Born To Run: A Counterpoints Novella Read online

  “Sometimes you,” I winked and he chuckled.

  “Only sometimes,” his dark, piercing eyes were on me for just a moment, before he turned to look at the cars again.

  I did the same, but I kept glancing his way, fidgeting a little as I did. That look, brief like the blink of an eye, had sent shivers down my spine.

  In that moment it hit me, who I was actually sitting next to. Maybe Noah was my instructor any other day, but that Sunday he was Noah Laurent, the famous First Category Race driver.

  The wild one, the rebel, the one hard to control.

  The cold- hearted race driver, the one that didn’t give a damn if he was alone and against the world.

  In other words, the asshole, I held back a laugh.

  “Noah, Noah, Noah,” a group of fans on the stands had spotted him and were now clapping and calling out his name.

  Noah’s face didn’t change one bit, like he was deaf or something and I elbowed him gently, without thinking twice.

  “What’s the matter? A little wave won’t hurt, they are cheering you,” I said.

  “Oh, should I do your entrance? The one you practiced daily at the Academy?” he teased and I elbowed him again, straight in the stomach.

  “Hey,” I pouted. “Come on, don’t be an asshole. Wave.”

  And he did.

  Noah raised his hand up and the cameras were on him instantly. He was on all the screens and the speaker announced his name, as guest star of the day.

  “There you go, see? It didn’t kill you,” I said and watched him lower his arm again.

  “It almost did,” Noah teased. “They are just surprised to see me, I never come to these sorts of things.”

  “Races, they are called races,” his eyes darted at me and I smiled a little cheekily. “Don’t you love it? They called out for you. I had shivers. God, I wish MY name was Noah.”

  His head snapped back. I did it. I made him laugh, really laugh hard.

  “They’ll call your name out one day,” he chuckled. “No seriously, one day Vera.”

  I nodded slowly and then turned to the track again.

  Who knows? If only it was just up to me…

  “What does your dad say about all this? About you wanting to become a professional race driver?” Noah eyed me curious and I leaned a little forward, never looking away from the cars.

  “My dad is happy, I always had his support.”

  “What about your mother? Is she worried about your love for speed?” he smirked a little and I turned for a moment, a soft smile spreading across my face.

  “I don’t have a mother,” I said and watched his eyes darken.

  “I am sorry,” Noah mumbled under his breath, he scratched his head a little embarrassed and I did my best to shake off the awkwardness.

  There was really no need to feel bad, I was okay.

  “I am fine. Don’t be. I am good,” I smiled and he seemed to relax a bit. “She died five months after I was born, but my family knew she was going,” I paused and watched the cars line up again on track, ready for the traffic lights to turn green. “She refused cancer treatment to have me. She told my father that she couldn’t give me up, there was no way she could have lived without me. But I could, I could’ve lived without her. So here I am, I have her name. My father tells me I also have her strong personality. Her love for me is my daily reminder of how much life is worth. And I don’t want to waste it, giving up my dreams. I want it all. For me and for her.”

  I meant every word, even though sometimes, my truth was hard to speak.

  I wasn’t trying to soften anyone, using my mother’s death. No tears, no sorrow.

  To be honest, I never talked about it with anyone, but Noah had mentioned her, there was no reason to lie.

  I was the way I was thanks to her and the way my father had raised me. Her sacrifice, I didn’t want it to be for nothing. I wanted my life to be spectacular. And I wanted to be worth it.

  “My dad is probably sitting at home right now, watching this and dreaming of seeing me race one day,” I broke the silence and watched Noah nod.

  “One day he will. Because that’s exactly where you are going next.”

  The red traffic light was still on.

  “Go Christopher, go!” I shouted and Noah gave me a funny look.

  “What? You're jealous? You are not racing and he deserves to win this one. Also, he supports me and I support him,” I managed to keep my face straight till the end and Noah gave me another funny look, before pointing to the cars on the grid.

  They were all lined up and ready to go, the race was about to start, my throat felt suddenly dry, my hands prickly.

  I loved that feeling, the tension, the excitement when a race was about to begin.

  “Come on, you can tell me,” I murmured, turning his way, one hand to the side of my mouth so nobody could hear me.

  “Tell you what?” Noah eyed me briefly and smiled a little, as I winked and pointed to the cars on the grid.

  “How much you miss it, how you’d love to be down there, rather than up here with me,” I said softly.

  “Up here with you is exactly where I want to be right now,” his dark, serious eyes stayed on me a second longer, like they were carefully carving each word into mine, and I swallowed hard. The way he said it, the way he was looking at me- into me- left me a little speechless, a little stunned.

  I cleared my throat and looked away, back at the track.

  “I don’t believe you,” I spoke my mind, just like he did. Always. It was liberating, it was the only way Noah could be and I wanted to do that for him too, for once. Tell him things the way I saw them.

  That fire he was trying to hide, the eagerness to drive, he couldn’t have fooled me if he wanted to. It was there, still there, amongst the disappointment, the resentment. But it was still alive and burning.

  “There is no point talking about it, there is no going back,” he told me, looking ahead too. He rubbed his hands. “I had my chance, had one hell of a ride. I’d rather see you down there now, I’d rather see you kick ass,” Noah said and I eyed him to the side, waiting for his words to settle in.

  “Thank you,” I touched his arm and smiled, my heart fluttered a little, just thinking about his words again.

  Me in First Category Racing. And I had his support, famous race driver Noah Laurent, the bad boy of racing. I was on a wild trip, high on his words, his trust.

  “But just one more time, one more race. I’d love to watch you teach those rookies a lesson. God, I’d pay to see you down there again,” I kept smiling and watched him shake his head and chuckle.

  The roars of the engines brought us back to reality.

  “I want you to watch very carefully, observe everything,” Noah said to me. “This is about you, Vera. We are here for you. Watch.”

  He didn’t need to tell me twice. I savoured that moment, took in every little detail and watched the race, enjoying every minute of it.

  After only ten laps, Christopher was leading the race, giving the other drivers a very hard time. I was on a wild ride, couldn’t take my eyes off the track.

  “Look at this,” Noah went on a few minutes later. “And tell me you want it.”

  “Desperately,” I said locking eyes with him.

  “How much?” he demanded to know.

  “I don’t know, I can’t compare what I am feeling right now with anything else. I just feel like I want to be there, down there, not up here.”

  “Good,” Noah smiled and I felt so exposed under his stare.

  I wanted him to see how much this meant to me, First Category Racing, this chance he and Christopher were giving me- being there, watching that race with him.

  “How much time do you need to achieve this?”

  “I don’t know,” I said to him, feeling nervous again.

  How much time? How did I know? As if it depended on me.

  “You need to know. You need to have a plan. Give yourself a time frame. How much time do you
need? How much time before you start winning in First Category Racing, Vera?” Noah insisted.

  “I don’t know,” I kept telling him but he shook his head.

  “This is a sport where you need to know, you need to know what you are doing. Nobody's going to help you sort your stuff out. Nobody's going to bet money on you. But you, you have to believe in yourself. Now tell me Vera, how much do you want this? How much time do you need to achieve it? To take that winning home?”

  I looked back down, at the cars darting by, the frenzy in the boxes, the fans cheering on the stands, the speaker announcing the leader of the race- Champion Christopher Taylor, his voice echoed all around us- and I breathed in deep.

  “Next year in First Category Racing. Two years to start winning,” I said and turned my head to Noah again.

  “Good. Sounds like a plan,” then he crossed his arms over his chest and told me to listen very carefully. “The tournament is your only chance. This is a one-shot thing for you, Vera. Your age and gender are against you, but I believe in you. Christopher and I believe in you. Focus. Make that plan we just talked about happen.”

  I nodded solemnly but felt my eyes go watery when he spoke again:

  “Remember: you are Vera Evans, the first woman in First Category Racing.”

  I nodded. That was exactly who I was.

  I am Vera Evans, the first woman in First Category Racing.

  Chapter 7

  Vera

  Two days to the tournament and I was a nervous wreck. I had never worked so hard for something. My days were long and intense. I trained twice as much as the guys there and, no matter how hard I tried, no matter how convincing Noah had been at the race in London, I was still tense.

  Two days to the tournament and one hundred doubts in my head, but I didn’t talk to anyone about them. As I exercised in the gym that Thursday afternoon, I thought of all the things I had given up to be at the Academy – my day job, my family, my friends- and wondered if I hadn’t just made a big mistake.

  Every exercise seemed insurmountable, every time I tried to concentrate, my emotions were all over the place. I was scared of failing, scared of not being noticed by anyone. What if I get in that car, drive better than anyone else out there and am still not asked to join a team?

  My success wasn’t just about talent.

  I knew there was a risk, that obstacle Noah told me about from day one- the one I might not be able to jump. Prejudice, stereotypes.

  I had one chance and that chance was First Category Racing. No step by step career for me. It was all or nothing. I felt the pressure in my chest. What if nobody spotted me? How many chances did I really have? How many people was I going to let down?

  Free practice on track was only one day away, my legs began to shake.

  As I exercised, the doubts in my head made me lose focus, lose faith in myself. I wanted to cry and let it all out, but I refrained from doing so. The others would use it against me, I was sure.

  “Where is your head today?” Noah snapped me out of my dark, gloomy bubble.

  I looked down at my hands. They were red, bruised. A disaster, like me. I didn’t say a word, just looked back into Noah’s wary eyes and I saw something in them.

  Understanding? Kindness?

  Oh god, I hoped it wasn’t pity. That was the last thing I wanted from him. From anyone.

  I wanted Noah to be proud of me, not pity me.

  “What’s the matter?” he moved closer and lowered his voice.

  There were only two people in the gym at that time of the day, both on the treadmill at the far back of the room. Still, I was so grateful he hadn’t shouted at me for not doing the exercise the way he’d wanted me to.

  What WAS the matter? Nothing was right that day. Nothing felt okay. I was panicking. So I told him, exactly what I was feeling.

  “I feel like smashing everything in here,” I whispered and almost broke into a sob. “I am sick of it. I am afraid…” he didn’t let me carry on.

  His big strong hand was on my shoulder immediately.

  “Let’s get out of here. Let’s change place. You need the change to brighten your horizon. Cause that horizon is bright, Vera. You are just too tired to see it,” Noah looked at me reassuringly and told me I was doing great.

  Look how much stronger I had become in a couple of weeks, he said to me. How consistent and flawless my driving had become. Maybe he was right, but I couldn’t see it. Doubt was making my day a living hell.

  We wore our jackets and headed outside, to Noah’s car. The sun was going down, it was almost sunset and I kept my eyes on the orange sky during the whole ride. I didn’t ask him where we were going, where he was taking me or why. I trusted him to do what was best for me, for my training. I felt better already, to be out of the Academy, away from the funny stares and male chauvinist’s glares.

  At some point, Noah stopped the car and I looked around. It was a little windy, seagulls were flying above us and the air was salty.

  We are on the coast.

  “Where are we?” I asked, breaking twenty minutes of blissful silence.

  “My personal training facility,” he smiled and stepped out of the car.

  I followed him out, on a sandy little road that led us to the beach. The air was warm and dark clouds were approaching the shore. They promised rain but I didn’t care. I was out, I felt better. The clouds could have dumped all they had on me, my chest was finally free to breathe in some fresh air. And maybe I could leave all my doubts on that shore, letting the wind carry them away.

  You are so close to your goal, what is wrong with you? I wanted to scream at myself, I wanted Vera the Bitch to make an appearance. I wanted to snap back into the motion of things.

  “You're panicking,” Noah asserted just a couple of steps from the water.

  The sea was rough, I watched the waves crash against the rocks, I nodded, keeping my eyes on the trail of lather. I was just like that sea, inside I was untameable, I was a storm.

  “Walls down Vera. I want you to shout it all out. Before we train again, before we go back to the Academy. I want you to look at the sea and shout over the sound of the waves. Let it all out, let the weight out. You need to be light, you need to clear your mind,” he told me and I didn’t wait for him to tell me again.

  I shouted every doubt, every single fear in my mind and let the wind carry it away, let the soothing sound of the sea, pull that weight from my chest.

  “I am scared I’ll fail,” I shouted once.

  “I don’t want to go back to my old life,” I shouted again.

  “I am scared I’ll let my father down,” again and again.

  “I don’t want to doubt. I don’t want you to doubt me,” I took another deep breath and shouted.

  “I don’t want to let you down,” I shouted one more time and turned to look at him with tears, my blue eyes locking with his.

  “You won’t,” Noah said, shaking his head slowly. “You can’t let me down, I am proud of you already.”

  My mouth dropped open to say something, but I found no words, not the right ones anyway.

  The wind blew harder, my long hair whipped around my neck and a strand covered my eyes for a moment, but Noah reached for it and gently moved it away, his fingers brushing briefly against my cold cheeks.

  His fingertips were warm, lingering slightly, as they burned like fire.

  “Follow me, let’s train here for a bit,” Noah said, looking away, taking his hand back, putting distance between us again.

  In silence, I followed him to a set of bars and a wooden structure on the beach. It had monkey bars and push up bars.

  I dropped my bag, my jacket and stood in front of him- in my top and fitted training pants- lifting my shoulders up; managing a smile.

  “First, breathe in and out, Vera,” Noah’s voice was low, calm and husky. I kept my eyes on him, on his wide shoulders, and did exactly what he told me to.

  I lifted my arms up and breathed in the fresh salty air,
only to gently lower them again- hoping to get rid of all that negativity, fighting back the tears.

  It worked. We moved together, Noah and I, slowly and without saying a word but never looking away. Our eyes were locked, I was following his every move and starting to feel like myself again.

  “Better?” Noah asked and I smiled a little again.

  “Yes,” I told him as I watched him nod.

  “The bars now,” he moved to the side and I followed him, fastening my gloves quickly. “Ready?”

  I nodded. He walked behind me and moved in closer, I could feel his hard chest against my back, his breath slowly caressing my neck.

  Or was it the sea breeze? It was hard to tell but Noah was so close, only inches from me, I could feel the heat from his body, and his voice was so low, the skin on my shoulders began to prickle with every word.

  I sucked in a breath, as he placed his hands on my hips and eased me up, waiting for me to grasp the bar. My stomach tied in a knot, my cheeks went up in flames.

  I was getting carried away, my emotions all over the place now that the tournament was approaching. I knew these feelings were probably one sided but the way Noah looked at me sometimes, had me questioning. I told myself I was imagining things, our training wasn’t any different from any other day, from what we had been doing in the gym.

  He’s the instructor, I am the trainee. I kept repeating in my head, like a mantra.

  Just stop, stop imagining things that aren't there. I told myself off, gripping the bar harder.

  With all the strength I had left in my arms, I pushed my body up and then down again slowly. Up and down, following Noah’s rhythm as he clapped his hands, never looking away from me.

  As minutes went by, I was beginning to feel like myself again. I really was. But the tension in my stomach, was still there.

  I just couldn’t stop looking at him. At his lips, how softly they moved when he told me what to do. How strong his shoulders and arms were. I followed every word he said to the letter. I wanted to show him I was worth it, convince him I was not going to lose it again. My doubts, I didn’t want them to be his doubts, too.