Throttled (Dirty Air 1)

“You never know what could happen in the future. But I’m sure you have plenty of time to figure it out. F1 racers don’t retire until like forty years old. Basically, you’ll be ancient once you leave here. Okay, last one.”

Is that even what I want? To keep racing at the risk of not having a life to go back to once it’s all done? I don’t want to be like my dad, who parties with twenty-somethings on private yachts, cruising around by myself. The thought creeps me out.

“Best Noah Slade team radio?” My team radio videos on YouTube are hilarious. “If you look me up on the internet, you can find lots of videos of me cursing at the team and myself. A team radio is how Bandini and I communicate about race stats, car info, and problems. My personal favorite video is the British Grand Prix from 2014. Watch it if you haven’t seen it. You’ll be entertained. The pit crew forgot to connect my water pump and I was basically a cranky baby without a bottle for an hour.”

I glance at Maya. Her eyes look up at me and fill my chest with a warm feeling.

“Thank you so much for joining us, Noah. Those were the most googled questions people wanted answered about Noah so I decided to go straight to the source. This week I’ll have exclusive footage from the McCoy team, including interviews with Liam and Jax. Stay tuned. Subscribe if you haven’t already. See you next time!” She waves to her camera before shutting it off.

She looks like a natural, both gorgeous and confident. It’s cool she’s found something she can be passionate about. Especially if it keeps her entertained and coming back to all the races because I don’t mind these one-on-one interviews at all.

“You forgot one more question.” I don’t think as the words leave my mouth. It seems like the perfect chance to have her alone without any interruptions of the blonde-haired, green-eyed variety.

Maya stares up at me, confusion lining her face.

“Will Noah Slade ask Maya Alatorre on a date?” I flinch at my pathetic pick-up line.

Not exactly my best work. I blame it on being out of practice, not the way my heart races in my chest at the fear of her rejecting me.

“A date? You don’t date.” She messes around with her camera tripod.

My hand engulfs hers to stop her fidgeting. Her body tenses as I rub my thumb across her knuckles, something I noticed she liked during the few times I’ve done it.

“I want to try. What’s one date?”

“Uh, for someone who doesn’t ever date…everything.” She tugs on her hand, trying to free it, but I don’t let it go. Not until I get what I want.

“It’s one date, don’t be dramatic. I’m not asking for a forever… Are you scared?” I goad her. “We don’t need to put labels on anything. Let’s have fun.”

“Of course I’m not scared. You just want to have fun?” Her brows raise and her lips form a tight line.

Maybe she won’t be happy with no labels, even though most chicks I get with don’t mind. Or maybe fun was the wrong word to say because now she looks at me in a way I can’t read.

“Then go on a date with me. Tomorrow?” I can’t tell if she wants to shut me down.

“My brother can’t know. He would lock me up before killing you,” she sputters.

All right, she didn’t say no. I can work with it.

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him. We’re only having a good time together.” I want to tell her to stop making a big deal of this. Hasn’t she tried no strings attached? But she agrees, making it a win for me. If there is something I live by, it’s how there’s no time like the present.

I stride away, throwing a victorious grin over my shoulder.

19

Maya

“No way. I’m not getting on that thing.” I cross my two index fingers in front of me in an X. If only my mom could see me making responsible decisions. She’d be proud.

“Live a little.” Noah’s eyes gleam while mine narrow, not sharing his amused look. He looks eerie with a flickering light above our heads, foreshadowing this bad idea.

A shiny motorbike brings a frown to my face, the steel gray paint polished and sleek, like an alien spaceship. It should come with a warning label.

Hell, Noah should have a walking, talking warning sign.

We wage a battle of wills in the parking garage of the hotel we’re both staying at with Bandini. The garage makes the perfect place to meet up for our date since we can avoid the paparazzi and my brother. Just Noah, me, and a dimly lit lot. I don’t have my usual chaperones keeping me in check. Much to Sophie’s dismay earlier, I declined her invitation to third wheel our date. Appreciate her loyalty though.

“Come on. It’s not scary. I promise.”