Page 9 of Formula Fling

Lex grins, his excitement returning full force. “Don’t wait up,” he says before chugging the rest of his drink. He slams it down and jogs out to the dance floor. He’s exuberant, practically bouncing as he joins Ronan, already shouting and pumping his fist like they’ve just won a race.

I note a few guys off to the side eyeballing Lex, Carlos and Ronan with jealousy, whispering to one another and throwing them dirty looks. I watch for a moment, a knot tightening in my belly. I know enough to know that nights like this never end well. The attention they’re getting from the women isn’t helping. This feels like a powder keg waiting to explode, and it’s just… typical. Probably why when I write romance, I get so lost in the fantasy of how a man should act and not the reality.

I settle into the booth, watching Lex looking to take everything that’s offered to him.

♦

Lex’s arm isslung over my shoulders, and he’s leaning on me so heavily that I’m not sure if I’m supporting him or if we’re both about to collapse. His weight shifts unsteadily with each step as I fumble with the key card to my hotel room. I push the door open, and we stumble inside, Lex nearly toppling over as we do.

“Y’know, I didn’t get in a fight tonight,” he slurs, his words tumbling out as he leans harder against me. He grins like it’s a major achievement, and in some ways, I guess it is.

“Great job,” I mutter as I guide him toward the couch. “Let’s just focus on walking right now.”

“I’m good at that,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by my shoulder. “Good at a lot of things. If you’re interested, I could show you what I mean.”

I ignore the way he sounds suspiciously like he’s flirting and aim for the small couch. He’s barely able to stay upright, and I’m already exhausted from trying to wrangle him out of the club tonight. Carlos had left and Ronan was no help, so I had to convince Lex it was time to go. I didn’t owe him anything but weirdly, I felt responsible for him.

He passed out in the cab and I couldn’t wake him up, so I had no clue how to get him home because I didn’t know where he lived. It was with great reluctance I brought him back to my hotel.

We reach the couch, and I let him flop down onto it face-first. He lands with a thud, his arm dangling off the side, and within seconds, he’s out cold, snoring softly.

I stand there for a moment, staring down at him. He’s so proud of himself for not getting into trouble tonight, but I’m the one who had to drag him out before things went south. I sigh and shake my head, stepping back and glancing around. It’s a far cry from the sleek clubs and luxury cars I’ve been exposed to tonight—just a modest-size room with a double bed, a small bathroom,a couch with a passed-out race car driver, and an ornate desk by the window with a view that looks out onto a quiet street.

I’m not tired, though. If anything, I’m a little wired. I drop my bag onto the table and sit at the desk, pulling my laptop toward me. The screen flickers to life, and my document pops up—the rough outline of my latest project,Formula Fling. It’s still just a shell of a story at this point, a few chapters here and there, but tonight… tonight feels like inspiration.

I start typing, the words flowing easier than they have in days.

He led her onto the dance floor, the music pulsing around them, drowning out everything but the steady thrum of her heartbeat. She felt his hand at the small of her back, guiding her closer, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered something only she could hear.

I pause, glancing over my shoulder at Lex. He’d been a mess tonight, but I can’t help but wonder… if I were prettier or more appealing, would he have looked at me differently? Would he have asked me to dance instead of those other girls? I shake the thought away quickly, feeling ridiculous for even considering it. This is a job, not some fantasy romance.

Besides, there’s nothing remotely redeeming about Lex. He’s no romance hero.

I turn back to my computer.She looked up at him, her pulse quickening as his fingers traced slow, teasing patterns against her skin. His eyes met hers, and the playful smile on his lips sent a jolt of electricity through her body.

I keep writing, letting the scene unfold, imagining a version of tonight where the heroine—who is suspiciously starting to resemble me—gets the attention of the impossibly handsome race car driver. He doesn’t just see her as a journalist, or as someone plain and ordinary, or even someone who’s easy to be had, but as someone intriguing.

Someone worth pursuing.

“You’re different from the others,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “You’re not like them.”

It’s absurd, really. The idea that someone like Lex would say something like that to someone like me. But in this story—my story—anything’s possible.

I finish the scene with a critical eye. The heroine gets the guy, of course. He’s drawn to her because she’s different. Special. The kind of romance that only happens in books.

I save the document and then reach my arms overhead as I stifle a yawn. It’s late and the hotel room is quiet, save for Lex’s steady breathing. I glance at him one more time, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all.

A world-famous formula driver passed out on my couch, and here I am, writing a love story about someone just like him. If only my heroine knew what she was getting herself into.

With a final stretch, I collapse into bed. It sucks sleeping in my clothes but I’m not about to put on my pajamas with Lex in the room.

I wonder what he’ll think about me bringing him here.

I wonder if he’ll be any nicer.

Tomorrow’s going to be interesting, that’s for sure.

CHAPTER 4

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