I thrust myself into taking my vlog to the next level. Seven hundred thousand subscribers tune in to my vlogs already, and the ads on my videos turn a nice profit. Sponsors reach out to partner with me, something I never thought was possible. The vlog has surpassed everything I’d ever dreamed of. Sophie and I visit different places in every city we travel to, making the most of my time with Bandini while the explorations conveniently keep me away from Noah.
The month-long summer break between the first and second half of the season couldn’t have come at a better time. I try to lie to myself and say I don’t miss Noah over the vacation. But I do. I check out his social media accounts daily, except he keeps quiet, not posting anything but a couple pictures of the Italian coast. Even gossip accounts have nothing to report on him. He’s taken a break from everything. And maybe it’s a good thing, seeing as his previous indiscretions finally cycled out of the media.
I spend the vacation with my family, including Santi. Besides the temporary bouts of missing Noah, I have a good time.
Sophie comes to Spain to visit us during the last week of the break. My parents welcome her like a second daughter, sharing how grateful they are for me to have someone to spend time with besides Santi.
Sophie and I come up with the best plan. A talent of hers.
“Repeat the plan back to me. I want to make sure you’re convinced.” Sophie paints her nails in my bedroom. Tomorrow, we both fly together to the next race because she wants to prep me before seeing Noah at the Belgian Grand Prix.
I jokingly roll my eyes even though I appreciate her friendship and dedication to making sure I keep out of trouble.
“All right. Since I’m now a mature woman who knows better, I’m going to be civil and nice. I don’t need to play games with him. We are two adults who can get along for the sake of the team.”
Sophie smiles up at the quote she makes me repeat every time I bring up Noah. “And…” She waves her hand expectantly.
“I will not give in.”
“In to what exactly? I need to hear you say it.”
Ugh, she actually wants me to repeat it.
“I will not fall for his rough yet sweet personality, rock-hard abs, kissable lips, or fuckable body.” My new go-to chant.
Her green eyes sparkle. “Atta girl. I’m so proud. Look how quickly you grew in a month. Vacation glow looks good on you.” She pinches my cheeks.
“Why does this feel like it’s going to be a disaster?”
“Stop your catastrophizing. You’re going to give yourself a migraine. What’s the goal for the second half of the season? Maybe we need to run through it one more time.”
She’s so full of it. But I give in because she flashes me two dimples.
“Grow my vlog, find a nice man to go on a couple of dates with, and spend time with my best friend.”
Sophie claps her hands like I’m a child saying my first words. The display comes off dramatic and silly, but it fits her.
“Yes, girl. Cheers to that!” We clink our glasses and sip our wine.
The cold liquid soothes my throat. “Where does one find nice men in F1 anyway? I’m curious.”
“Leave that up to me. I’m your fairy godmother but instead of waving a magic wand, I use a magic dildo. Works like a charm. It’s guaranteed to land you the best dick you’ve ever had.”
Wine nearly streams out of my nose.
Not sure what I volunteered myself for, but I can’t help feeling worried.
22
Noah
I regret how I went about everything in Baku, including how my anger got the best of me after the race, making stupid statements to Maya. I messed up big time with her. But I want to fix it and make things right.
I spend a good portion of the break working out kinks in my car and strategizing with the team for the second half of the Championship season.
But I also spend time going to therapy.
Yup. Let that sink in for a second. Me in therapy.
I sit in my psychologist’s office, attending one of my two weekly sessions. One session per week wouldn’t cut it because I need to work through a ton of shit about my parents, relationships, and my issues with commitment. And I don’t have a lot of time before the next race.
The whole process has been a lot to take in. Some days I leave sessions pissed off while other times I leave sad because of how fucked up my parents are and the damage they’ve caused. Therapy is an emotional struggle that drains me worse than driving one-hundred laps around a Prix track.
“What holds you back from wanting a relationship?” My therapist’s brown eyes gaze at me from across the room as he sits casually in his beige chair. I sit on a leather couch, switching between staring up at the ceiling and meeting his gaze.