Racing Hearts

4. You Do?

     In a blur of camera flashes, cheering, and frantic waving, the black and white checkered flag waves triumphantly over my head as I pass underneath it, several car lengths ahead of the closest competitor. My heart races in my chest and my comm is flooded with ecstatic cheers of disbelief, igniting the realization that I just won the Daytona 500 as a rookie. I push out the net window and throw a hand out, fist raised in celebration.

     Before I can even begin to come down from the high of winning the race, I pull up at my pit stop and climb halfway out the window cheering. I'm met with much louder cheers and my crew rushing toward me, eager to celebrate our first victory. The other drivers pull up and around me, encouraging their pit crews to celebrate with us since it's not every day that a rookie wins the Daytona 500. It's only happened once before.

     Tony, Bruce, and Bucky jump down from the top of the pit booth.

     My pit crew grabs Bucky.

     They push him toward me.

     I take off my helmet, lifting it over my head.

     The pit shakes as the volume from the cheering skyrockets.

I'm all smiles as I push myself out of the car.

My feet hit the ground.

     I toss my helmet to Natasha and reach for Bucky.

     Cameras flash.

     Reporters try to push through the crowd.

     Video cameras focus on me.

     I don't notice any of the noise, any of the movement from the sea of people around me.

     All I see is a pair of ocean eyes looking back at me.

     Bucky.

     His hands find mine.

All I can feel is the rush of butterflies in my stomach and the racing of my heart in my chest.

     I pull him to me, my hands on his neck.

C'mere, babe.

     He smiles and moves closer to me.

I turn his hat around backwards.

He flashes a smile at me.

     I lean in and kiss him.

We did it, Buck.

     His lips meet mine, sealing our victory with the sweetest of kisses.

We won.

     The other crews and the fans in the stands and infield explode with raucous cheers. I almost forget that they're there, that we're literally surrounded, but then I come back to reality.

     Bucky and I pry our lips apart to look at each other. He smiles, his cheeks sunset pink and eyes full of stars. I can't help but smile wide and take his face in my hands, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Around us, our crew starts chanting "Rogers-Barnes." Within seconds, it spreads throughout the crowd and all the way up the stands to the press boxes and broadcasting booths.

We press our foreheads together and wrap our warms around each other. Neither of us were expecting this from the crowd.

"You did it, babe," he smiles breathlessly. "Your first win! And, it's the Daytona 500! You won, Stevie!"

I smile and shake my head a little as I say, "No, Buck. I didn't win anything."

The chanting fades, becoming excited chatter. We don't realize it, but every single microphone and camera within 100 feet of us is live and recording. It's not like we really care at this point, though, since we've already basically made out on live television.

"What do you mean?" He asks.

"We did it," I explain, "Our first win. We made history at the Daytona 500. We won."

"You're unbelievable," he laughs, smiling so bright that his nose scrunches up and his eyes crinkle. "Damn, I love you, Stevie. You know that?"

After being together for a year, I thought I'd know what to expect when I finally got to hear him say that he loves me, but I'm speechless.

"You do?" I ask in disbelief.

"Of course I do, doll," he beams as he runs his fingers through my hair and ruffles it up. "Do I need to say it again?"

"Please," I smile, a little too stunned the first time around to really appreciate it.

"Steven Grant Rogers, my best friend, boyfriend, and life partner for almost a whole year now, I love you."

My heart skips a dozen beats, stuttering over them like a Caddyshack golf cart over rumble strips.