Finish Line | Formula 1

1

Light poured through the window, shining over a mess of tangled limbs. Though the sun had been up for a couple of hours, two pairs of eyes struggled to open at the same time, feeling the golden daggers inside them like encrusted shards they couldn't peel out.

Amalia muttered a groan as she removed herself from the naked body next to her. She remembered anticipating her current headache while she drank last night. She'd let go of her caution. Downed the last shot —or the last one she remembered— with anger coursing through her veins.

What had she been so angry about?

A stab of pain hit her. Amalia rubbed her temples, then her eyes, willing them to adjust to the hotel room's brightness. Her head pounded like a jackhammer, mouth dry as sandpaper.

The male body next to hers wasn't a surprise. She had half-expected the night to end up like this, the only surprising bit was the blackout. It had been a while since the last time she drank with so much anger, but Amalia hadn't woken up with a stranger after it.

She shrugged those thoughts away, only to be replaced by another round of unpleasant ones.

Careless.

Amalia knew her alcohol tolerance very well, and yet she'd let go of her caution, the inhibition that only she knew was still inside her. She made a mental note to keep it in check and go through last night's events once the blurriness dissipated. Amalia knew she couldn't risk becoming what she made the world believe she was. Knew the spiral was dangerous, even though she'd always thought of herself smarter than to give in to it.

"Fuck, I think I'm still drunk," a husky sound emanated from the body next to her.

"What the—" Amalia hissed, her voice raspy, cracking with disbelief.

The familiar voice reverberated through her bones. A bittersweet purr. It almost made her snort. No matter how drunk, she knew she would never sleep with someone who sounded exactly like...

"WHAT THE FUCK!" She bolted upright in bed.

Asher.

Asher Rocha.

He jolted awake with her scream. Asher's eyes shot open as he sat up in a flash, eyes darting around before locking on her.

"WHAT THE—" A scream tore out of his throat.

The next moment, he was falling —legs tangled in the sheet, body crashing to the floor with a heavy thud as Amalia scrambled backward, clutching the sheet to her chest.

Asher groaned from the floor, a muffled curse spilling out of him. He popped his head up, dazed, hair sticking out in all directions and smudged lipstick all over his neck. With a swift movement, he snatched a pillow from the bed and covered his crotch.

Wide-eyed and disoriented, the unfamiliar hotel room and the man on the floor next to the bed finally snapped into view before Amalia's eyes.

Asher blinked up at her, then at himself. And then at her again. His senses must be fooling him, or so he thought, because there was absolutely no way in hell that the redhead in front of him was...

Amalia Rivas.

"No fucking way," his stomach turned. This can't be real.

Asher shook his head and dragged a hand over his face as Amalia stood still, reeling through last night's events and trying to make sense of the current situation. She couldn't move. Couldn't think. Last night blurred in her mind —glimpses of drinks, screams, wandering hands, but nothing made sense. Her heart was in her throat.

"Are you fucking kidding me," Asher spat out. Not as a question. Not even directed at Amalia. He seemed to be cursing the universe, if anything.

In a quick second, two pairs of hands began shaking violently as they pulled their clothes on.

"This is a fucking nightmare," Amalia snapped, furious as she yanked her dress over her head, mind reeling.

Of all men.

Asher Rocha.

"Amalia," Asher struggled to his feet, stumbling over his pants, pulling them on in a frenzy.

Unbelievable. A rush of anger ran through his spine. More at himself than anything. Amalia Rivas. He hadn't even said her name for her to answer. He'd said her name like a whip against his back. Like a punishment.

Her fingers fumbled through the nightstand as she grabbed her purse. This is not happening. She went through the list of items she had to retrieve before escaping. Her breath hitched, fast and shallow. Amalia snatched her white heels from the ground and headed for the door before turning to face Asher.

"Amalia," he groaned, this time wanting her to answer.

She winced at the synchronization. She'd turned a split second before he called. She hadn't turned around because he called. She wouldn't have turned if he'd called.

Stupid, stupid, stupid Asher Rocha.

Amalia swallowed hard, nausea rising. His thunderous eyes met her frowning gaze. The air was thick with anger, as if the two might lunge for a punch against the other while also battling the urge to be as far away from the other as possible.

Two magnets unaware of their charges.

Silence dropped between them. Tense. Angry. Suffocating. Their breathing was sharp, but neither of them moved. Both half-expecting the other to yell out some explanation, some indication of which of them had started it, or escalated it, or anything —only to realize neither of them remembered.

"This," she finally spoke, her voice low and venomous, "didn't happen."

Asher didn't even hesitate. "Damn right, it didn't," he snapped.

Without another word, Amalia grabbed her jacket and stormed out of the room, fists clenched, heart pounding.

Behind her, Asher stood frozen, just as furious, just as confused. Everything was wrong, but they had no time to figure out how or why they ended up in that bed.

They just knew one thing: it never happened.

* * *

hello hello sorry school is crazy i'm about to graduate i'm excited for this story i need to find a job i want to move countries i need to find my meds i want to run for president i want to switch careers i want to kiss someone i want to punch myself in the face i want to write for 50 consecutive hours and never pee

ANYWAYS

so excited

had to move some things around for the cover, trailer + stuff surprise but it's all still coming very very soon

hope you liiiiiiiiiiiike it