Page 33 of Narrow Margins
“So, we’re here as a couple then?” Corrie stutters.
“Hell yeah, baby, and don’t forget it.” I walk with him to the group of friends facing us: most have smiles on their faces, others look a little stunned by my very public display of affection. I scan for Raff and see his sardonic face and cocked eyebrow. Suck it up, your brother is mine!
I clap my hands together, “So, who’s up to beat me?”
Ryan laughs and walks over and cuffs my shoulder. “Just here for some fun, Griff, don’t get carried away.”
“Fuck that, show me some bikes and find me some leathers. When I’m on a bike, I race, even if it’s only to beat myself.”
“That’s good to know. Follow me.” Ryan saunters back into the garage bay. In front of me are six Ducati race bikes, shit, I’m in bike heaven.
I walk over and run my hands over the slick, red metal encasing the powerful engines. Tracing the leather seat, my heart beats so hard I hear it pulsing against my eardrums. When I glance back up I see Corrie gazing at me. I can’t quite get a read on what he’s thinking but, by the way he’s biting his bottom lip, I’m hoping it’s all good thoughts.
Ryan’s voice interrupts my pondering. “I hope you don’t mind, but I called your manager for your sizes to get you some leathers but he FedEx’d yours over.”
“Really? Wow! Thanks, man, where are they?”
Ryan points to the corner and I see them hanging on a coat hanger. Walking across, I reach out to touch them and I’m overcome with emotion. The last time I wore these was the last race of the season, shortly before I met Corrie, and the day before the shit-storm that ruined my life. I feel a soft hand against my back then arms drag me back to a solid warm chest.
“Is this too much? Too painful?” Corrie speaks quietly in my ear, “If you want to go, we can.” He stays silent, merely holding me against him, letting me draw strength from him. “By the way, I trust you and I believe you.”
Before I get the chance to turn, a kiss drops on the back of my head, but I twist around and clutch his head in my hands and kiss him.
“Thank you. For understanding me in this moment and for trusting me with you. You won’t regret it.” I kiss him again then pull away and reach for my leathers. Without regard for the others hanging around, I strip out of my clothes and reach for the one piece, soft as doe skin, race suit. It feels like I’m slipping back into my own skin.
I look around for my gloves and crash helmet and see the others looking at me, the guys seem pissed and the women look flushed. One gorgeous redhead fans her face as she laughs with Lena, the designer.
“Not ashamed of your body then, Broderick?” Nico shouts out.
“Why should I be, I’m gorgeous.” I laugh, suddenly feeling lighter and so much more myself. And it’s more than the leathers and gear: it’s Corrigan, the man still standing at my side, trying to hold back his laughter. The amazing man who is going to be mine for the rest of my life if I get my own way.
I strut back to Ryan, zipping the suit as I go, “So, which one of these beauties is mine?” But I already know: this year’s MotoGP bike, the Desmosedici GP. “I don’t know how the hell you got your hand on this, but this beauty is mine.”
“I’ve been riding Ducati’s for a long time, I just asked them nicely.” Ryan smiles but there’s more to it than he’s letting on, I don’t care.
“You got mechanics here and safety guys?” I ask to make sure we’ve got backup if we need it. “Oh, and insurance?”
“Griff, we’re covered. Now, go and show us what you can do.” He smiles broadly at me.
Two guys—I recognize them as guys from the Ducati pit crew—walk over to me, smiling and offering their hands. I smile and shout out a friendly greeting but my mind is in a spin. They get the bike off its stand and, as they wheel it out to the front and get it started, I listen to their instructions. These guys know their shit, and it pays to give them the respect they deserve. Then, with a pat on the back, they let me go.
I peel away at a sensible speed and take it down the pit lane. Keeping it at a steady eighty to ninety miles per hour as I weave around the track, I get a feel for the bike and the layout of the track. After the first lap, I pull back in and up to the mechanics. Lifting my visor, I speak only with them, giving them my feedback to which they nod and let me out again.
This time it’s simply me and the bike, and I’m back in my happy place; my mind is on the game as I pick up speed. This beauty can do two-ten miles per hour and I’m gonna do my best to get everything I can out of her. My body leans and turns, part of the machine, as I take the bends and curves. Getting back to the start/finish line, I see the guys watching me from the pit wall. Crossing the line, I take it out for another lap; I can’t get enough of this bike. The adrenaline builds inside me as I open the throttle, pushing myself to the limit. Muscles in my legs and arms tighten as I grip harder. I need to get to the gym more, I’m not as fit as I was nearly a year ago. How can I live without this in my life? I need to race like I need oxygen. I glimpse Corrigan as I race past them again, like I need him. One more lap. Noticing someone with a speed camera aimed at me, I go balls out and fly around the asphalt, weaving in and out of every bend. My knee hits the floor on a fair few of them too, fuck, I’m in heaven!
As I get back round, I see the mechanics pointing me into the pit. Coming off the throttle, I cruise down the lane. I push my visor up and look around for Corrie, I spot him leaning back against the wall, watching me. His eyes are dark, causing worry about his reaction to bubble up. But when I come to a stop and he pushes himself off the wall, the swagger he has gives away as much as the sexy, lazy half smile he gives me. He loved it, thank god for that.
As soon as I watch him pull away, I move to the wall, my eyes fixed on every turn and bend he takes. Pride infuses me, following his body as it moves with ease from side to side on the corners. My breath catches in my throat as his knee hits the asphalt when his body leans so far over. I’m in awe as he rights himself. I’ve seen the way his muscles tense and ripple under my fingertips and tongue but it bears no resemblance to the sheer strength and power he has on a bike that must weigh over three hundred pound. He shifts it around like it’s a feather.
I see him slow down and pull up again to talk to the mechanics, I’ve never seen him so relaxed. This time when he pulls away, he guns it and my heart leaps into my throat. He’s so fast, he’s almost a blur. Troy comes and stand with me, Raff next to him.
“He looks amazing out there, the bike is just an extension of his body, don’t you think?” Troy’s eyes stay on my man as he speaks.
“I thought it was the other way around, I feel he is a part of the bike. He is so in tune with a motorcycle he’s never ridden before, he’s just…” the words hitch in my voice, I see Troy’s eyes widen in surprise. “He’s just amazing.”
“So, are you together, together? That was quite a kiss he gave you.” Raff’s question brings out a scowl, even though I’m still watching Griff.
“We are working things out, but I think so, yes. It’s not him who’s hesitating, it’s me. So, stop judging him, Raff, it’s none of your business.” I glance at him quickly, giving him a look that will shut him up, I hope.