𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 ( 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐎𝐧𝐞)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐎𝐧𝐞- 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐈𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐲

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭.
   ~𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐡𝐞𝐢 𝐔𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐚~

𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐚

Nothing prepared me for the loneliness I felt when we landed in Italy. Zion and Matteo walked beside me in silence; between the three of us, only Matteo seemed to be in high spirits. I sometimes forget how jazzed he could be at the track. The idea that we were a few hours away from starting vigorous training in preparation for Abu Dhabi Grand Prix had him in a rush of excitement.

It was early evening; the breeze hit my face immediately after my feet hit the ground, the city skyscrapers reigning tall with bright lights making the city come to life.

With only a small bag in my left hand, I walked faster out of the airport, my face on the ground to prevent people from recognising me even though we walked out through a private lounge. One could never be too careful. The last think I wanted was people shoving their phone cameras at me.

My phone rang just before we spotted our ride, a white Land Rover. I knew it was ours when I saw Javier leaning on it, a cigarette at the corner of his lips, one of his muddy black boots carelessly resting on the back tyre. Javier was the son of one of my father's friends, Jesús. I have not heard many stories of the two of them, but I remember one particular unforgettable moment when my dad told me Jesús was there when my mother announced, publicly so, that I was my father's son and not her then-husband.

"Why the hell are your boots so fucking muddy?" I asked, standing next to him. He smirked, blowing smoke on my face.

I frowned, scrunching my nose to keep from smelling the smoke. "You're disgusting sometimes." he gave me a cocky smile, sliding his foot to the ground. "Welcome back home, amigo." I didn't acknowledge his welcome; I was busy fighting the urge to slap the smugness off his face. I opened the door he had been leaning on and slid into the car, leaving the other two with him.

Javier's family was predominantly Mexican; his mother, however, was Italian. In a way, or so I've heard, my father sent her to his father's club on the day my stepdad was killed. He never thought Jesús would marry her, but he did. A year later? Javier was born. He was Alessa's age. More disrespectful, a smart-ass, a crazy bastard, yet loyal. He was a master of manipulation and faking documents, which is why he was here to pick us up. He was not old enough to drive; he was using a fake driver's license.

Pulling out my phone from my pocket, my heart in my throat thinking it was Lia, I put in the password to find my trainer's name Sam, diminutive for Samuele, displayed as a missed call. I sighed with disappointment, my eyes fixed on the screen. I called back after a few minutes of getting over the misplaced feeling of dismay.

"Are you avoiding my calls?" Came his booming hoarse voice. I could picture him pacing, one hand in his pocket, a furrow on his forehead. I had been gone for two weeks, one week more than we had agreed.

"No, Sam. I just landed." I told him. "I'm sorry I've been M.I.A, I added more loudly over the other's voices.

I heard him hiss, and I leaned back on the seat, running my hand through my hair, then withdrawing it so fast, like I had been burned when I remembered Lia doing the same, especially that last time in the bathroom.

"You realise I'm going to be relentless when we start training tomorrow?"

"I Wouldnt expect anything less," I said, finally feeling a tiny smile stretching across my lips.