The professional angle is holding me back. It’s not like I have years of credibility under my belt with The Downforce Network. I know they wouldn’t like a reporter dating an F1 driver. I also know I will be the topic of gossip already for the interview I scored. There will be a lot of talk of how I got it. If I were seen going on a date with him? It would be HORRIBLE for my reputation.
Hadleigh Vanderburg is typing …
Okay. There’s already gossip. Because let’s face it, Caleb likes you. That’s why you got the interviews. You haven’t dated him to get them, and he hasn’t granted them in return for a date first, but this is going to be the gossip anyway. I say get to know him, and if things get serious—and you happen to be working at The Downforce Network—then go to the higher-ups and talk about it. They might have a problem with it. I don’t know. But I don’t think this would impact any corporate sponsorships that are headed your way—more publicity for them. A lot of your social media audience will like it. Some will hate it and will hate YOU for getting the object of their desire, so you need to factor that in, too.
I groan. Hadleigh has brought up things I hadn’t thought about. You know, like gettingdeath threatsif I start dating Caleb.
Because I know other F1 WAGS have received them. And other hateful, scary, and cruel messages on social media.
Social media. It’s helped build my career, but it can be beyond disturbing at the same time.
I text her back:
You’re right about all of this. I’ll just have to prove myself by continuing to do other pieces of content for the network—if they ask me—and on my channels to fight what is already being said. And I haven’t said yes to his invite yet. H, he asked me out for coffee tonight. Using a FRIENDSHIP BRACELET.
I see Hadleigh is immediately responding to that, and then I get her message:
WAY TO BURY THE LEDE, ISLA! HE ASKED YOU OUT WITH A FRIENDSHIP BRACELET?????
I giggle and begin to type a response, but another one drops in from Hadleigh:
IF YOU DO NOT SAY YES, YOU ARE INSANE. Caleb freaking Collings asked you out with a FRIENDSHIP BRACELET. He put THOUGHT into this. HE LIKES YOU. He hasn’t implied he’s aiming to get straight into your panties. MY GOD, HE MIGHT BE A GLOBAL TREASURE.
I burst out laughing and finish my message:
You’re right on all fronts. I think if this were about sex, he’d make that clear. I don’t think he’d be wasting his time making friendship bracelets and asking me to coffee. He’d be asking me to his motorhome. Or asking to come up to my room. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but you know I don’t do hookups. I’m a relationship-type girl.
Hadleigh Vanderburg is typing …
Of course, I still think there’s something to ripping off that driving suit, peeling off the fireproof shirt, and taking him against a garage wall if you were to experiment with a hookup …
That image flashes through my mind, and this freezing hotel room is now stifling hot.
Another message drops in from Hadleigh:
Just sit with it for a bit. Don’t be afraid to follow your gut, even if it tells you something you don’t expect. You know I was teasing you about saying yes. Your gut has always led you to the right place, and it won’t fail you now. LOVE YOU!!
I put the phone down and pick up the bracelet. I think of Caleb’s eyes when he understood I wasn’t going to grill him on his family secrets during our interview. I think of how hard helaughed at something I said. I think of Silverstone and Monaco and his delight over weird foam candy. I know the risks.
My career, for one.
But what about the other risk? That if I don’t take this chance, I could miss out on someone really special?Someone who could change the rest of my life.
I slide the bracelet onto my wrist, and as I do, my heart pounds inside my chest.
As I stare down at the bracelet Caleb made for me, my gut says I must say, without a doubt, YES to his invitation.
* * *
I take a breath as I look in the bathroom mirror. I’m about ready to meet Caleb for coffee, and there’s this jittery, electric energy that is practically humming through my body. I’ve pulled out my black fit-and-flare midi dress with a ruffled off-the-shoulder neckline. I used my jumbo curling iron to put some waves back into my hair, and redid my face so it’s not TV makeup, but something I’d wear on a date.
I swallow.
A date.
A date withCaleb Collings.
A date that could make my life messy and complicated career-wise if I like him as much as I think I could. I’m playing with fire, and I know it.