Page 80 of Dirty Air
“Didn’t even cry when he broke his foot.”
“Just stay with us if you’re gonna be a big baby about it.”
A chant of “TEAM THIRTY-FOUR!” starts in the garage and they carry it outside as they all herd together for an end-of-season team picture.
Fritz catches Henry’s face in the crowd and he smiles before he’s pushed forward to sit on the front wheel of his car.
He knows what’s coming, but his reaction time is delayed by the photographers who call for his attention. By the time he’s up and running, Fritz has already been drenched with no less than ten red boars and is almost completely blinded.
After running straight into the pool of photographers—possibly injuring someone—some kind soul guides himback to the garage while he catches his bearings. He still can’t see, but he can clearly hear people laughing at him.
Why would he ever love these assholes?
Fritz is handed from one person to another who shrugs him off into a familiar set of arms. “Here you go. Take care of him next year, we want to see him on that podium.”
“Will do,” Henry answers dutifully, shifting Fritz until he can support his weight.
“I think I am being bullied.”
“Absolutely you are.” Henry’s clothes are surprisingly dry, and Fritz tries to use the fabric to wipe at his eyes. “But it’s all out of love. I think.”
Fritz arrives at the paddock for testing early the next morning. He’s only slightly hung over, which is remarkable, honestly. When he’s spotted, the cameras all turn his direction and he smiles.
Yeah, he looks good in the navy team kit.
Fritz has already tested the Red Boar—every driver in the program has—but there’s something electric in the air today. Something permeable.
It’s the start of something new.
The team is testing new tire compounds at different fuel levels and different wing configurations. He’s not supposed to put too much weight on the results, just get a feel for the car.
At the same time, it feels like all eyes are on him as he suits up in Lucas’s driver’s room.
—Hisdriver’s room.
Lucas was just naked in this space yesterday, but it’s Fritz’s now. The champion’s name is still on the door and everything.
Jesus.
Fritz checks himself in the full-length mirror. It’s not necessary,and it’s a little too warm, but he has the race suit zipped all the way up, checking the fit. His name is on his hip, the German flag waving proudly next to it.
He’s the German Red Boar driver now.
Fritz takes a deep breath and opens the door, surprised to see Henry waiting for him on the other side. He’s wearing an appreciative expression, his arms crossed in forced nonchalance. Fritz knows that look.
“Do not say it.” Fritz can’t help but smirk. If he feels a little cocky, so be it.
“You lookgood.” Henry’s eyes drag up his body, heat evident. “Really good.”
“Stop!” Fritz laughs, playfully smacking him. “I cannot be hard for my first day. Go away. Go away right now.”
“Alright, alright.” Henry’s hands pop up in surrender. “But remember, even if I’m not the voice in your ear today, I’ll still be listening in.”
“Try not to get too jealous.”
“No promises.”
It’s a long, grueling morning of hard driving. When Fritz finally emerges from the car, he’s shaking.
