Chapter 82: The Race

< Shirley >
I was taking deep breaths to calm my nerves down as I was already wearing my racing suit. While making my way to the garage, where my racing car was, I bumped into Aiden Maxwell, Dylan's competitor—now my competitor as well.
"Who could have thought I would live to see the day when a woman is participating in an F1 race?" he mocked, his voice filled with malice.
The thought of training under this guy did cross my mind once when I was pursuing Dylan, but his rotten attitude and stone-age mentality of 'women-are-meant-to-stay-at-home-and-cook' made me shrug that thought off.
"Well, unfortunately, you are still living," I replied and rolled my eyes.
"Now that remark reminds me of Lewiston," Aiden chortled. That was because Dylan's sarcasm did rub off me.
"Aren't you too happy that Dylan isn't participating?" I retorted.
"As if that guy needs to. He can get direct access to the International championship," he huffed, his jealousy towards Dylan clearly evident. "But this time, I am not letting him be the representative of the US."
As if you can, the words were at the tip of my tongue, but I didn't utter them. From what I learned, it was never good to look down on anyone because everyone trained as hard as I did, if not more.
"Best of luck, then." I flashed him a smile before making my way to the garage.
When I reached the garage, my sponsors gave me a few words of encouragement while the helpers adjusted my suit and balaclavas, which is to protect my head in the event of a fire. I put on the special earplugs to prevent my hearing from being damaged by the deafening noise of Formula One engines—which was easily over a Motorhead concert or a jet taking off.
I finally sat in my seat in the Scuderia Ferrari after putting on my helmet.
Even though my heart felt like it would jump right out of my ribcage any moment, I still tried my best to focus—losing focus in the middle of the race was equal to losing the race as well. Yet, I felt the taste of bile in my mouth as the urge to throw up escalated in my body.
I drove the formula one car to the racing track before the start line. Since I managed to come second in the qualifying session, I was in the very first row with Aiden Maxwell, in his Red Bull racing car, beside me.
I remembered Dylan's advice for the last time before flushing away all the other things in the trash bin of my brain—the urge to throw up could wait. I kept my mind clean and focused my attention on the red lights that were yet to illuminate.
At that moment, the adrenaline rushed in. The feeling of being alone, even though there were thousands of eyes watching me. It was all about me and my car—nothing else mattered. There was this certain excitement as well. I could feel the blood in my veins boiling as determination burned through me.
My hands were in their place, my eyes on the lights. Maintaining the lead from the first was my target. Let it slip, and victory would slip by. But the victory wasn't the thing that should be on my mind; it was all about the focus on the road ahead of me.
I gripped the steering wheel and kept my feet on the accelerator just before the final light was about to illuminate. As soon as the tenth signal lit up, my first official racing journey began.
___
Only three more laps were left to go, and the results of the race would be decided. I was in lead at that moment, although I struggled to keep the lead owing to Aiden trying to overtake constantly.
More than an hour had passed, but I felt it was only a minute ago that I started the race.
Right now, Aiden's Red Bull was just at a car's length from mine; I was in a challenging position.
I needed to change my tire to a soft one for the victory, but that meant wasting a few seconds. Well, that was okay. I could catch up. Otherwise, my car would start vibrating due to the lock-ups, I pulled earlier on, and the flat spot in one of the front tires—which might lead to an accident.
I finished the 38th lap. I over-steered a little bit, letting Aiden get ahead of me. I stopped for a brief moment—every second there felt like an eternity—letting the crew members change my ultra tire to a soft one. With that, I begin my chase for the lead once again.
Tension started building up inside me. Only two laps were left, and I wasn't on the lead at the most crucial moment. However, it had been a breeze to remain in the top two leads with the other eighteen racing cars trailing behind.
I could feel the sweat beads rolling down my neck in anticipation.
I managed to catch up with the Red Bull ahead of me in sector two—the trickiest sector out of the three sectors on the track. Sector two was the most troublesome with a lot of turns but also it gave more chances to take the lead.
I decided to go out of the in-line race track, managing to get closer to Aiden. I pulled the gear to seven and increased my speed. I was about to pull ahead of the Red Bull; just then there was a vibration in my back tire. I gritted my teeth as it was Aiden's car that clashed with mine to slow me down—yes, it wasn't a foul because it would be seen as an accident.
I was so mad at that instant—I wanted to shoot that bastard—causing me to lose my focus a little bit. But I had forgotten—karma was a bigger bitch than I would ever need to be.
Aiden forgot to touch the apex of the next turning point, resulting in him getting a yellow card of ten seconds. Guess what happened after that?
I completed the final lap first, which meant...
I fucking won!
I pulled a lock-up, stopping the car completely. The crew members came to help me out. When I opened the helmet and took off my earplugs, that's when I heard the cry of joys and cheers from the crowd of people from the stadium—and it was for me. What could be more accomplishing than that?
"One of the very first women to have ever won a Formula One race! It is definitely a world record!" I heard the commenter holler in excitement as the crowd roared with him.
The feeling of victory and accomplishment overwhelmed me. Tears threatened to fall from my eyes, yet I held them back. I had achieved the first step of my dream.
Even though my vision was blurred, my eyes only searched for one person amongst the crowd—but he was not there. Disappointment hit me like a bucket of cold water. I felt like a child who lost her mother in a crowd—the horrifying terror I felt.
Before I could go look for Dylan, I was taken for weight measurement. Apparently, the race drivers can lose two to four kilos of weight after an F1 race. Also, my Scuderia Ferrari's weight was measured; if there were any problems with the weight, I could get disqualified, letting the prick Aiden get the title of 'winner'. Fortunately, the weight of my car was fine, so was my own weight.
After taking off my racing suit, I was angrily making my way over to the participants' room, where I left my cell phone. I was gonna phone that jerk I called my boyfriend. The award ceremony could wait.
How dare Dylan not be present when my dream came true?
He was the one I wanted to be there the most, yet he dared betray me. I could swear there was black smoke coming out of my ears like a train steam locomotive.
I was storming through the corridor when I heard the familiar deep voice called out my name with a tint of tease present in his voice, "Shirley."
I raised my index finger in accusation and turned on my heels to give an earful to that guy. I was so sure that I was gonna strangle him. But before I could do that, I was lifted off the ground. I let out a yelp and reflexively clutched onto his broad shoulders as he twirled me around while shouting, "Congratulations!"
"Dylan!" I squeaked, hitting his chest angrily. "Why—" I was cut off as Dylan pressed his lips against mine like a tease but fiery and passionate, somewhat demanding.
I wanted to pull away before I lost myself to him but I couldn't seem to. In that minty moment, my senses had been seduced and I could no longer think straight as I melted into the kiss.
I locked my knees around his waist as he pulled me closer. I hadn't realized when tears started to roll down my cheeks until I tasted the salty liquid in my mouth, nor did Dylan.
"Why are you crying?" he asked, a cute frown creased across his forehead.
Looking into his grey eyes, a sob escaped my throat. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my head in his neck, releasing all the anxiety that had built up inside me.
"I won, Dylan. I won," I let out, choking on my own words, my voice tattered.
"Yes, indeed. You did win." I could feel him smiling. "You made me so proud, Shirley." He didn't know how much those words meant to me, for how long I had waited to hear those, to make him proud—or probably he did know, that's why he said it.
Dylan started walking forward, while I was clinging onto him like a baby in his arms. "Why didn't I see you when I came out of the car?" I whined.
"Idiot, they don't allow outsiders on the race tracks," Dylan rebuked. But there was something in his tone that told me he was lying, yet I didn't bother asking anymore. Probably I was too afraid to know the truth.
Reaching an isolated place, Dylan made me sit on a bench. As he was wiping my tears, a question that I had been dying to ask occurred to me.
Dylan had completed his share of the deal we had—he made me win. Now, it was my turn to complete my part. "Dylan, what is the job that you want me to do for you? You can tell me now," I mumbled.
The small smile he had on dropped as a dark shadow fell over his face. He lowered his head as if he was ashamed of something. I raised my eyebrows in suspicion.
"The— there are some documents that I— I want you to steal for me," Dylan stuttered.
"That's it?" I asked for confirmation, and he nodded with a smile. I was a bit surprised.
Dylan wanted me to do such a mediocre job? I actually thought it was something more grave.
I started laughing as I lunged my hands with his and rested my head on his shoulder, saying, "That's a relief. I initially thought you wanted me to kill someone for you."
I felt him flinch after I said those words as if they were true.
"Did you really..." I trailed off in a cautious voice, not bothering to complete my sentence.
"Of course not. That's just ridiculous," he laughed it off.
I hummed in response. I got the hint that killing was something he had on his mind when we first made the deal. But it didn't matter to me.
What his past self wanted, that was least of my concerns. What his present self wanted was what mattered, and I knew that he wanted to stay with me and that he didn't want me to commit any severe crimes for his sake.
Even so, I couldn't help but wonder— who was it that Dylan wanted me to kill for him?
"Setting that aside, I have another request," Dylan added.
"What is it?"
"Shirley, I want to go to your house. I would like to meet your parents." The words were so casual and sincere—one might feel like that's something a good boyfriend would say, and I thought the same. Therefore, a smile bloomed on my face.
Little did I know, it would become the biggest regret of my life.