![]() ![]() “You guys look like you had quite the night. That was a terrible idea, man.” Jax pats my shoulder as he throws me under the bus. “Never going out the night before a qualifier again. I don’t even think he blinked at any other girls who came onto us. Was I the only one who got seriously fucked up? Come to think of it, he was sober as hell. “Shit luck today, bro.” Liam doesn’t look the least bit phased from last night. I stroll up to the guys, keeping it casual even though I barely have it together inside. The smile she had before slips from her face, and it pisses me off how I’ve turned her mood sour in two seconds flat. But I can’t control it my fists clench at the sight of them, envy whirling inside of me like toxic air. I don’t have a right to feel jealous since I can’t give her what she wants. ![]() It shouldn’t upset me but shit it stings to see her wrapping her arms around him and laughing, unaware of how he got a blowjob at the table last night from a random chick. A cold feeling creeps its way up my spine at the sight of Jax pulling her in for a hug. I spot Sophie and Maya talking with Liam and Jax on the main road near all the hospitality suites. ![]() Even if she’s disinterested in hooking up with me, it’s wrong. Like for taking her out on a date and fucking another girl in the same day. I need to find Maya and apologize for everything. Since Santi has the pole position, he’ll be distracted. The only small blessing from today is how I don’t have to attend the press conference meant exclusively for the top three racers. I haven’t had such an embarrassing placement since I started out in F1, and I don’t know if I’ll live this one down. Somehow, I find enough self-control to not flip them off, instead choosing to give a thumbs up to the camera while I hunch over. All of this happens while a local camera crew films me. My body revolts against me as I throw up twice near a patch of grass close to the pit area, the acidic taste making me nauseous all over again. I rush out of my car once the qualifier finishes. Fans watch the worst display of my entire racing career. Sweat trickles down my back, soaking the material of my fireproof gear as I careen across the track. The usual hum of the engine fills me with dread, guilt eating away at me as I think about Maya and how she might feel if she heard about my night. The qualifier performance is sloppy and unprofessional. My nasty hangover doesn’t pair nicely with my car going two hundred miles an hour round and round the track. I spend all my mental energy on not blowing chunks inside my helmet because I’d never live that down. Bile creeps up my throat during most of the turns after, the curves of the track not faring well with the alcohol seeping from my pores. That is until I make it past my first turn. The beginning of my qualifier goes okay as my car takes down the first straightaway. Sweat clings to my chest before the engine starts up, a shitty omen for my fuck-tastic day. Bandini mechanics look down at me, unsure how to help, as I clamber into my car. Embarrassed doesn’t begin to describe how I feel. I’m a hot, crappy mess and fuck if it isn’t humbling. I trip over my feet while rushing to my car. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |