Once I drive into the pit, the team controls my fate with their speed of tire changes. Crew members complete their job in two seconds flat, and I speed down the pit lane, not wanting many drivers to get in front of me.
I catch up to Noah soon after, regaining my second-place spot. Noah and I dance around each other in a messed-up salsa, dangerously close as we hit a straight section in unison before heading toward the next turn. Neither one of us is willing to pull behind the other. His tire clips mine at one of the turns, nearly causing me to spin out. Fucking bastard. I pull my car back as I flip him off with a gloved finger.
“Liam, any damage?” Chris’s voice sounds off in my earpiece.
“Let me pull over and check it out.” My voice drips with sarcasm.
“I don’t know what lit a fire under your ass but keep it up. You may redeem your Sochi shittiness.” Chris mutes himself.
“Fucking better.” Labored breaths escape my mouth. People underestimate the physical exhaustion that comes with driving these cars, with racers sweating worse than a husband filing for a divorce without a prenup.
The crowd screams over the howls of the car engines. By lap fifty-two, I have a podium finish in the bag. The thought of winning the bet makes me grin behind my helmet.
I raise a fist in the air as my car crosses the finish line. Looks like I secured a date with the hottest girl in Bandini and landed myself on the podium—two wins worth chugging champagne.
I take the stage with Santiago and Noah. Maya and Sophie hang out in the VIP area off to the side of the stage, watching us from afar. Podium ceremonies include a few of my favorite things: winners, exploding champagne bottles, and fans. Music booms from the stage speakers, drowning out screams from the crowd.
A few F1 attendants pass us massive bottles of champagne. Noah, Santi, and I shake the bottles before the resounding pop fills the air. We spray the crowds and each other with the contents before we chug any remaining liquid.
From across the event, I point the tip of my bottle at Sophie. My jaw hurts from smiling so damn much. Screw ramifications. Abstinence deserves a small reward, and I’m ready to claim my prize.
8
Sophie
It’s been a few days since Liam’s win in Russia, which means my time for avoiding our date is over. Unfortunately for him, I change his original plan into a double date by inviting Maya and Jax. Some call it cowardice, but I prefer cleverness. Poor Liam doesn’t know me well enough to anticipate my usual tricks, but he should’ve been more specific about the logistics of his bet.
After I begged Maya to join me on a double date, I decided to repay the favor by taking her out to lunch and telling her about my Fuck It list. My secret lasted a total of one month between Shanghai and Barcelona. Damn Liam and his performance in Sochi, pushing me to reveal my plan because I needed to convince Maya to come with me.
“Who would’ve thought Sweet Sophie made a naughty list.” She smiles behind her water glass.
“Screw being sweet. I want to be called sexy and seductive.”
She laughs as she shakes her head. “Okay, naughty Sophie. Just to be clear, this is one date, right? And you won’t ditch me in the end? I need to make sure you won’t run off with Liam into the night.”
“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll even take you out tomorrow for brunch as a thank you. Think of all the sangria I can supply you with—all that bottomless, sugary goodness can count as your daily serving of fruit.”
“I’ll never say no to brunch. But seriously, do you even think Liam’s cute?” She tilts her head at me.
“Of course, I do. Hence the problem! Liam is funny, charismatic, handsome, and his usual philosophy aligns with everything I crave.”
“So how is he not a good fit to help you with your list?”
“To start, he drives for the enemy, and I think I’d die of embarrassment seeing him all the time after doing half my items. Imagine me running into him and blurting out: ‘Hi, Liam, remember the time you tied me up in bed and made me come? Good times, right?’”
Maya smiles. “You can always ask him about the weather.”
“‘Feels pretty cold outside today, kind of like the time you licked my body with an ice cube!’”
Maya lets out a laugh that gains the attention of other restaurant goers. “You need to work on your small talk. But jokes aside, I’m curious about what your dad will say about this double date then?”
I wave her off. “He’s not going to find out. He’s old and goes to sleep by 8 p.m. anyway.”