Adrenaline

30 | cardiac arrest

"He started from pole, led every lap, secured fastest lap ahead of his teammate. Brendon Ellis crosses the finish line for his first win in Monaco and first ever grand slam!"

I clutch the lanyard hanging around my neck and struggle to stand on my toes so I can see above their heads. Luckily not all of the Windsor crew is tall, and I manage to find an opening as Brendon's car pulls in.

After stopping in front of a first-place sign, Brendon climbs out and stands with one foot on either side of the halo. He pounds his fist against his chest and raises both arms in the air.

With the nostalgia and history of Formula One in Monaco, winning this Grand Prix brings a unique sense of pride, and a tangible energy scorches through the track.

I ease toward the front of the barrier with help from Windsor mechanics in time to watch Brendon to throw himself at the first Windsor crew members he can get his hands on. I cup my hands around my mouth and scream his name.

As soon as my voice cuts through the chaos, he pivots in my direction.

It's Brendon. My Brendon. My Brendon who sits with me under a flurry of snow and promises we have time. The Brendon who watches me fall apart and somehow stitches me back up again.

Maybe I don't fully know quite yet what I want. If I'm ready to try something new or still floundering weightlessly in zero-gravity.

But when he runs towards me and lifts me into the air, I battle an onslaught of prideful tears. Circling my arms around his neck, I feel the warmth of his helmet against my cheek and imagine it's his skin instead.

Pulling back, I rest my forehead against his helmet, grasping either side with my hands. For that moment in time as we stand, two lost souls trying to make sense of this life we've found ourselves in, it feels like home.

...

"Do you see Brendon?"

"I cannot confirm a Bash sighting," Rami answers. "Why don't you just call him?"

I shake my head. "He's probably busy getting ready or celebrating with the team or—"

"Or counting down the minutes until he gets to see you."

"Not you too."

"Hey." Rami nudges Jun and points across the open bar. Past the strings of stars flickering above and the soft breeze coasting through, Lauren stands on the other end with her hands waving in the air to get his attention.

"Shit."

A million thoughts flash through Jun's eyes as he debates waiting for his booze or answering Lauren's call, but his heart wins out in the end and he shoots us a request to enjoy the drink for him. The sea of faces parts like he's Moses and within seconds he's next to her.

"Imagine being that in love with someone and not being able to admit it."

"Yeah. Imagine that." He turns to me."Can I be honest with you?"

"Rami, if you're about to tell me you used all of my conditioner again—"

"It's about Bash."

I glare at him. "Don't tell me you've been talking this entire time."

"No, but I know where he is. Just wanted to see you squirm for a bit."

"All of you are on thin ice."

Rami holds his hands up in defense. Now that Jun has turned to the dark side, though still Anakin and not full-blown Darth Vader yet, Rami now holds the title of the most forgiving with his teasing nature.