandmother and I, on the other hand, were really close. I spent most of my time in her kitchen where we spoke about everything and nothing,” Adrian says with an upset frown on his face. “Sorry, I never talk about this, I don’t know why I’m oversharing,” he adds, but I squeeze his hand to reassure him.
“Don’t apologize. I enjoy talking to you, happy and sad alike, and you arenotoversharing,” I promise, and his thumb starts tracing an infinity shape along the back of my hand. “You can tell me more, if you want,” I offer, and he sucks in a sharp breath.
“There isn’t a lot more to tell. As I said, my father prioritized his job over Val and me. One night, he crashed his car into the middle of our living room. I told Val to stay upstairs while I ran to check his pulse and call an ambulance at the same time. It was useless. He was long gone when they arrived.” My heart drops. I wasn’t expecting him to be this honest with me. “What’s with the surprised expression?” he asks and places his index finger under my chin to tilt my head toward him.
“You’re being vulnerable with me, and I didn’t think you would be,” I explain and close my eyes when his thumb runs over my bottom lip. “I hate my job,” I whisper, and Adrian lets out a low, short laugh.
“Because you want to kiss me or for other reasons, too?” he asks, his finger still tracing my lips. Tingles spread from my face all the way down to my toes.
