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Thomas starts giving instructions to Aaron. “Watch out, Wolf. Louis is going to be in a hurry to get past you.”
Just a second later the commentator screams that Harmil is coming straight for LeBeau’s car on turn three, and my heart has never raced this fast. Aaron maintains his lead, not letting Louis get past him.Come on.
“One-second margin. Push in the last corner. Secure.”
Thirty-five laps later, and I’m still feeling anxious. Aaron is taking risks on the track under the instruction of Thomas. The whole team is tense, their eyes stuck on the monitors. When Aaron stayed too long on the pit stop while switching his tires, Louis Harmil takes the lead, following by his teammate, Marvin. Fuck. He is now third.
Aaron asks for a visual of the track, racing faster to get back to Louis, but our screens are blurry. An accident probably happened on the track, as smoke is spreading during the turn. My throat is dry—I have a bad feeling—and Aaron’s team starts to feel the panic, as well.
“Marvin is spinning on his own on the circuit. Oh, no! Wolf is arriving just behind him and—” the commentator is interrupted as I hear Thomas yelling with panic in the headset.
“Aaron watch out, Marvin is spinning middle track!”
I can’t witness this. He is gonna crash. He is too close. It’s too late for him to break during the turn. I cover my mouth with my hand as I see Aaron’s car drifting in a 360-degree turn to avoid crashing into Marvin’s car. He goes off the track violently, almost hitting the wall in front of him, as I grab Monica’s hand, tightening my grip on her.
Wolf goes back on the track in one maneuver, losing some precious seconds, but he’s safe. I allow myself to finally exhale, my heart almost breaking, my palms sweating, fearing what could have happened if he hadn’t remained in control of his car.
“That freaking idiot! If I had crashed, it could have ended badly! So stupid, man! Get your fucking car out of here,” Aaron curses in the headset.
He puts himself back in the race, driving even more angrily and recklessly than before, coming for Louis Harmil. He’s feral. The closer Aaron gets to death, the more he is hell-bent on provoking it—which doesn’t help me calm my nerves. Thomas congratulates Aaron before asking him to remain calm.
“That was insane! Marvin did something very dangerous! But what an incredible maneuver from LeBeau! He is going for Harmil,” the commentator says as I meet Monica’s gaze. She gives me a reassuring smile, noticing the mask of fear on my face.
“You need to push, we are tight. Frederich is backing you up.” Thomas plays nervously with his hair before putting both of his hands on his forehead. At least someone is as anxious as I am here. Frederich is Aaron’s teammate, racing at P4. He follows the orders and race precociously, the total opposite of Wolf.
“I’ll overtake him in the chicane,” Aaron adds, preparing himself to pass Louis on the turn.
Thomas orders him to stick to the plan, telling him to not act now, or else he risks crashing his car. But Aaron is magnetically attracted to danger. Overcoming small odds is his forte. He doesn’t listen to Thomas and breaks his car in the under turn to pass in front of Harmil. Louis hits Aaron’s back wheels, almost making him lose control. And it’s a penalty for Louis.Take that, Golden Boy!
“Amazing! Aaron LeBeau is taking the lead! Ten laps to go,” the commentator screams with excitement. My heart is beating, my breath quickens, I’ve never been so emotionally involved in anything.
I hear Aaron chuckle on the headset, provoking Thomas. “You were saying?”
Thomas rolls his eyes. “You’re impossible. Now take the freaking checkered flag home, mate.”
“Copy.”
The crowds cheer harder when the commentator praises Wolf’s racing. I start feeling hopeful, feeling the excitement rushing into my veins. The checkered flag is waved, and Aaron’s team jumps, hugging each other. He won. I pull Monica into a hug, feeling happy for him. He deserves it.
“Yeah! Fucking flag! That’s a win. Good job, guys.” I hear Aaron laughing from my headset. Thomas gives me a thumbs up before I smile back at him. He is proud, I can sense in his eyes his happiness for today’s victory and Aaron.
“And that’s a win for LeBeau. After his disqualification in Monaco, he dazzled us with an incredible victory. He still has a chance to win the world championship.”
That’s the last thing I hear before Aaron does the victory lap. He comes back to his garage, throws off his helmet down, before raising his fist in the air. His team congratulate him, pulling Wolf into hugs and giving him a friendly tap on his shoulders. I stay distant. I want him to enjoy this moment with his team.
When his eyes meet mine, I smile genuinely. Wolf starts ambling toward me, like a knight going to kiss the princess, and butterflies start dancing in my stomach. I want to kiss him. I need the passion within me to explode. I need our bodies to speak in a mercurial, flaming, uncontrollable way. With us, there is no in-between. It’s all or nothing. Hell or Heaven. But our soon to be kiss is interrupted by his team pushing him to claim his first place on the podium.
He holds the trophy and sprays champagne all around the podium. I can’t help but chuckle, appreciating the rare moments of Wolf’s happiness. Racing is what makes him whole (alongside his addiction to winning and being in control).
I pass the next hour by Wolf’s side. After talking with journalists and his team sponsors, we’re back in his garage. I give privacy to Aaron, to let him discuss with his house team CEO, Longfoard. I spot Thomas in the corner, watching the track, his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t seem to like the crowd and the reporters either.
“Can I join you?” He gives me a warm smile as acceptance. “It feels good to be alone, hm?”
“You got me.” He laughs. “I love racing, but the public events, the cameras, fame, all these kind of things, it exhausts me. I’m probably not setting the best example for Aaron.”
“I think it’s good to be with someone who can understand you.” I clear my throat, a mental note to myself, that I’m not talking about Aaron and me in this discussion. Wolf is about to have what he wants. Which also means he is about to not need me anymore. I’ve accomplished my part of the agreement. I’ve broken my rules, but an agreement has an expiration date.We have an expiration date.
“You’re right.” Thomas inspects me as if he senses my confusion. “You know, the after-race is always emotional. You got an adrenaline rush and then you need to get back to reality. It’s pretty messed up.” He raises an eyebrow. “That’s also why racers do it all again.”
