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After being dumped, Isla Morris makes a pact with her ex's biggest competition, F1 driver Matthew Carr, to get inside Lucas's head.
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Isla Morris is dating the world's best F1 racer - at least, she w...
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Matthew didn't see Lucas for most of the morning.
He spent the morning on edge. Matthew couldn't concentrate on stretching, or meeting with sponsors. He glanced over his shoulder as he signed autographs. He blanked on a reporter's name. Normally, a reprieve from Saint Lucas was a godsend, but today, Matthew was itching to see him.
And possibly smash his face up some more.
Finally, Matthew found Lucas in the garage.
The other boy was leaning against his car, already dressed in his red Ferrari suit, angrily drinking Gatorade. Matthew hadn't been aware that one could angrily drink Gatorade, but that was what Lucas was doing. Loudly. He was also, Matthew noted, sporting a large purple bruise over his left eye.
Good.
The bastard deserved it.
"Carr," Lucas said, not looking up. "How's your hand feeling?"
"Justified." Matthew smiled. "How's the face?"
"Still prettier than yours."
"Strange," Matthew said cheerfully. "Your ex-girlfriend doesn't seem to think so."
It was a low blow. Matthew knew it. He felt guilty about bringing Isla into it — mostly because she would have disapproved — but he was also pissed off and tempted to slam the nearest wrench over Walsh's head.
He still might.
"Ready, boys?" a voice called.
They both turned. Alek strolled towards them, a headset looped around his neck. He wasn't smiling, but then again, Alek never smiled. Their Team Manager was allergic to anything involving cheer.
"What happened to your face, Walsh?" Alek barked.
"Fell down the stairs," Lucas grunted.
Matthew looked at him sharply. It wasn't like Lucas to lie. It was even less like Lucas to lie to protect Matthew.
Something was off.
"Yikes." Alek whistled. "Tough luck." He clapped him on the back. "Just make sure you can see out of your other one, yeah?"
From there, things moved quickly.
Cars were pushed out of garages. Drivers suited up. And then Matthew was sitting in his bright red Ferrari, staring up at the chequered flag. He'd placed second during qualifying, so he was right behind Lucas. Again.
He caught sight of Cedro a few cars over. The Italian shook his head. Behave today, Cedro mouthed.
Matthew grinned and put on his helmet.
Cars started. Engines growled. Lights flickered ahead, blinking out one-by-one. A familiar sense of calm settled over Matthew, adrenaline so raw that it felt like peace. His foot moved to the gas automatically.
