Page 35 of Racing Hearts
Before I could spiral further into my own head, a loud voice boomed through the space.
“Who is ready to get their ass kicked?” Edward pulled me into a hug, my neck in a chokehold as he ruffled my hair. Behind him stood Lily and Henri, the two of them shaking their heads at his antics.
“Wha-what are you doing here?” After the exhausting morning, relief surged as Edward stood in front of me, grinning away like a buffoon. His dimpled smile was a welcome sight, even if it came with my teammate.
“Thought I’d come kick your ass on the karting track before doing it in Monza,” Edward laughed. “Dragged these two along so they can watch me dominate!” He nodded his head over to Lily and Henri, who were still standing there with amused looks.
Of course, they’re here to race.And just like that, the relief was gone.
“I’m always down for any chance I can get to show you boys how to win,” Lily chuckled.
“Right.” Georgia clapped her hands, motioning to the four of us. “The track is ready for a littlefriendlycompetition.” She stuck her tongue out at Edward, who returned the favor.
“Friendly my ass,” I muttered. As if five professional Formula 1 drivers could have a non-competitive race on a track.
“Aww, come on, Luca, scared of a little competition?” Edward laughed, and I felt myself relax slightly at his beaming face. It was hard to be upset in his presence, and part of me suspected Georgia knew that when she’d invited him.
“Fine. If you all want to get in some practice losing before you do it again this weekend, then don’t let me stop you.”
Georgia stepped forward. “To make things more interesting, I was thinking we’d select the starting order the old-fashioned way: rock, paper, scissors.”
Did the paddock’s most serious and competitive driver just suggest we substitute a qualifying session for a silly game notoriously known for its randomness?
“You’re serious?”
“We don’t joke about rock, paper, scissors, Rossi,” she said solemnly, although she couldn’t stop a grin from crossing her lips.
One by one, hands flew, but the final round came down to me and Georgia.
“Alright, Rossi, on three.” We both raised our fists.
“One, two, three!” Our hands shot out simultaneously, Georgia with paper and me with rock. She let out a triumphant cheer, pumping her fist in the air.
“Don’t get used to it, Dubois!” I yelled after her. “That’ll be the only winning you’ll be doing today.” She waved me off before heading to her kart.
After another quick water break, and some strategic photos of the five of us friends chatting, Antonio ushered me over to the lane entrance.
“Good luck, Luca!” He handed me a small, carefully wrapped gift, his face beaming. I peeled back the layers of gold tissue paper, and my chest tightened. Inside was a black-and-white photo of a little boy, holding a trophy much too big for him, standing next to his father. The smile on Antonio’s face was blinding. “It’s you and your dad, over two decades ago. I remember that day. You’d won the race by pulling off some daring pass, and afterward, your father told me he knew you’d be a Formula 1 driver, just like himself.”
“Wow. I can’t believe you still have this,” I whispered.
That particular race win had been incredibly special. Holding that trophy as a young boy, I wanted nothing more than to be a Formula 1 driver like my father.
He clapped his hands on my shoulder. “Now go teach those Monégasque drivers a lesson, hmm?”
“Sì.” I nodded, slipping the photo into my racing suit where it rested close to my heart.
I made my way to the starting line, getting into the second-place starting position.
“Alright, first one around the course twenty times is the winner!” Antonio called out as I settled into my P2 spot, flickering my eyes to Georgia, whose car was just slightly ahead of mine. When the final light turned green, I pushed the pedal to the floor and shot forward, launching off the second-place line. The track’s curves, once familiar, now felt like home again.
Twist. Brake. Accelerate. Slide.
Georgia was right. Racing here on the winding track, it was justfun.
After the tenth lap, I could hear Henri’s engine roaring behind me. Ignoring him, I continued to focus on Georgia as my kart crept closer to hers on each lap, chasing her down like a cat taunting its prey. By lap fifteen, I was practically on top of her, but I let my kart simply rest beside hers, knowing that with each lap, Georgia would be second-guessing her moves, wondering why I hadn’t passed her.
As soon as I slid into the penultimate lap, I knew it was my time to shine, my time to remind them all that I was still a force to be reckoned with.
