Throttled (Dirty Air 1)

I bolt out of my hotel room, desperate to make it to my qualifier on time.

I’ve never been so damn irresponsible in my life.

It doesn’t shock me when my day goes from bad to the fucking worst. My qualifier starts out as a shitshow. I rush to get my race suit on and chug a gallon of water to make sure I don’t pass out behind the wheel under the hot conditions. Sophie’s dad looks pissed as fuck about my tardiness, glaring at me as I swallow down a granola bar.

He fails to hide his distaste. “You look like shit. You’re not a young kid anymore, staying up late to party. I expect this from anyone but you.” His sneer tells me everything. James Mitchell isn’t one to fuck around with because he has balls bigger than King Kong. His green eyes stare down at me while he runs an agitated hand across his face. His gray hair remains in place, unlike mine standing up in different directions, the waves untamed from my hands.

“I’m extremely sorry; this will never happen again.” No apologies can erase my terrible decisions.

I trip over my feet while rushing to my car. I’m a hot, crappy mess and fuck if it isn’t humbling. Embarrassed doesn’t begin to describe how I feel. Bandini mechanics look down at me, unsure how to help, as I clamber into my car. Sweat clings to my chest before the engine starts up, a shitty omen for my fuck-tastic day.

The beginning of my qualifier goes okay as my car takes down the first straightaway. That is until I make it past my first turn. Bile creeps up my throat during most of the turns after, the curves of the track not faring well with the alcohol seeping from my pores. I spend all my mental energy on not blowing chunks inside my helmet because I’d never live that down.

My nasty hangover doesn’t pair nicely with my car going two hundred miles an hour round and round the track. The qualifier performance is sloppy and unprofessional. The usual hum of the engine fills me with dread, guilt eating away at me as I think about Maya and how she might feel if she heard about my night.

Sweat trickles down my back, soaking the material of my fireproof gear as I careen across the track. Fans watch the worst display of my entire racing career.

I rush out of my car once the qualifier finishes. My body revolts against me as I throw up twice near a patch of grass close to the pit area, the acidic taste making me nauseous all over again. All of this happens while a local camera crew films me. Somehow, I find enough self-control to not flip them off, instead choosing to give a thumbs up to the camera while I hunch over.

My car places fourteenth for the race. Fucking fourteenth. I haven’t had such an embarrassing placement since I started out in F1, and I don’t know if I’ll live this one down.

The only small blessing from today is how I don’t have to attend the press conference meant exclusively for the top three racers. I guess sucking comes with benefits.

Since Santi has the pole position, he’ll be distracted. I need to find Maya and apologize for everything. Like for taking her out on a date and fucking another girl in the same day. Even if she’s disinterested in hooking up with me, it’s wrong.

I spot Sophie and Maya talking with Liam and Jax on the main road near all the hospitality suites. A cold feeling creeps its way up my spine at the sight of Jax pulling her in for a hug. It shouldn’t upset me but shit it stings to see her wrapping her arms around him and laughing, unaware of how he got a blowjob at the table last night from a random chick.

I don’t have a right to feel jealous since I can’t give her what she wants. But I can’t control it; my fists clench at the sight of them, envy whirling inside of me like toxic air.

Maya’s eyes catch mine. The smile she had before slips from her face, and it pisses me off how I’ve turned her mood sour in two seconds flat.

I stroll up to the guys, keeping it casual even though I barely have it together inside.

“Shit luck today, bro.” Liam doesn’t look the least bit phased from last night. Was I the only one who got seriously fucked up? Come to think of it, he was sober as hell. I don’t even think he blinked at any other girls who came onto us. Shit.

“Never going out the night before a qualifier again. That was a terrible idea, man.” Jax pats my shoulder as he throws me under the bus.

Fuck you very much, Jax.

“You guys look like you had quite the night. Ballsy move before a qualifier.” Sophie’s narrowed eyes glare into mine.

“Mm, that’s why my brother is the best. He puts the team first.” Maya’s polite smile doesn’t reach her flat eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it already. You adore Santiago. At least pretend you want us to do well too.” Liam knocks Maya’s hat off her head and offers her a shrug. She laughs at him. I want to record the sound for the bad days, like today, because I’m the biggest idiot.

“We better get going. Girls’ day and all.” Sophie links her arm in Maya’s. They head off after saying their goodbyes with Maya ignoring me. It fucking sucks.

“Bro, you got smashed last night. You wouldn’t shut up about her.” Liam nods his head in the direction Maya left in.

Jax shakes his head. “It was a sad sight until you took that girl home. You even called her Maya once, but she shrugged it off. What was her name? Beatrice?”

Thank you, Jax, for bringing up the last thing I want to think about. I flip him off.

“She was hot. You always get the good ladies.” Liam’s arms cross against his chest.

“I’m surprised she even went home with him. He kept talking about Maya rejecting him, how she doesn’t want a playboy like him.” Jax chuckles to himself.

“Okay, guys, I get it. It was a pathetic night. Can we not bring it up anymore? Like ever.” My clipped voice matches my declining patience.