When I first started karting, I loved the pre-race jitters. I lived for the adrenaline high before a race, the buzz of the crowd fueling me. The chemical rush coursing through my body fed my addiction to adrenaline.
Now, I look at my shaky hands with fear and hesitation. Not wanting to freak out during a random interview, I grab my bottle of pills from my race day bag. After last night’s episode in front of my friends, I need to be more careful with the amount I take at one time. But after yesterday’s call with my dad, I felt the urge to make everything in my head turn off for the night.
Good fucking work that did. Guilt already consumed me this morning after reading Liam’s text offering to listen if I needed someone to talk to. As appreciative as I am for Liam, I talk enough to Tom as it is.
I unscrew the cap and pour the pills out in my hand. My body stiffens at the sight of multiple folded pieces of purple paper mixed with the pills.
I pour the rest of the bottle’s contents on the coffee table of my suite. After staring at the square papers for a few moments, I pluck one from the group, curious about what it says. Delicate cursive writing I recognize as Elena’s covers the paper.
Save a Xanax, buy a puppy. It’ll make you happier in the long run.
I don’t know why the ridiculous statement draws a laugh from me. Interested in seeing what else Elena wrote, I grab another.
If I swap your Xans for Tic-Tacs, would you notice?
I grab the rest, barely hiding my shit-eating grin as I unfold each one.
Hugs, not drugs. Seriously, this is your free hugs voucher.
If you skip the pills, I’ll offer you one activity of your choice.
One ‘get out of a gala free’ coupon if you skip the pill.
Pills are so 80s. You are way too cool to be doing something so out of style.
Free movie night on me, dinner included, if you throw the pill away.
One free lesson of Spanish dirty talk if you don’t take the pill.
I never expected something simple like this to put me at ease. Elena, not even present in the room, fills my chest with something warm.
Elena didn’t have to do this. She could’ve let me take my pills, as long as I’m on my best behavior. I thought that was all she cared about, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe her wanting to help me is more than a quick way to make money.
I place the pills and pieces of paper back in the bottle. Some switch inside of me flips as I save the one I want to use once the race is over.
I want to change. Not because McCoy wants me to or because everyone keeps judging me. I want to change because someone who has every reason to walk away refuses to leave my side.
And this is how I come to the realization that I need to save myself.
“This is what you want to use your activity on? Really?” Elena eyes the purple piece of paper she wrote. I start the engine of my McCoy Z-Wagon SUV and pull out of the hotel’s parking lot.
“Yup. Type in your address.” I hand her my phone.
Turns out saving myself includes facing some of my fears about Elena. The first step in my plan is to spend more time with her while actively trying harder to not be a dick. She deserves better from me after everything she helps me with.
“I won’t lie, I thought you’d choose a more fun thing to do on your day off before practice rounds tomorrow.”
“And miss out on seeing your exclusive snow globes? Never.” I keep my eyes forward, ignoring the pull I have to look at Elena.
Okay, I want to see snow globes and get Elena away from the F1 scene for an hour or two. I never pretended I wasn’t a selfish shit.
“I’m totally going to regret showing you these. I know it.” She hands me back my phone with her address typed in the GPS application.
I drive us to her small flat located on the outskirts of Monaco. The older apartment building looks much different than my lavish penthouse located by the coast.
“This is your flat?” I stare at the run-down building looking about one wind gust away from toppling over.
“Yes. I know it may not be what you’re used to, but not all of us can afford a high-rise apartment with personal valet service.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.” Fuck, I didn’t realize how vastly different our lives were until now. She makes little comments here and there, but it didn’t fully hit me until this moment.
She grabs her keys from her purse. “It’s fine. I think it’s homey.”
It’s shit, that’s what it is.
Elena and I walk up the stairs to the entrance of her building. I follow her as she makes a sharp turn down a small hallway with too many miscellaneous stains for comfort. “You live on the first floor? Isn’t that kind of dangerous?”
“Dangerous?” She looks back at me with her brows raised.
“Yes. You know, not safe from burglars and stuff.” I struggle to deny the concern laced in my voice.
Elena’s back straightens as she fiddles with her keys. “Please, I grew up in Mexico. A staircase isn’t going to protect me from the bad people out there.” She opens the door to her flat.
I check out the rusty deadbolt lock before following her inside. “But you live alone. That’s different.”
What is wrong with me, getting all concerned and shit?
Elena seems to share the same thought, with her eyebrows pinching together as she looks at me with wide eyes. “I’ve lived on my own here for two years. I think I can handle it.”
“Do you go back home often? To Mexico, that is?”
She clears her throat. “That’s not home anymore.”
Okay, way to fuck this up, Jax. “So, show me the goods.”
Smooth. Ten out of ten transition.
I’m screwed. This plan is taking a turn for the worst.
Elena gives me the quickest tour known to man, seeing as her flat is the size of my walk-in closet back in London. She leads me toward the shelf near the window housing her snow globes.
“Whoa.” I stand eye to eye with a snow globe of two sugar skulls. It’s not exactly what I’d expect from someone like her.
“Sugar skulls represent departed souls.” She grabs the snow globe.
“If they’re departed, why is it colorful?”
“Because in my culture, death shouldn’t be gloomy and gray. It’s supposed to be a time of celebration. I think it’s easier said than done, though, because it’s hard as hell to celebrate something that causes pain.” Elena shakes the snow globe. Colorful glitter falls down over the set of skulls. Her eyes become cloudy as she places it back on the shelf.
“Does that one play music?”
“No.” She moves onto another. “This one I bought after Elías got me a job with F1. It was one of the best days ever. I was so excited, I ended up buying the first snow globe I saw, which wasn’t for Elías’s team.” Her smile reaches her eyes.
“I’ll look past the fact that you bought a Bandini snow globe because it’s pretty cool.” I check out the red Bandini car centered in the middle of a fake F1 track, surrounded by fallen glitter.
Elena laughs as she picks it up and shakes it. “Well, I think you’ll appreciate this part.” Her small fingers twist the metal knob on the bottom of the globe, and the F1 theme song plays. It’s a light melody compared to the usual dramatic one sports channels play on the telly.
Elena held true to her fact, with each snow globe serving a unique purpose. There are a variety of snow globes, ranging from different sizes to themes. She even has one she bought after she graduated from university, with a fake diploma and a small photo of Elena inside of it. Her beaming smile shows her pride.
“I never graduated from uni. Hell, I never even went.” I brush my thumb across the glass sphere.
“There’s nothing wrong with that. You were driving in what, like Formula 3?”
“F2, but who’s checking.” I flash her a cocky grin.
“That’s why I believe you can win another Championship again. You have a natural talent for racing; you only need to get out of your mental fog to do it.”
“Your optimism is cute.”
“Today, you did it. You didn’t take your pill. Instead, you’re out here with me.” Elena places the snow globe back on the shelf.
She shows me a couple of others. Her passion and happiness about her greatest moments spreads to me. Hanging around her fills me with a warmth equivalent of laying out in the sun.
Gratitude about her vulnerability makes me stupid. “Thanks for sharing this part of you.”
Her eyes wander, not landing anywhere in particular. “I thought you’d choose to go somewhere for your activity. Like I don’t know, do something guyish. I’m surprised you asked to see this collection. It’s tiny.”
“I couldn’t resist the temptation to learn more about your secret.”
“Why?”
My hands tremble at the urge to be honest with her. “Because even though I tell myself daily you don’t need someone as fucked up as me around you, I can’t resist wanting more from you than I should.” Something pushes me to cup her cheek. The same something in me that wants to pull her close and press my lips against hers.
She looks at me with her eyes wide and captivating. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know.” I lean in closer, taking in a deep breath of her shampoo. I’m addicted to the way her eyes darken as they scan my face before lingering on my lips.
She shuts her eyes as my thumb grazes her cheek. “What happened to no touching? It’s a rule.”
Touching her sparks a gush of possessiveness inside of me.
“Be a rule-breaker with me.” I close the gap between us as one hand goes around her neck, pulling her in. She gasps as our lips touch.
I keep it soft and innocent, unsure how she’ll react. Instead of pushing me away, her fingers grip the fabric of my shirt, tugging me closer.
Our kiss is nothing I’m used to—all sweet and soft. I want to apologize for forgetting our first kiss because I was a drunk arsehole. To apologize for putting her through shit in an effort to keep her far away. It’s a shock to my system when her tongue traces the seam of my mouth before she bites down on my bottom lip. My body reacts like never before, a tingle creeping up my spine.
A growling noise makes its way up my throat. I break away. “So that’s how it’s going to be? I’m trying to be nice here.”
Her eyes have a rare lightness toward me I’ve never seen before. “Who would’ve thought the guy famous for so many naughty things would try to be nice?”
“You’re fucking around with someone who won’t take your taunts lightly.”
“If it’s as light as your kisses, I think I’ll survive.” She presses a palm to her chest and smiles at me.
I shut her up with a punishing kiss. My tongue lashes out against hers, not letting her off easy, wanting to own her. To show her our connection and to make her imagine my tongue in other places. Licking, teasing, taunting. Elena melts into my body, giving into me.
It’s intoxicating, the feel of her against me. She gives as good as she takes. My skin heats with awareness from her running her hands across my straining arms. I must have drunk my weight in alcohol at the club to not remember kissing her. I’d kick myself all over again for making such a stupid decision because this shit is memorable.
Kissing her tastes like the sweetest kind of destruction. She brings my body to life by her touch, a jolt of energy shooting down my body. My dick throbs in my jeans as she runs her tongue along my lower lip. I press my hips into hers, showing her how much I want her. Desire makes my head cloudy.
She breaks away from the kiss before stepping away. Her fingers brush across her swollen lips, drawing my attention toward the damage I caused. “I don’t think that should happen again.”
“Why not?” I step toward her.
She steps back again. “We work together. There’s no need to complicate things.”
“Trust me when I say that kissing you is the least complicated thing about my life right now.”
Her eyes flash with something I recognize as pity. “You’re not in a good place.”
“I’m tired of living like that.” And I’m tired of letting every single day get bogged down by my anxiety.
“I think that’s a great first step, but that doesn’t mean we should do what we just did again.”
“Are you going to act like it never happened?” I fist my hands together.
“Sure, seeing as we did so well with the first one.” She turns to grab her purse off the kitchen counter.
Anger bubbles inside of me at her nonchalance. I’d be insulted and questioning my skills if it weren’t for the way she pressed her body against mine, practically begging for more. “What if I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen?” I blurt out.
Her shoulders drop as she sighs. “I’m not going to ruin your recovery over something like lust. You need stability, and something between us would be anything but.”
Even I know that’s true. I’m trying to get better and fight with the anxiety holding me back while she wants to build her business through helping me. And if I learned anything from my friends, it’s how wherever there’s lust like this, love is a risky side effect.
I hate how Elena is right. I hate it so much that I stay silent for the entire drive back to the hotel.
My anxiety wins again, fucking up my chance at something good. Elena and I wouldn’t be steady, but not for the reasons she thinks. Relationships—even the physical kind—need a basic level of trust.
While some people have solid foundations built to withstand life’s hardships, mine is the equivalent of a house of cards—susceptible to collapsing from the slightest change.
