Caleb Collings is typing …
I live in the Jardin Exotique ward. Named after the garden in the area. Too bad you don’t have more time. The garden has some great views. And lots of cacti.
I text back:
I never pictured Monaco having cacti.
He replies:
Then it’s good you know a local to tell you these important things, isn’t it?
I smile at that.
Caleb Collings is typing …
While I wait for his answer to come in, I feel someone taking my picture. I look up, and sure enough, some people have recognized me and are approaching for a selfie.
This happened earlier this morning and I can’t get my head around it. That interview on The Downforce Network—along with my own social media pieces—have made me known in the F1 community. But there are people who walk right up to me and take selfies—sometimes without even asking—and it’s really weird.
I’ve also gotten more troll comments on social media, but luckily, I’ve got a pretty thick skin when it comes to that. I don’t go looking for reviews and comments, however. Those are for fans and viewers.
Not for me.
I decide that if I want to chat with Caleb, I might as well go into the Café de Paris so I can be left alone. As I walk toward it, his next message drops in:
About tonight—did you happen to bring a swimming costume? I have a heated pool, so we could swim if you want.
First, I smile at his British term for swimsuit, then I start clocking his reality. He lives in apenthouse. He has apool.
Oh my God, does he have arooftop pool?I can’t imagine anything sexier for a date.
Or seeing him in swim trunks.
F1 drivers are some of the fittest athletes on the planet. Caleb has to not only work on his neck muscles, but his arm strength, too. He has to be able to turn that steering wheel—which is incredibly hard due to downforces and g-forces—so his arms have to be strong. So does his core.
Which means I’ll be seeing his athletic body in a whole new way tonight in swim trunks.
Okay, as soon as I get a table, I need to address the sex issue. Because being in a pool with Caleb could get steamy rather quickly.
I reach the café, and I am lucky enough to be seated on the terrace. I reply to his last message:
I did pack a swimsuit because I figured I might get some time at the hotel pool, but this is infinitely better. Caleb, I do need to address something before I see you tonight. It could change how you feel, so I figure I’ll just say it. I can’t wait to spend time with you this evening. I want to get to know you better, but I don’t want to rush into sex. I’m not saying I don’t want to be physical. But I just thought I should put that out there, so you knowwhere I’m at, and if it changes anything for you tonight, I completely understand.No hard feelings.
I reread my message. It’s to the point—I don’t want to play games with him. Or get there and have things get weird because we had different expectations for what the night would bring.
I hit send.
I glance down at my menu, and my stomach swirls with anxiety. Suddenly coffee feels like a bad idea.
Within seconds I see he’s typing. I hold my breath as I wait for Caleb’s message to drop in. Finally, it does:
For the record, I planned on breaking out the shrimp foam sweets and not condoms.
I stare at his reply. I’m relieved. Amused. But also surprised.
Another message quickly drops in:
Okay, being serious now. I wasn’t planning on sex tonight, Isla. I mean, if you would have insisted on having sex, I could have been convinced to give it a go just for you (JK). I just want more alone time with you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I was with you in that conference room.