#Rev (GearShark #2)(93)

TM: It makes a difference. Even just one person can make a difference.

GS: So what else can you tell us about the new division?

TM: Preliminary races start next month. There has been a huge turnout and interest, so we expect to see a completely full track when season one starts. More specifically, Drew has signed two endorsement deals with major corporations.

GS: Which are?

TM: We’re going to let those businesses be the ones to announce first. After all, it is their contract.

GS: Drew, what about the rivalry with fellow driver Lorhaven?

DF: As we agreed, we’re keeping that rivalry on the track. You’ll definitely be seeing him, though. He’s picked up a sponsor.

GS: Does he know about your relationship?

TM: Yes. He supports us.

GS: Rivals become friends, perhaps?

TM: Perhaps.

GS: Before I wrap this interview, I was hoping you could each tell me one thing on your bucket list.

<Note: they both responded, and you can read their answers in my Bucket List Confessions! article in the back of this issue. Their answers will appear alongside yours. Thanks to all the readers who sent in submissions!> GS: So what’s next for you both?

TM: Hopefully, a championship trophy for Drew.

GS: And for you?

TM: Happiness.



I think these guys deserve happiness. Don’t you?





Trent

I used to wonder what I did to deserve the life I had.

I wondered why I was being punished.

Deep down, I wasn’t really happy.

Now I wondered how I got so goddamned lucky.

I realized everything I ever felt and went through was to bring me here.

To Drew.

To who I really was.

Deep down, I knew true happiness.





Several months later…

Drew

The airport was bustling with busy people and the sound of beeping golf carts as they sped past. Not my favorite sound.

Three days was too long, too long to go without seeing my person.

I was attached to his face. To seeing his eyes first thing in the morning and hearing his throaty growl when I slid under the covers and took him into my mouth.

French fries didn’t even taste the same when he was gone.

A group of passengers starting filing out of the security point, and I searched their faces, anxious for a glimpse of the one I wanted to see. The more people that came out and the more that weren’t him the more impatient I grew.

Finally, I caught a glimpse of sandy-colored hair and a snippet of a wide shoulder. Adrenaline spiked in my bloodstream and relief poured into my chest.

He glanced up at the exact moment I did, as if our eyes were two magnets with an intense pull. He smiled wide, and I bounced from foot to foot, waiting for him to get his ass over here.

The second he was within arm’s distance, his duffle hit the ground at my feet and we reached out at the same time. It wasn’t a quick embrace. I’d waited what felt like endless hours for the feel of his chest against mine. His arms were my favorite place to be, and I didn’t care who was uncomfortable at the sight of two grown men embracing in the middle of the airport, because I needed the feel of him like I needed oxygen in my lungs.

The softness of his shirt was welcome against my forehead when I pressed it against his shoulder. The tips of his fingers dug into my sides, and I felt the brush of his lips along the side of my hairline.

“I kinda f*cking missed you, Forrester,” he murmured.

“I’m not doing this again, frat boy.” I vowed, and I truly meant it. The next time he had to travel for work, I was going, too.

“C’mon,” he said, releasing me and tossing his bag over his shoulder. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

We held hands through the crowds; we held hands almost everywhere we went these days.

Some people stared. Some people made faces. A few made lewd comments.

Some people smiled.

Sometimes it still bothered me, but most of the time, I felt sorry. Sorry for the people who were so closed off about everything that they would never get to experience the kind of love I felt with Trent.

The best days, though, were when no one even noticed at all. As if two people in love weren’t anything to even notice, as if it were a natural occurrence.

Maybe someday it would be like that always.

“So,” I asked as we headed out into the warm sunshine, “how was your first official business trip for the NRR?”

The NRR was what the division settled on as a name. New Revolution Racing. I liked it; it fit. After Trent’s article and cover ran, the word revolution took on a life of its own in the indie community.

We were a revolution on many fronts, and the new division was taking over, the popularity of the “new” sport even more than Gamble anticipated. The preliminaries were huge, the competition was fierce, and with the actual racing season about to begin, I knew it was only going to get bigger.

Trent’s passion and smarts for business and finance earned him a job offer from Gamble himself. He was now employed by the NRR and handled a lot of the financials but also some of the business side of the division. When Gamble first offered him the position, he was skeptical for two reasons:

1.) He didn’t want the job because of who he knew. He wanted it because he deserved it.

and