Counterpoints 2 (Counterpoints #2) Read online

  “Yeah”

  “So go to sleep, silly”

  Isabella giggled in her phone. “I am not the one who drives the car. You know that, right? I am the one who sits at the computer, takes pictures and occasionally walks around”

  “But still… how’s the ‘once hottie, now turned wanker’?” Cristina’s tone changed. She sounded eager to hear news from Isabella about Christopher.

  “How much time have you got?” Isabella answered and then told her friend what had happened.

  She heard Cristina mumble something under her breath a few times, but she let Isabella talk and spoke only once she had finished the whole story, after she had told her about the last conversation they had had earlier in the car.

  “So what are you going to do?” Cristina wondered.

  “I don’t know, nothing I guess. It’s better to just keep things this way”

  “Better for who? What are you talking about? It is obvious that you like this guy and he likes you”

  Isabella touched her forehead, the headache was back, full on as she thought about Christopher.

  She knew things couldn’t go on like that, Isabella didn’t even know why she had said it in the first place.

  Isabella felt like she was stuck, her feet deep in shifting sands, no easy way out in sight.

  “It’s not just what happened in Cannes. That was just a little preview. He’s going to have girls around him all the time and I don’t think I can handle another situation like the one with his ex, top model. Plus the media’s attention, working together and being together secretly…”

  “Who cares about all that” Cristina’s voice sounded a little hysterical.

  She must be super tired and stressed.

  “Like you said, he has women around him all the time. He can have whoever he wants. So why would he be going after you, if he wasn’t totally into you?”

  “I don’t know” why was he after her, why was a man like him after a woman like her?

  “Excuse me, but he took you to the Aquarium in the middle of the night, just because you love it” as any good lawyer, Cristina started to place all the evidence on the table.

  “He was just being nice, it was my birthday and he was trying to be a good friend” Isabella said, a little uncertain.

  “I am your friend, I got you your favorite box of chocolates. I didn’t blindfold you, to drive you around Toronto” Cristina pressed on. “Go speak to him”

  “What? No, he’s sleeping. He’s the one driving tomorrow, remember?” Isabella teased.

  “I meant tomorrow”

  “Since when are you so emotional and forgiving towards mankind?” Isabella put a hand on her hip, not believing her friend’s change of heart.

  This was Cristina she was talking to, the most direct, upfront, ‘reality in your face person’ she had ever met and now she was siding with matters of the heart.

  “I am feeling very emotional right now. I am saying goodbye to one of the greatest loves of my life, my city”

  “Go, sleep a few hours” Isabella suggested, more like ordered.

  “Okay, I think I will” she sighed on the other side “Thanks for listening”

  “Thanks for calling” Isabella smiled and they hung up.

  She held the phone in her hands and looked at the screen, at the picture she had put on it. It was a snapshot of her Cristina and Maria on the beach last summer.

  There was another ding and a preview of another email from Mr. Jenkins covered the picture on the screen.

  It was around midnight, when Isabella decided she could no longer lay in bed.

  Her eyes wouldn’t close, they were wide open and she was tired of staring at the white ceiling. She wasn’t sleepy, she was tired, but not sleepy.

  She couldn’t shake Christopher, and the conversation they had had in the car, out of her head.

  She sat up and looked at her phone. She scrolled down the contact list, looking for Christopher’s number.

  “All I can think of is you… Tell me that we are good” the words echoed in her head and she felt a tedious uneasiness inside of her.

  The air had to be cleared, Cristina was right.

  She couldn’t let things hang between them like that, like today.

  It was okay for her to live in a limbo, but she couldn’t let Christopher hang on the edge like that, not with the second half of the championship ahead of him.

  Not with a car, that resembles a space rocket, in his hands.

  He needed to stay focused, to think of what he was doing in the car.

  If their relationship was over, it had to be over for real. No more sneaking around, no more uncertainty. None of that saying one thing and then doing the complete opposite.

  I can’t call him now, she thought as she scrolled down the numbers.

  He was probably sleeping, like any race driver the night before the race.

  When Christopher’s number appeared on the screen, Isabella eye’s caught the green light next to it. He was online. He was awake.

  She jumped off the bed and started to walked back and forth in her small, dark bedroom.

  She eyed her phone a couple of times, while thinking it through.

  Should I call him?

  Isabella caught her reflection in the mirror – her short hair was a little ruffled, her eyes tired and her full red lips set in a tense line.

  It wasn’t doing her any good, it wasn’t doing him any good, not knowing what was going to happen between him. She had to set things straight, now and for good.

  He’s still awake, it means something.

  Her hand grabbed the key card of the room and without even realizing it, she was already out the door, walking the empty corridor to the elevators in her bare feet.

  In a haste to see him, she had forgotten to wear flip-flops. Christopher’s room was two floors up.

  The elevator opened and, to Isabella’s relief, it was empty. She saw her reflection again and bit her lower lip nervously, shaking her head as she did.

  She was going to see Christopher, this gorgeous man she had gone out with a couple of months, to set things straight with him, in white shorts and white singlet - her summer sleeping attire basically- no makeup and no good sense whatsoever.

  For a moment, just before the doors opened, she thought about going back to her room. She contemplated a coward retreat, but then she stepped in the corridor and walked slowly to Christopher’s door.

  507.

  Isabella stopped, her fist midair, still unsure if she was doing the right thing.

  No sound came from the room, no sound from the corridor or the nearby accommodations. Her breathing quickened and so did her pulse.

  When her knuckles touched the grey wooden door, her stomach tensed.

  The knock was soft, but determined. It was too late to back away now.

  Isabella swallowed hard, her throat dry and itchy all of a sudden. She hugged herself, her bare shoulders a little cold from the air conditioning in the corridor.

  She took a step back, seeing the door still shut.

  Maybe it was better that way, that he had fallen asleep. Maybe it had been a bad idea to begin with, to bring the conversation up again.

  Then the door opened wide and Christopher’s eyes rested on Isabella.

  “Hi” his voice wasn’t hiding his surprise.

  He hadn’t even been sure that somebody had knocked, really knocked at his door.

  Christopher had been lying in bed, eyes wide open, his mind too busy thinking for it to even consider sleep.

  He stood there, with a pair of sweatpants and a fitted t-shirt on – his green eyes shining at the sight of Isabella- waiting for her to speak.

  “Hi” she said, her face serious, her hands still clasping her cold shoulders. “I hope I didn’t wake you…”

  “I wasn’t sleeping” he admitted, his face unreadable.

  Whatever he was thinking, Isabella couldn’t figure out. Was he happy to see her?

  “Chr
istopher…” she started to say but the words stopped in her throat, leaving her mouth dry.

  She closed her eyes briefly and then looked up at him again. “I came up here to tell you something and I swear I rehearsed it in my head a couple of times in the elevator and now, you are staring at me like that and…” she pointed to her head and let out an exasperated laugh.

  “You rehearsed it?” he grinned and his face seemed to light up.

  “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not helping. This isn’t easy for me, too”

  He held up his hands and let her carry on.

  It was hard, hard to say, hard to think of how to say what she wanted to say. But she had to let him know what she thought, how she felt. It was now or never.

  So Isabella did the only thing that she knew she could manage. She stopped her thoughts from ruining the moment and spoke up, to say it just as it was.

  “We are good, you and I” she said softly and, seeing a wide smile spread across his lips, she added “I can’t stop thinking of you, too”

  Without saying anything else, he took her hand and pulled her in his arms, his lips desperate to touch hers.

  They let the door close slowly behind them- their doubts left outside, their feelings everywhere- while they moved inside the room in a tight embrace.

  Christopher’s hand snaked under her shirt, it pressed against her back and his mouth found hers in the dark.

  “I was going mad…” he told her in between kisses.

  “Me, too” she moaned back, as his hand cupped her face and Isabella’s fingers tugged his hair a little.

  Christopher opened his eyes, his nose brushing against hers.

  “Stay with me” he whispered and then kissed her again.

  “Chris…” she mumbled against his lips.

  “Shhh” he said, feeling Isabella’s hands on his lower back.

  Christopher’s muscles tensed- Isabella could feel it under her fingers- and her stomach tightened.

  “The race…” she mumbled again, while they kissed but couldn’t finish her sentence. Isabella knew it wasn’t a good idea. It was a sort of rule amongst athletes.

  No sex before a competition, a race, a match.

  “I don’t care” he took off her top and drank in the sight of her beautiful, half naked body. Those perfect curves, he thought and pulled down the straps of her bra, they drive me crazy.

  He cupped her breast and bent down to kiss one of the nipples that had slipped out of the cup. Isabella moaned and arched her back then, melting under Christopher’s touch.

  It felt like he hadn’t touched her in months.

  She quickly helped him out of his shirt and kissed his hard chest, her lips lingering on his strong shoulder.

  Christopher watched her lips brush against his skin, his eyes half closed in ecstasy.

  “I want you now” he panted and grabbed her thighs to lift her up- Isabella’s legs wrapped quickly around his hips- and then kissed her neck, sending sparks all the way down Isabella’s back.

  When the traffic light went out, Christopher’s foot stepped hard on the gas.

  He was far back from the first line, but he was on the clean side of the track. If he played his cards right, he knew he could overtake two cars before the first turn.

  Focus!

  The two cars in front of him were from a minor team, at their first year in First Category Racing.

  He could do it.

  I can do it.

  Within seconds he passed the car on his right and then turned left again, his car picking up speed. The first turn was there, right in front of him. There was no time to waste.

  He kept his foot down and checked the rearview mirror. Two cars were right behind him.

  One mistake, only one little mistake- a distraction, a technical problem, contact with another car- and he would be overtaken in an instant. That was what the start was like in races- critical, exciting and risky.

  “Losers take stupid risks, champions take calculated risks” his father used to tell him.

  Christopher knew exactly what needed to be done and how.

  If he wanted a fighting chance to beat Noah and win the race, he had to take risks, see spaces and create opportunities where others didn’t. Without causing collisions, without causing accidents. Like a real champion.

  Just before the curb, Christopher passed a young driver’s car, the debutant Philip Reynold, and smiled to himself behind his helmet.

  He wasn’t going to let anything or anyone affect his concentration, not today.

  He had let his worries, his problems ruin his weekend so far.

  He had lost his concentration yesterday, he had given the troubles in his life enough attention already. Christopher was done.

  Besides, since yesterday night Isabella was by his side again.

  She had forgiven him, they had spent the night together and that was all that mattered now.

  Christopher wasn’t going to let a meaningless ghost of his past, hurt him in any way again. The hell with that.

  It wasn’t like him, to give in to rage, but in that delicate moment, alone in his car, Christopher let the resentment towards the person behind his problems be his strength.

  The championship was all that mattered on track.

  The championship, Christopher. Just think about the championship, he recalled Isabella’s words from the other night.

  He pictured her smile, the same smile he had seen on her face after they had made love in his hotel room.

  Somehow, despite being a major screw up, he hadn’t lost her. Isabella had understood the sort of emotional mess that he was and hadn’t backed away. Cannes was behind them now.

  It was the first time he hadn’t slept ten hours straight before a race, but- after contemplating Isabella’s naked body by his side- Christopher had never felt more awake and aware.

  I’ll tell her, I’ll tell her what’s going on as soon as this weekend is over. I won’t let my past hurt her again, whatever it is we are doing, he thought.

  He could only hope Isabella could take in the blow.

  A war was on the way, he knew that. He wasn’t going to let anyone blackmail him.

  The vibration of the car made his head move from side to side, as he came out of the fourth curb and drove into the next one. He tightened his grip on the wheel.

  Seven more cars to overtake.

  I’m coming, Noah.

  Chapter 9

  Christopher’s car passed the finish line and then turned right, into the first curb.

  The crowd went wild.

  Isabella watched people jump up and down, proudly holding up a British Flag, waving and clapping hands. There was a real party going on up on the stands, even though Christopher hadn’t made it to the podium that day.

  Christopher raised one hand up in the sky- the other one safely on the steering wheel- and waved back at his fans, thanking them for their support.

  Inside the car though, he couldn’t contain his rage any longer for everything that had happened during the race.

  Fucking bastard.

  He headed towards the parking lane, where all the vehicles involved in the race were meant to stop. Christopher could see race marshals already there, doing their routine checkups, inspecting the cars.

  They would have a lot to inspect on his car. It was severely damaged, which was one of the reasons why he hadn’t made it on the podium that Sunday.

  With his rear spoiler and left side completely broken, Christopher knew he had been lucky enough to make it to the finish line at all. Noah hadn’t made it past lap sixty-two.

  Fucker, that’s for pushing me out.

  Christopher should have been proud of his sixth place, at least he had scored a few points for the team.

  But he wasn’t. Nothing worked, nothing made him feel any better. The reasoning was right, but inside he felt angry and upset and betrayed.

  He would never forget what Noah did to him that day.

  First he had pushe
d him out in Cannes, now he had literally closed on Christopher when he was overtaking him, just outside one of the last curbs of the track- one of the most dangerous ones of all the championship.

  Just as Christopher had begun to pass him on the inside, Noah had taken an unexpected turn- more like a unreasonable change of trajectory- and his front tire had crashed against Christopher’s side of the car, sending him off track.

  “Shit” he had said, while his grip on the wheel had hardened.

  Luckily, he had regained control of the car almost immediately, so that Christopher made it back to the box soon after, to change what could be changed, and had then drove back into the race.

  Noah had ended his race right after the crash, his front tire had gone flat during the contact.

  The left side is completely broken, Christopher acknowledged once he was out of the car, on his knees and looking underneath it.

  Where is he? He stood up quickly and walked around the cars, all the way to the front of the lane, where he could see from afar the MB logo on the box.

  He had to speak to Noah, now. Immediately.

  What the hell was he thinking?

  They could have gotten hurt, seriously injured at that speed. His hands curled into fists.

  Christopher waved to his fans, he turned left and right at the stands- his helmet still on- but he kept walking without slowing down, despite all the photographers and camera men that surrounded him- desperate for shots of his angry stride back to the box.

  The press is going to have a field trip with his story, he swallowed hard.

  “Hey, Chris. You really did a great job, you did your best mate” Fred patted his shoulder, as Christopher walked inside the box.

  The horde of photographers stood outside- not being allowed in- but kept their lenses and cameras ready to take a picture of Christopher’s outburst.

  Instead, Christopher smiled to Fred and thanked him for his words.

  “Where is he?” he asked.

  “He’s inside the debriefing room with Mr. Johnson and Hillary” Fred informed him and Christopher started walking again, fast and impetuous like a storm, to the back of the box stopping beside Isabella’s work station.

  “Christopher” she stood up as he passed by, scary as she had never seen him before, his hands closed into fists.