Setting it down, I stride out and wait for the boys to finish in the bathroom. I walk out onto the famous patio where Gianni Versace would sit and say hi to people walking past his marvelous mansion.
Breathing in the air of an early morning in Miami, I stand here until I hear the bathroom door open. Spinning around, I see Mr. Donatello walk out in his casual suit attire. Xavier is right next to him in beige khaki shorts and a shirt with blue, red, and yellow graphic designs going in random patterns around the fabric. But the best part about the look is the bucket hat that’s the same color as his shorts with strings hanging down on both sides of his face.
It’s all very Xavier.Picking my clothes up off the bed, I walk past the guys and close the bathroom door behind me.
We eventually make it back to our original hotel. We hop out of the car, walking into the incredible air conditioning. I sigh in bliss as I feel it spread across my skin.
In Mexico, we don’t have air conditioning in most situations. It doesn’t need to be utilized often, especially in a rainy city like CDMX. In places like Cancun, it’s essential. I like the heat, but only when I have air conditioning or something cold to jump into.
“I’ll see you both later. Make sure to get all your PR stuff done today, and Miss Castillo, Netflix needs your interview forDrive for Your Life.” I nod as he walks away into the elevator. Feeling a hand on my shoulder, I can already sense Xavier’s mischievous smile behind me.
“Well, that was eventful.”
“Yep. But remember, we will never speak of that incident ever again.”
He smiles.
“I wasn’t even thinking about it, Ale. Until you brought it up.”
“Liar.” His impish grin crawls up my skin like maggots decomposing a body. This man isn’t going to be able to keep his mouth shut, is he?
I sigh. “I’m sorry, but it’s not every day you see two people that absolutely despise each other cuddling.”
“I wasn’t cuddling him. He was cuddling me. There’s an extreme difference.”
“It takes two to cuddle.” He holds up two digits in front of my face, trying to get his point across. It irks me even more.
“I would never cuddle with that man on purpose. He is the definition of arrogant.”
“You mean a man who knows his place. Ale, I think it scares you to see someone who is just as confident in himself as you are.”
“Nope, because I have all odds against me, and he is praised for coming back to F1. Again, big difference.”
“Whatever you say.”
He walks toward the elevator like Mr. Donatello did just minutes ago.
I dislike Mr. Donatello because he’s an asshole, nothing more nothing less. It’s not an obligation to like someone who treats everyone like shit.
He can’t even smile at people or say a basic thank you. That shows how much of a prick he is. End of story.
ChapterSeventeen
Maria Alejandra
We’re back in Barcelona, this time not for qualifying. But for the actual race. I qualified second and Xavier qualified fifth. When I got out of the car, I knew that I could beat Ren, who was currently on pole position.
He’s in a Sansui, which is the second fastest car on the track this season. But all things considered, Elektra is the quickest and most strategic. Even with all the regulation changes that happened last year. We’re still at the top of the food chain.
I feel the win on my fingertips. Once I qualified second, I felt a thrill run through my veins. Now’s not the time to talk about my place on the grid; it could be taken at any second. But I won’t let it happen. All I can do is try and avoid any driver behind me, including Xavier. He’s known for being able to overtake even from the back of the grid. I love him, but he’s not taking that grid place from me. The only overtaking I will see is me going from second to first.
I know I can do it; I believe it to my core. I just have to put it into action. I can manifest all I want, but saying things isn’t the same as doing them.
Putting my AirPods in, I press play and my pre-race playlists starts blaring in my ears. “Friction” by Imagine Dragons begins to play. I put it on full volume so that my whole body can feel the vibration of the music.
Jumping up and down, I shake my limbs out, trying to let the circulation run throughout my body. Getting into a Formula One car is like the pre-wave effects of a drug; you feel the rush about to hit. But once you get into the car and race, that’s when you get the hit of morphine coursing through every part of your body.
I walk out onto the pit lane after grabbing all my gear and sliding it on. Striding past the narrow road, I reach the starting straight, where all the engineers are checking out the car’s diagnostics. Before every race, they make sure all of the parts are working correctly.