I couldn’t believe we were having a fight already. How did this happen? “Hold on,” I tried. “Do we really need to do this? If I said anything to make you mad, I’m sorry. I’m pretty new to this.”
She stayed quiet for a minute, then took a drink of wine. “No, we don’t,” she muttered. “I’m sorry, too. I think maybe there’s some of our underlying fear of commitment here.”
“Wow!” I said, impressed. “You should have been a shrink.”
“I majored in psychology.” She grinned. She turned to face me and put down her drink. “It’s a big help in my job, knowing what people want and how they will act.”
I put down my wine, too, and scooted towards her. I slid my hands inside her robe, tracing my fingers delicately along her rib cage, and brushed my thumbs gently over her hardening nipples. She sighed and closed her eyes.
“So you’re always going to know what I want?” I whispered, then kissed her softly on the lips. “How am I ever going to know what you want?”
She slipped her hands under my robe in return, between my legs, and grabbed my stiffening shaft.
“I think I can probably find some ways to let you know.” She smiled.
Summer
It was good to spend the night together again. We did it twice more before we fell asleep, enjoying the luxury of waking in the morning and fucking even more, both before and after we had breakfast in bed. Eventually, we had to leave for the track again, though.
James’s phone rang constantly as we were getting ready and driving to the track. I could hear Keith panicking on the other end because we were late. He screamed at James to get moving. He was keen for James to capitalize on his excellent performance yesterday. James told him he was fired. Keith told James he didn’t give a fuck. It was an interesting dynamic they had, but we were in time for James to get out for the rider’s morning warm up. There were still a couple of races before James had to start at 2:00 p.m. involving the smaller engine GP bikes. Other James was kind enough to explain it all to me.
As inseparable as we felt, I knew I was causing tension today by distracting him. I didn’t want them to start whispering about us as being joined at the hip, or worse, end up being labeled as needy or ‘Yoko.’ I hated those co-dependent couples, so after practice, I wandered off to watch the other races alone. I returned to the JSR garage briefly to give James a good luck kiss, just as the team started preparing for the start of his race, then I bid him adieu and left to see what I could find.
I strolled down the pit lane, sticking my nose in the garages when I could. I was used to the smell and the noise now. In fact, since that clarifying session with my mom, I was enjoying the race experience again. It still devastated me that it cost him his life, but my father did die providing for his family and doing what he loved. Everywhere I looked, something conjured up a happy memory of him. A technician looking for a wrench reminded me of Dad having me pass him tools as he worked on his racecar. Another guy carrying some tires made me think of the time he tripped and fell, landing ass first in a small stack of rubber and getting stuck. I smiled to myself as I remembered how Uncle Reggie had to come over and help him get out. As I let my mind sort through these fond memories, all I could see was my dad’s smiling face. He had loved me, he had loved my mother, and my heart hurt as I imagined how he’d feel about me using his memory to keep myself from being truly happy.
I happened on the Repsol Honda garage, and there was the young PA, Sam, massaging the shoulders of her new star racer boyfriend. She saw me and excused herself. She was so happy, enthused about how well things were going between them. She asked me about James and I told her we were working on it. We gossiped about anything we could think of until we were told we were in the way.
I promised to catch up soon and continued my walk. Four doors down, I found myself at the garage of the English rider who James referred to as Blake. He was younger than James, but the sour look that occupied his face most of the time, coupled with a big chin and a receding hairline, meant he was never going to be called attractive. He didn’t say anything to me—why would he—but then I heard a petulant voice behind me.
“I do hope everything is going well for you two.”
I turned around and the brunette stood there, arms crossed, foot tapping, though stunning. It was such a shame her insides didn’t match her outsides.