Throttled: Dirty Air (Book 1)(17)
By the time he makes his way back to his room, he looks calm. I get up from the small couch and give him a hug. His sweaty body plasters to mine as my lungs get a deep inhale of oil, sweat, and rubber. Kind of gross. I pretend to gag as I wrap my arms around him, my head barely reaching his shoulders.
“You tried hard. Fourth place is good, and you’ll be on the podium next time.”
He returns my hug. “I’m disappointed I didn’t try to cut around more. I played it too safe because I was scared of messing up the car.”
“You can’t race with a fearful mindset. You never have before, and you shouldn’t start now, not when you’re racing against the best. Think of it as another car with plenty of parts to fix anything.”
Despite today’s cautious performance, Santi has a rep of being ruthless on the track.
“You’re right, I’ll bring my best next time. Screw it.” He pulls away from me.
Santi beats himself up whenever he doesn’t place on the podium. I believe he can succeed next time out on the course, especially with plenty of races for him to improve his standing for the World Championship.
“I’m going to have to show up at the after-party to congratulate Noah. It’s what sponsors would want, and I don’t want to look like a sore loser.” He sticks his tongue out at me. “Top five isn’t that bad for the first one. I’ll bounce back.” A telling smile crosses his face. Santi cares about losing, but he won’t let it get in the way of his professionalism. What an adult.
Yay for team spirit.
“Then we better get going. Let’s go wish Noah a job well done.” I give him a mischievous grin.
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.
I sense the excitement from the rowdy crowd once Santi and I walk up to the podium event. Groups of them gather around, bouncing along to the music streaming from the speakers on the stage, waving around face poster cutouts of Liam and Noah. I can’t imagine being so famous that people actually pay for big blown-up pictures of your face. Watching my own face staring back at me would make me die of embarrassment, right there on the stage floor.
Santi and I hang out in a VIP area off to the side, enjoying the show from a less sweaty and chaotic distance. My preferable choice. We have a full visual of the winners’ podium, including the perfect view of Noah spraying his champagne on Liam. I sigh at the display. Santi looks over at me and raises his brow. I cover up my laugh with a cough, embarrassment tinging my cheeks.
In F1, champagne is the messier equivalent of confetti launchers at other sporting events. Drivers shake bottles and splatter the contents everywhere. The crowd roars as champagne splashes on them, opening their mouths to capture droplets. Who needs Girls Gone Wild when you have F1 podiums?
Santi drops his disappointed mood, replacing his frown with a smile as all of them celebrate on stage. He even cheers when they announce all of the winners.
We find Noah, Liam, and the other winner outside of the press building after a post-race conference to say congratulations to them. I choose to give a thumbs up while saying hi, barely suppressing a groan at how awkward I look. Smooth, Maya. Killing it.
Noah lets out a gruff snicker at my attempt, along with Liam barking out a laugh, adding to my embarrassment. Can’t fault myself when I have no idea how to greet them.
I stand around awkwardly. Santi offers Noah and Liam a typical guy handshake and slap on the back move. Noah’s eyes heat up at the sight of me, swirling with deeper shades of blue than usual as they trail down my body. He flatters me. Either he sucks at subtlety, or he doesn’t care if I notice.
My breath hitches when I check him out in his red race suit. Tight material presses up against firm muscles, highlighting a strict workout schedule. His hair looks sweaty and unruly, with a few pieces sticking up in different directions, and his wicked smile shines. He makes wild look sexy. I glance away before he catches me staring at him like a weirdo.
Being around all these hot guys throws me off. I need to stop having these intrusive thoughts about Noah, especially since he’s my brother’s teammate. How do other women keep up with these men? My brain bombards itself with images of puppies and grandmas to avoid checking him out again.
Liam’s eyes gaze up and down my body. These guys boost my self-esteem by the second because they don’t give a damn about hiding their attraction. He gives me a lazy grin when he notices my lifted brow and crossed arms. But I feel disappointed when my body doesn’t have the same reaction to Liam that it does with Noah, my insides not heating up from a glance. Not even a flare of attraction. No racing heartbeat or warmth pooling inside of me at his perusal, only a basic acknowledgment of his good looks.
“I’m Liam. We haven’t had a chance to meet yet, but I saw you in the press conference and had no clue you’re Santi’s sister. You were a sight for sore eyes in a sea of old male reporters.” He takes my hand and gives it a kiss like a prince from the olden days. Oh, this one is full of pick-up lines. Hanging around him will be a good time.
I chuckle, snapping back into the conversation. “I’m making it my mission to attend as few of those events as I can. It’s surprising how they let you get away with taking shots at one another, and at the reporters too.”
Nothing short of a comedy roast each week with Liam and Noah teasing each other, their candidness pleasing reporters and fans.