Page 61 of Game on, Love

“You call going around the circles for two hours fast-paced?”

“Circles? This is not Indy-car.”

“I have no clue what that is.”

“How are you living with a Formula OneChampion,and are you still this uncultured?”

“How are you related to not onebuttwo well-known cricketers and still somehow managed to avoid the entire sport for most of your life?”

I faltered, trying my best to cover my discomfort. “It’s called self-preservation.”

He frowned, not expecting that response, but the commentator’s voice pulled both of our attention towards the screen as the clock began the countdown. “It started, right? Why aren’t they leaving the Pits?”

“They usually like to wait a couple of minutes, edging on the hope that someone will go out first as with each lap, the track improves, and they want to use less of their tyres and still get the advantage,” I replied, looking at him and he nodded, his eyes still on the screen.

“So, the grid is like our batting order, yeah?” He asked, and I blinked, taken aback by the comparison, but something in my heart fluttered at his effort.

“It’s similar. In a squad, you’d base off the order with strategy, and it can remain the same for the rest of the time, or depending on the type of other players you get over the period of time or depending on the bowler they send, you can still change the order mid-game. But Qualifying has a lot of unknowns to it. You could be in the fastest car on the grid, but if you go out at the wrong time, have an issue with your car mid-lap or make a mistake, or someone in front of you has an issue can cause you to perform lower than expected. And instead of only two batters on the field, they all start together.”

“Sounds chaotic.”

“It is, but it’s a beautiful chaos.”

Oliver stared at me, and I only just realised he was wearing a smile. “You really love this, don’t you?”

“I do,” I exhaled before turning to the screen. One by one, cars left their garages and on to the track. My eyes were focused on only one. Vedant left the pits, and I looked back at Oliver. “Ever since the first time my mum took me to one Vedant’s go-kart race, I’ve loved every second of it. I couldn’t even tell you if it was because I was out with them, or because I saw my brother win, or just the pure thrill of watching them all race. I just did, and now it’s both my escape and my life.”

He was watching me with a rare expression, the one that made me feel the essence of it from the top of my head, to the tip of my toes. In that moment, I realised how much I loved sharing parts of myself with him. He always watched me with such sincerity, almost as if he was surprised that I was finally trusting him with something, even when it was a small detail but always touched at the same time.

“I get that,” He replied after a moment, and I nodded. We stared at each other for another moment before he tapped the side of my ankle and said. “Alright, show me your world of chaos.”

I want to.

I turned my gaze to the screen, and even though I tried the hardest to ignore it, the voice in my head remained because even though he had meant F1, there was a part of me that voiced it and wanted him to be a part of the rest of it too.

Oliver

THE SCREEN GLOWED INfront of us, but my eyes were fixed on her. The way the tip of her tongue stuck out—something she probably didn’t even realise she did—when she was focusing,the way she held her breath when a session was about to end or how she crossed her fingers when Vedant was on a hot lap. I wasn’t going to point any of them out either, too afraid of making her self-conscious and taking the chance from me to see her like this, but I would happily steal those moments for myself and keep them in a place in my mind.

Safe, like a secret. But it won’t be the first one of the night either.

The truth was, I wasn’t as clueless as she’d like to believe when it came to Formula One. I think it was two nights after Vedant moved in that he cracked, calling it downrightoutrageousthat I didn’t know anything about F1, so he gave me a crash course of his own, enough that I understood what was happening during the race, and enough so I could visit the track to watch him race live.

That was three years ago, and since then, I’d gone to Silverstone twice. So, yes, I hadliedto spend time with her, but it was a while lie, considering I really had zero clue about how they actually set the grid and the pure data and strategy that went behind each decision, something as small as choosing the tyre type during qualifying. Though, I doubt she would consider it a small decision.

We were in the middle of the break, waiting for Q3 to begin, and it looked like she was happy with her notes when she looked in my direction.

“You’re staring.”

“Just trying to entertain myself.” I winked, making her roll her eyes, though I caught the smile before she bit her lip and hid it.

“So, what do you think so far?”

“It’s much more analytical than I imagined,”

“And a lot less driving around in circles?” She joked, leaning back in her seat, and I chuckled.

“No… more like noodles.”