Page 14 of Homecoming

Watching Lola walk away, her shoulders slumped as she hugged herself, like she was struck and tried to keep the pain from emerging, only hurt me more.

With that memory stabbing in my brain, I kept scrolling until Lola’s face appeared.

I lay in bed, frozen.

That was—yet wasn’t—the girl I remembered.

Her hair was around her shoulders, shining in the sun. Her brown eyes were a little squinty from smiling broadly, her small nose was wrinkly and her full lips were painted red. Someone caught her in the midst of hilarity, but the picture was mesmerizing.

Seeing that picture, or more to the point her lips, a new, recent memory came into focus.

I could still feel how soft her skin was, how her breath had quickened when I’d touched her, and how her pulse had thumped under my fingertips.

But the need to kiss her had taken me by surprise.

I needed to know how she tasted, and how those lips would feel when I kissed her.

The memory and the feel were so fresh and intense that I had to shift to accommodate my growing erection.

Christ, I was like a sixteen-year-old boy, getting excited at the mere image of a girl.

Not even a one-night-stand with Stacy, or whatever her name was, had taken the edge off. The edge that Lola had put me on when she appeared again.

I threw back the covers and paced my hotel room, flexing my hand that still held the phone.

Fuck!

I couldn’t do this.

I couldn’t feel this intense connection to a girl I hadn’t spoken to for almost half my life.

I needed to focus on the season, on how to make the car perform better, on my training, and on winning the races. Not on a girl.

If I needed to get laid, it was no problem for me. All I had to do was crook my finger and women tripped over themself to grant me my every wish.

It wasn’t being cocky, or too in my head. It was just the way things were.

With Formula One racing came fame and money, but also status.

People wanted to be near the selected twenty and bask in their glory, it was the only way they had to come close to the adrenaline rush that coursed through us on a daily basis. With women though, well, things got even more accessible.

Everyone liked a little danger. And what was more dangerous than driving at two hundred miles per hour?

Knowing that pacing my suite would get me nowhere, I exited my room and pushed Kevin’s name in my phone.

After just two rings, he answered, “You should be sleeping, motherfucker.”

“No such luck,” I sighed, rubbing my head in frustration.

“What’s up?”

I couldn’t tell him that I got a hard-on by looking at Lola’s picture or imagining what it would be like to kiss her, I would never hear the end of it.

So I told him a lie, I tried to convince myself with just a few minutes ago, “Jet lag. You up for a drink?”

“Hell yeah,” Kevin answered as I knew he would. There was a reason we were good friends, we were there for each other, no matter what. “But only one, we have the meeting first thing in the morning, and you have the reaction training right after. I won’t be blamed for your poor performance.”

“Yea, will you sing me a lullaby to put me to sleep too?”