Page 77 of The Player Penalty
“Do you feel good about it?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
Julian feels confident, hopeful, or ready at the beginning of every race. He always answers in the same even tone, too. I’ve come to find his simple assessments incredibly sexy. The wayhe evaluates his performance is clear-eyed about his skills and the skills of his competitors. Julian doesn’t brag; he states the obvious.
His eyes meet mine. “It’s a good car. We had the second and fifth fastest laps during practice. We’re ready for whatever happens, and I expect good racing.”
Dad listens to our every word, even as he tries to pretend otherwise. His body language isn’t good enough to hide it.
“It will be another top five,” I boldly say.
“With you here cheering me on, it might be. Are you hungry yet? Dinner is marinating, so we can eat when you’re ready.”
I smile at Julian’s assumption I would join him. His cooking skills are limited to baked chicken, brown rice, and a vegetable. The only surprise is his choice of seasoning. My cooking is better, but that doesn’t mean very much. It works out well because Julian can stick to his diet, and it’s one less surprise for me to conquer.
“You go on,” Dad says. “Boone asked to meet up one last time before the day ends.”
I kiss his cheek. “Be back later.” At least, I’ll try. We haven’t stuck to our rule about limited activity during race weekends very well. It’s not even Julian’s fault, as I’m as likely to jump him whenever we’re alone as the other way around.
28-Lily
“How was the race last night?” I ask Julian as we settle down to eat.
“I’m crushed you didn’t watch it.”
“The guy I’m dating isn’t in it, which makes it boring.” I shrug.
Julian chuckles and bites his lip. “Good answer. Matteo’s skills are growing. He also has the same bumper-car instincts as other rookies. They get to the final dozen laps and decide the rules state drivers need to ram into each other for the win.”
“Spoken like a snobby Cup Series driver,” I tease.
“Yeah, probably,” he says without the least bit of embarrassment. “It’s still true. We had a bit of adventure, though.”
“What happened?”
“Bees.”
“What?” I ask.
“Bees. There was a giant beehive on top of the grandstand. We were swarmed at one point.”
“Did they sting you?”
Julian lifts his leg, displaying an ugly knot on one calf. “I got off lucky.”
I stare at it. “Are you allergic?” I stroke the spot, and he doesn’t relax. “That must have been miserable.”
“Wasps are worse. Trust me, and no allergy, thank goodness. The worst part is that we had a race going on. Bees wanted us dead, and we needed to do our jobs.” Julian laughs hard enough so his shoulders shake.
“It isn’t funny. You could have died.”
“Not likely. You should have been there to defend me.” He leans over to kiss me.
“I would have run away. In that situation, it’s everyone for themselves.”
“I’m crushed.”
“It’s race or be raced. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.” This is what dating Julian is like. Dr. Lambert was correct; my medication levels are perfect. There’s no way I could flirt and tease like this a year ago.
“Sweetheart, I’d sacrifice myself for you. Come here.” Julian cups my cheeks, pulling me close for another kiss. It starts with a soft peck and then deeper, like a reunion after being apart for so long. “I missed you,” he says after pulling away.
