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Thank you for everything, including the holy water you’ll bathe me in after you read this book.
“Santiago cut in front of Liam at the last turn. Don’t underestimate him, he wants the win.”
His skills are decent for a new guy, but one too many close calls during this race season make me hesitant to let him get close.
I plan on punching him the moment he enters the Cool Down room after the Prix. Knock that pretty boy smile right off his face.
A broken, mangled history of missed birthdays, uncelebrated holidays, and empty bleachers at most Formula races.
I’m an asshole with walls higher than the Grand fucking Canyon.
Maya Alatorre, Bachelor of Arts in Communications.”
Santi takes a deep breath before he breaks out a smile. “My agent just told me Bandini offered me a contract for next season.”
Well, shit. Santi doesn’t need to steal my thunder when he robs the whole damn storm.
My maya baby
“I want you to come to my races this season. You can take the year to figure out what you want to do next. Plus it’ll be fun because this is our chance to finally travel together.”
“Yes, thanks again. I have it all set up, and I’m pumped to vlog. I already bought a hand-held tripod to film F1 stuff.”
“Santi’s lucky his life panned out like he wanted. He’s an all-star at twenty-four years old.
“I went over a few ground rules with Maya, you know, to keep her out of trouble. God forbid I find her drunk and crying on a bathroom floor to a Jonas Brothers song.”
I’m one of Formula 1’s best, after all, which means I have an image to keep up.
A couple weeks ago, Bandini hired Santiago Alatorre as a second racer. My rival is now my teammate. A scrappy little shit who likes to go balls to the wall, consequences be damned.
Ballsy motherfucker.
Santiago quote
Fans call me F1 royalty, an American Prince because of my dad, the amazing Nicholas Slade.
A sport with drama, high speeds, and intense risks.
He’s hot, in a devilishly handsome kind of way. Messy hair so dark it looks black, sharp cheekbones that can shave ice, and lips every woman can envy.
Hard to resist seeing Noah get showered with champagne on a Prix podium while he beams down at the trophy in his hand.
Noah’s the type of guy you don’t bring home to mom; he’s the one you screw around with before you find the guy you finally take home to mom, ensuring her you’ve moved on from your wild ways.
He notices my reaction and winks at me.
Charles lewink
How on earth will I survive a season around someone who looks like him?
Men like Noah are only built for wickedness.
He opens his mouth. “Side pieces don’t come to these types of things either so she can stay away. Maybe you’ll be less of a dumbass.”
Patiently reminding myself of his character devlopment
I start toward him, wanting to get uncomfortably close because death stares look better from inches away.
“He’s my older brother, asshole. Can’t you see the family resemblance? Or is the cloud of superiority around you so thick that you didn’t notice?”
ATE
Assholes don’t do it for me, no matter how pretty their faces are.
“Do you mind if I sit here?”
“And if I do mind?”
“I would probably sit here anyway then.”
“How do you keep your ego in check?” “I don’t.” My grin expands. She rolls her eyes,
He tends to be a situational hothead, much like other F1 racers. High-stress situations usually call for it.
F1 is pretty hip, not going to lie.
Don’t get me started on Jax, that man has trouble following him like a bad smell.”
“Cuídate. Behind the glitz and glam, people live with lies and unhappiness.”
Santi can settle for winning the Constructors with me because I want to be the World Champion this year.
Liam’s a German guy who drives with McCoy, another top team. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed man with a god complex.
Liam can be considered a good-looking guy. A six-foot tall German jock who needs a short beard to hide his baby face.
Everything about him screams good parents who gave him sugar, spice, and everything nice. Unlike me who reeks of broodiness and bad memories, driving away from my demons week after week.
I like the sound of Maya’s soft laugh.
Not soon after, Santiago and I prepare for our cars. We zip up our matching race suits and grab our helmets.
My favorite lullaby is the rumbling sound of the car.
A speedy pit crew are the unsung heroes of F1, the ones who make the magic happen once I box in the garage area.
Noah may put on a whole arrogant show, but he backs it up with his racing. His performance makes it obvious why fans love him.
In F1, champagne is the messier equivalent of confetti launchers at other sporting events.
Who needs Girls Gone Wild when you have F1 podiums?
these guys are after two things only: trophies and ladies. And preferably in that order.
Amazing what two pretty boys can do.
“I’m Sophie. You probably haven’t because I just got here.” She offers her hand and I take it. “Maya. I haven’t seen anyone my age except my brother. Glad I ran into you—literally.”
