Throttled (Dirty Air Series Book 1)

Noah preps for the final Prix race despite the crash last week, all smiles and jokes as the crew works in the garage. Such a badass. He landed the third position on the grid after a decent qualifying round.

Pit mechanics and engineers act as the backbone of a team, fixing any damage from Noah’s previous crash; the car looks brand new with not a dent in sight. Noah thanks the crew as his fingers graze the red hood.

Worst-case scenarios flash through my mind as I hang out with Santi for his last race. I clasp my fingers in front of me, my sneakers rocking back and forth against the concrete floor. Abu Dhabi. The final Grand Prix and home of the infamous crash between Noah and my brother. With a close Championship standing between Bandini and McCoy, it all comes down to this race.

Noah runs an unsteady hand through his hair while he talks to the engineers. Despite me asking him about his nervousness, he feigns indifference. He gives me a quick peck on the lips before he takes off with crew members toward the track.

My brother tugs me in for a good luck hug.

“Try not to crash into my boyfriend this time,” I mumble into his chest.

“I was planning on knocking Liam out. Seemed like a safer bet because that guy can’t hold a grudge to save his life.”

Our bodies shake from laughing. We break apart, and Santi hops into his car, waving at me as the crew pulls him away.

I hang out in pit row, preferring to be close instead of lost somewhere in the crowd. Earlier, Noah reserved Grandstand VIP tickets for my parents so they could experience a Prix like real fans. My heart swelled at the look of appreciation my parents offered him, both of them unaware of how much it means to Noah to have someone rooting for his team. Noah, a man denied of love and affection, craves my family’s acceptance more than anything.

Race cars zipping down the track do little to calm me. Noah’s car speeds by, a red blur with an engine reverberating off the walls. McCoy cars follow behind, creating a vortex of sound and dirty air.

Noah deserves the World Championship, and honestly, I want him to win, hoping it can help us overcome these worries.

Sorry, Santi. I’m loyal to my boyfriend, too.

A few cars crash throughout the laps. One of the drivers from Albrecht can’t catch a break this season, leaving behind a crumpled mess of a car after turn three.

Cars lap around the track. Sports announcers talk about Noah’s swift recovery after his tragic loss in Brazil, his racing a testament to his will to win. My heart taps against my chest, unrelenting during the first few laps. No hiccups yet. I take my first steady breaths once Noah makes it through his first ten laps with no issues.

Round and round cars go, careening through the track. Racers complete laps in less than two minutes. The Prix rankings are close, with Bandini seconds away from McCoy, Santi trailing behind Noah with Liam in the lead. Noah’s engine roars as he pulls in for a pit stop to get new tires. His last one for this season. He takes off again, spitting himself back out onto the track, eating up any time lost.

Noah completes his forty-fourth lap, only eleven circuits left between him and the winter break. His car hangs behind Liam, putting him in second place. He can’t win the World Championship if he keeps the runner-up position.

His car jerks, the movement unfamiliar. Like he hesitates. Noah’s reputation for overtaking cars is missing, his usual swagger on the racetrack not coming out.

“Maya, I need you to get over here.” Sophie’s dad waves me over.

I don’t hide my surprise when he hands me the headset that communicates with Noah. He presses the mute button, taking a deep inhale while rubbing his temple. His intense green eyes bore into mine.

“Noah wants to talk to you. The nerves got to him, and he thinks you can calm him down. Help him out. His place in the Championship rests on you working with him. If he doesn’t get over this, he may never come back to race because fears like this can ruin a career.”

Okay, no pressure. Understatement of the year. But I don’t have a second to linger on it. I grab the headphones, situate the microphone, and unmute myself.

“Hi, this is Maya. Do you copy?” I try to imitate team radio videos that Noah and I have watched online.

Noah’s chuckle sounds through the headphones. “Hi, this is Noah. I copy.”

“Well, I’m going to be shit at this job. But hold on. There’s a red car behind you moving pretty fast. There’s one car in front of you also going exceptionally fast. About three clicks away.”

“You’re nailing it. Keep it up. Not sure what three clicks means but…”

I laugh into the mic. Can’t wait for sports announcers to listen in and comment on our conversation.

Wanting privacy from the crew, I walk up to the railing that overlooks pit row. A television hanging above offers an overhead view of the track. Cars squeal in the distance. Useless lights blink all over the computer screen, offering me nothing but confusion.

“Hmm, there’s an amazing driver with the number twenty-eight on his car. But he won’t overtake the driver in front of him. What’s going on?”

Noah makes it past another lap. He holds back, not acting aggressive enough to win the whole thing.

“Tell me more about this great driver. I don’t know if I see him out here.” His voice strains.

My heart dips at the thought of him panicking in the middle of a race. “They say Noah Slade’s basically the best. Likes to break records, on the racetrack and in the bedroom. You gotta be careful with him.”

He lets out a hoarse laugh.

“This is going to be a terrible team radio video. I’ll end up on YouTube, perdóname Mami y Papi. Ignore this.”

Noah speeds up after turning. Good.

“So anyway, please stop distracting me. And quit the seductive laughs too. Did you know this guy agreed to help the girl grow her vlog? He may be part of the reason she has over a million subscribers now. But I don’t think the guy knows he’s stuck with her. Stage-five clinger. She’s already signed a contract with the team to come to the races next year since they want her to film more behind the scenes action to promote the brand. A whole ordeal.”

His voice expresses his surprise. “You didn’t tell me. Congrats, Maya. I’m so proud of you; I knew you could do it. Bandini is lucky to have you working on social media.”

“Sh. This story isn’t about me.” I laugh at his slip up before continuing. “Pretty crazy. Imagine the girl’s surprise that number twenty-eight doesn’t want to drive faster. Take more risks. He took a chance on their relationship, and it all panned out. I wonder if he could do the same thing today?” I imagine fans commenting about how cliché I am on our video. Oh well, I won’t be crying myself to sleep. At least not in that way.

Noah’s deep breathing and gear changes ring through the radio. The roar of the engine excites me. His car accelerates, pushing closer to Liam’s, closing the gap between McCoy and Bandini.

“Pretty sure the girl told the guy that she doesn’t date losers. But I can’t be too sure about that one because I haven’t asked her. But you can never put it past these racing fans, all fun and games until the guy doesn’t end up on the podium. I think girls have a thing for trophies and race suits—a combo deal.”

Noah chuckles into the mic. With only a few laps left to overtake Liam, the Championship is starting to slip from Noah’s fingers.

“But that’s a lie. Because this girl loves the guy. Like the ‘forever and always’ type of love. The ‘kids playing around outside while the parents have a quickie upstairs’ kind of love. Have you heard of that type?”

He stays silent. His rhythmic breathing and the hum of the engine encourage me to continue.

“It’s pretty insane. Can you imagine that kind of love? I can because I experience it. The story doesn’t end with a happily-ever-after because it starts with it. Because they have the rest of their lives to finish their story. Crazy, huh?”

Noah speeds up at a turn, pushing his car to the limit, sparks flying from his rear wing. He overtakes Liam in one of the last corners.

“Great job, babe! That was an amazing one. I knew you could do it.”

“Maya?” his voice rasps.

“Yup?”

“Keep talking. I love hearing your voice.”

Happy to oblige.