Someone knocks on the hotel door, pulling me away from my computer. I open the door to find Noah leaning against the frame. He glides past me and walks into the room, taking up a spot against the gray sectional while I take a seat.
“I want to take you out on a date.”
I check the time on my phone. “At ten in the morning?” Staying in the hotel room sounds like a fine idea, unless the date he plans involves brunch and mimosas. I can get behind that.
“Exactly why we better get going.” He pulls me off the couch and toward the bedroom to get ready.
I smack his hands away when he tries to help me take off my pajamas. “Hands off or else we’ll never make it.”
He chuckles to himself.
“Does this date involve breakfast food?” Please say yes.
“Nope. But afterwards we can get something to eat.” He won’t share information. Suspicious.
Noah’s eyes gleam. I should be concerned because that look usually leads to hours in the bedroom. Take my word for it because we’ve bounced around each other’s hotel rooms for the past week at all hours of the day.
But I go along with his plan because it’s nice of him to set up a date. Noah claims he’s changed. Who am I to rain on his parade?
I still can’t deny my apprehension about the whole thing. Not the sex part. That part is banging. Okay, I know that pun is bad. I blame all the Instagram captions I have to come up with because being punny is basically a full-time job.
But everything else between Noah and me still remains questionable. It’s brand-spanking new with us being in the relationship honeymoon stage. Ask me again once the going gets tough. Like when my lies to my brother about my whereabouts blow up in my face.
Positive energy flows right out of me the moment he pulls up to the location of our first real date. An odd choice for a one on one. I drag my body out of the car and take a step apart from him the moment we get within range of the video cameras in the Bandini pit. We still have to keep up appearances in front of my brother and everyone else that can spill our secret. Only Sophie can be trusted.
“Our date is at the racetrack?”
My eyes assess the crowd in front of us. Not sure why he wants to visit the location for the Malaysian Grand Prix. Should I be worried about future dates if he thinks this is a good spot for our official one as a new couple?
I’ll have to take charge of the next one.
Noah rubs his hands together. “Think of this as a trust exercise. You know how people do trust falls?”
“Uh. Sure?” I nod along. Uncertainty creeps up my spine when he smiles down at me.
“So, I don’t want to worry about how you might not trust me yet. I want to make sure you do. Because that’s the foundation of relationships.” He sounds confident about all of this.
What podcasts does he listen to? I don’t know whether I should be concerned or impressed.
“Your smile makes me a little nervous,” I blurt out. Nothing good comes from his shit-eating grin, the same look I give my parents when I’m hiding something.
He walks toward Bandini’s pit area, a silent command to follow him. I wish I had stayed in the car. Distant sounds of tires squealing across pavement alert my senses.
A group of people rallies around the pit area. Camera crews film people getting inside of neon-colored Bandini cars, perfectly lined, making up the entire rainbow.
I make the mistake of reading the banner above our heads. Bandini Race Day Experience. Drive like an F1 racer.
Oh, no.
His hand gives mine a reassuring squeeze before he drops it.
“Please tell me we’re doing a press appearance.” My voice sounds stronger than I feel.
Hope surges through me at the idea of coming to watch and cheer fans on. Noah can take them for a spin while I stand behind the barriers, a few fist pumps in the air to sell my enthusiasm while he careens down the track.
“We are.” He reveals nothing more. My heart rate slows down, confident the date is what I expect. Safety barrier here I come.
He speaks again. “But we’re filming from inside that car.”
Oh, shit. Please tell me he means I’m going to look inside the car for two seconds. Slap the hands of the nerds who design the cars, take a quick photo, throw a thumbs up. A girl can dream.
My eyes follow his pointing finger. They land directly on a neon green Bandini car with open scissor doors. It looks like a car from the future, estimated at about 500,000 dollars.
“I am not setting a foot behind a steering wheel.” Over my dead body. Hard no.
“You don’t have to worry about that.” He fills me with faith before ripping it away. “I’m going to be behind the wheel.”
I need to put in a Bandini work order for this man to get a warning sign. Noah all but drags me to the neon green beauty with black leather seats and neon green piping.
A Bandini employee passes me a helmet. I don’t put up much of a verbal fight with Noah because people watch us, and I can’t be too embarrassing. Press crew follows us, eating up my reluctant display like I drag my feet for the fun of it. My stomach rolls, my face most likely matching the same green shade as our car.
I take deep breaths, trying to relax.
“Here we have Noah Slade taking Maya Alatorre onto the track. Maya, how do you feel about being driven around by one of the best race car drivers out there?” A reporter jams a foam microphone in my face.
“Nauseous?” my voice rasps.
The reporter laughs at me like I mean it as a joke. I shoot Noah a glare, questioning if it’s too late to back out. My eyes dart between the car and the pit lane, estimating how quickly I can run before Noah catches up to me.
“It’s interesting Maya chose to come out with you instead of her brother today. Any thoughts on this, Noah?”
My palm drags down my face. Deep breaths.
“I can’t help that she wants to try out the track with me when she’s watched her brother drive for years. But there’s nothing like taking someone’s racetrack virginity.”
Pretty sure his response turned me on, and I’m halfway convinced I’m dating the devil in disguise.
He shoots me a wink. “We’re going to get going. See you later, guys.” He waves at the reporters like the natural he is.
Following his lead, I hop into the passenger’s side.
Noah’s eyes gleam. “You packed your camera, right?”
I pull the camera out of my purse. He takes it from my hands and sets it up on a conveniently placed camera mount.
“My heart may explode out of my chest. I might not make it through the whole thing.”
He chuckles. “You’ll be okay, we’re only going to go about one hundred and thirty to one hundred and fifty miles per hour. That’s not too bad. It’s our trust test, remember?”
I no longer feel bad for disgruntled coworkers who have to do trust falls during employee retreats. That has nothing on this cruel version.
I never did find out the recovery rate for having a heart attack at twenty-three. Regrets.
“Jesus take the wheel.” I do the sign of the cross before putting on my helmet.
“You may have called me God last night, but I’m the only one behind the wheel today.” The smug man fucking winks.
His hand finds the stick shift and we propel down the grid area. He laughs as we make it past the first turn, tires screeching against the pavement while he speeds up again.
“Damn, I didn’t hear you scream like that last night. Do I need to change my technique?”
“You perv! This is terrifying. Oh my God. How do you do this all the time? How is this even legal?” I’d slap his arm if I wasn’t plastered to the side of the car.
“I love it. Just relax and enjoy.” His voice does nothing to calm me.
“Never tell a woman to relax!” I scream again as we drift on another turn. It’s touch and go with my heart, stopping every time Noah turns the car before picking back up again as he races down the road.
“Who can ever be calm at a time like this? If they do, they’re certifiable.”
Another scream erupts from my mouth. I don’t have the chance to feel embarrassed, the loud shrieks pouring out of me with no control.
The engine purrs as Noah’s lead foot hits the accelerator. His hand does a bunch of shift changes, which are honestly kind of hot because his muscles strain and tense. I distract myself by staring at him in his element, a smile plastered on his face, beaming at my reactions. My screams stop long enough for me to check out how happy he looks.
He hits me with a megawatt grin. If my body wasn’t already in fight-or-flight mode, my heart rate would have sped up.
“Eyes on the road! Hello!” I snap my fingers and point at the pavement in front of us. He chuckles while he turns into another straight section, the car vrooming as he presses on the throttle.
“I could do this track in my sleep. It’s an easy one.”
“That’s great and all but I’d rather live to see tomorrow.” I take another deep breath.
He laughs as he checks me out. “Do you trust me yet?”
“I trust that you’re secretly a psycho. What kind of first date is this? Haven’t you ever seen an episode of The Bachelor? This date is not Chris Harrison approved!” I grip onto the side of the car for dear life. Those top handlebar things every car has? Yeah, I learn their true purpose, my knuckles whitening as I hold on with all my might.
Can he quit laughing at me?
“That’s not the answer I wanted to hear. I’ll have to step it up.”
That, friends, is exactly the type of thing no one asks for. It’s meme-worthy.
His hands turn nobs on the center console.
“Uh, what are you doing?” My stomach churns as my body bounces up and down, the car revolting against the high speeds Noah pushes it to. The death contraption continues to zoom past empty bleachers. Speakers sound off for the first time the entire trip, the robotic voice sending a chill down my spine.
Traction Control Disabled.
My head whips to face Noah, my helmet bouncing off the window. The movement jars me. Even I know the importance of traction control…it prevents the one thing Noah wants to do.
He shrugs, sealing our fate.
His hands turn the wheel, our car drifting across the road before spinning donuts. Tires squeal against the road. A cloud of smoke swirls around us from rubber burning, floating up into the sky along with my sanity.
“I trust you! I’ll never not trust you ever again. You’re the best driver ever. You’ll always keep me safe. Are you satisfied now?” I half laugh, half scream the words, sounding like someone who belongs in a psychotic thriller movie. There may even be a tear or two leaking from my eyes, but if Noah asks me, I’ll deny it.
He stops the donuts and we both end up breaking out in a fit of laughter. His hand grabs mine and brings it up to his lips for a kiss, my previous fear forgotten.
“To answer your question from before, yes I’ve seen The Bachelor. I took notes. This is the first of many for us, so I had to make it unforgettable.”
He hits me with a devilish grin before I flash him one of my own.
