Poles Apart

I’D NEVER SEEN SO MANY PEOPLE all in one place. Silverstone was enormous. The stand was filled with avid race fans. People shouted their favourite driver’s name, waved flags and homemade banners, and they wore novelty hats and those silly foam hands. The atmosphere was electric, and I could feel the boom of the crowd in the pit of my stomach every time the Mexican wave went around the seating stands.

We’d been a little late to arrive because we had to swing by Lucie’s to drop off Sasha for the day. We’d been here a little while now, though, sitting in the backroom while his team prepped him for the race and talked through strategies and plans. I chewed on my lip, watching everything with wide eyes, taking it all in and trying not to let the busyness of the place overwhelm me. They never really showed this part of it on television, so I had no idea of the volume of people who worked on Carson’s team.

Carson was already kitted out in his team hat and all-in-one leather jumpsuit, and I must admit, seeing it close up did funny things to my insides. I had an awful feeling it showed on my face because a couple of times, Carson caught me looking at his butt and sent me a sexy little ‘I know what you’re thinking’ smirk.

A small guy wearing a headset walked into the room and smiled at Carson. “You about ready to go down? Reporters are down near the paddock and want an interview,” he said, clipping his walkie-talkie on his belt. “I’ll take Emma up to the family area.”

Carson stood but shook his head. “Not yet. I want to show Emma around a little. Let her sit on my bike and stuff,” he answered.

The guy frowned, clearly not liking this idea at all. “There’s less than thirty minutes left until the start, Carson. You’ll have to do that another time.”

Carson grinned and reached down, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet. “There’s time. I just want to show her around. Five minutes, tops.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Carson squeezed my hand in warning so I immediately closed it. Clearly this was important to him if he was arguing against one of his team about it.

The guy looked at his watch as he shifted from one foot to the other. “Carson, I don’t—”

“There’s time,” Carson interjected, pulling me close to his side as he stepped around the guy and headed towards the door. “I’ll just be five minutes. Cover for me,” he called over his shoulder.

Once we were outside the little room, which served as the office headquarters for his team, Carson grinned at me. I smiled weakly in return. “You’re going to get in trouble. I don’t need a tour,” I said quietly.

“Well, maybe I want to give you one,” was his smart-alecky answer.

For the next few minutes, Carson walked around, pointing out people and telling me who they were. We went into some sort of workshop where they stored all the spare parts for his bike. After, we stepped out into the area Carson referred to as ‘the paddock’. The atmosphere was different out here; people were standing around and laughing, not serious and intense. A couple of TV camera people I recognised from watching the show were off to one side interviewing another driver. I smiled, pressing close to Carson, listening as he spoke so passionately while telling me about the track and why it was his favourite.

“Carson?”

We both turned at the sound of a high-pitched girlie voice. And, just like that, my happy mood sank. In front of me stood one of the MotoGP paddock girls I often saw Carson with before the race. Her ruby-red painted lips curved into a smile, exposing a row of brilliantly whitened, straight teeth. My shoulders unconsciously pulled back as a feeling of inadequacy washed over me. Compared to this beautiful, tall, skinny yet somehow still curvy girl, I looked like a troll.

“Hi, Siena, how are you?” Carson asked, immediately dropping my hand for the first time in ten minutes. As he stepped away from me toward the big-breasted, barely-clothed, model-like girl, jealous waves crashed over my head. I tried my best not to scowl at his back.

“I’m good. I missed you; you’ve not been in Dorset again all week,” she replied, smiling at him and flashing him her come-to-bed eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve been busy. Next week I’ll be back to normal.” He winked at her and my jealousy suddenly turned to anger.

This was it; this was the first time I was about to witness him getting it on with another girl – and he had the gall to do it right in front of me. A lump formed in my throat, but I refused to cry. My teeth gnashed together so tightly my jaw ached. All week, I’d fooled myself into thinking we were building something, that something was blossoming between us, that I stood a chance of winning his heart, or at the very least, his respect. But with one of her beautiful smiles, this girl had ruined it all and he was going to throw all that progress away for a quick thrill.

I needed to leave. I wasn’t going to just stand there and watch it. I couldn’t.

Not even bothering to tell him I was leaving, I decided to find my own way back to the little office area and then ask someone to direct me to the family area. After the race, I would tell Carson I was never coming to another of these fucking races ever again.

As I spun on my heel and marched back in the direction I came from, I heard Carson call my name. Ignoring him, I stomped back into the building and walked along the edge of the workshop, immediately regretting not paying much attention to Carson’s tour because I had no idea which door I had come through to get down here.

“Emma!” Carson called again behind me. “Where are you going?” he asked. “You’re not allowed to just wander around down here. You shouldn’t even be here really.”