Throttled

He chuckles as his almond-shaped eyes look into mine. “I hope I won’t have to put up with this attitude all season long. I can’t keep up with your teenage hormones.”

“You're a year older than me. Relax with throwing the teenager word around. Any hormone issues are a thing of the past. I’m twenty-three, not fifteen.”

His body shudders. Good. That’s what he gets for not thinking through his words. He needs to watch what he says since film crews will follow him around all the time.

He gets up and wipes down his gym equipment because that’s the kind of guy he is: put-together, organized, and responsible. Respectable people clean their workout equipment, making sure to put everything back where it belongs, while people like me never enter the gym to begin with.

Where Santi’s dependable and secure, I tend to have good intentions with poor execution. I respect my brother’s life decisions, but I’m in a transitional phase at the moment. So I get to travel the world, learn about myself, and grow up. Our family knows I have to pull it together eventually. And I most definitely will. But like a fine wine, I’m taking my time.

My time includes sipping drinks by the pool while Santi competes across the globe in twenty-one different races. No, I’m kidding. Like any other decent European, I love F1, which means I’ll cheer him on every step of the way, or wheel rotation. But you get what I mean.

My brother and I did everything together while growing up. His kart races were what we all did as a family activity, and no one was shocked when he became an F1 racer—all at a world-record-breaking age of twenty-one years old. I can’t imagine the gratification Santi experiences knowing that Bandini realizes his potential and wants to capitalize on it. His new contract reinforces his lifetime efforts in the racing community, representing a new chapter in his driving career.

Basically, my big bro has the talent and drive. Pun intended.

It’s in Santi’s weight room that I make a promise to him.

“I solemnly swear I’ll be up to good.”

His eyebrows draw together. “Did you quote Harry Potter to me?”

“Not really. I changed it up so it’s all me.”

He snickers at me. “You’re a piece of work.”

Oh, sweet brother of mine, don’t we both know it.

Our parents show up an hour later for Sunday di

“All your hard work has paid off, including those long days on the dirt tracks before you moved up to the big leagues with the Formula divisions. We appreciate all the sacrifices you made, including school.” My dad tips his glass before taking a sip of his drink.

Our parents like to share their appreciation for everything Santi has done since he gained his massive contract with Bandini, including paying off the rest of their mortgage, setting up a savings account for them, and sending them on a vacation. More selfless acts from him. An uncontrollable pang of jealousy runs through me at his ability to care for our family. The uncertainty of never living up to anything he does intimidates me. His success makes me happy—don’t get me wrong—but I’m nervous about not accomplishing anything close to his greatness.

“We can’t wait to visit Bandini when you compete in Barcelona for your home race.” My mom claps her hands, a gesture I tend to copy. Her eyes shine under the chandelier in Santi’s dining room while her brown hair flows around her.

Santi smiles at our parents. “I can’t wait to be back and competing in Spain. Home races are the biggest races for drivers.”

We all clink our glasses to Santi’s words.

“It’s great that you’ll follow him around and keep him company. I’m sure it’s lonely on the road. Plus, you’ll have your vlog,” Mom says between bites of her food.

I love her for including me in the conversation. She supports my whole process, sending me different articles and videos about marketing myself while building an audience.

I don’t intend on following him around from country to country because that’s lame. My ideas mean something to me, but vlogs can’t compare to driving around in the fastest and most expensive cars in the world.

“I can film everything because Santi bought me a camera. Hopefully I meet people along the way and make co

“We’re happy you are going with him. Your mom and I worry about you and hope you find your way. Use that communications degree to its fullest potential.” My dad runs a hand through his gray hair. He means well, and since my previous track history isn’t the greatest, I can’t judge him for it. Doubt seeps into my bones at his comment, but I push it away.

“Santi’s lucky his life pa

“I went over a few ground rules with Maya, you know, to keep her out of trouble. God forbid I find her drunk and crying on a bathroom floor to a Jonas Brothers song.”

I throw my cloth napkin at Santi. “That happened one time! It was my birthday and they had just a

Everyone chuckles at the table.

“And I told her not to hand her camera over to random strangers because of the last incident.” Santi’s eyes shine with humor.

I withhold the urge to roll my eyes. “How was I supposed to expect that a random guy would run off with my phone when we asked for a picture? Who even does that? It goes against every code of ethics ever written.” To be fair, some situations are a consequence of me being in the wrong place at the wrong time, while trusting a shady person.

“People without morals, that’s who. You should be careful with those types when you’re gone. People need to go to church more.” My mom does a sign of the cross for good measure.

Leave it to my mom to think religion will solve everything. Bless her heart.

I enjoy the rest of di

Because you know what’s worse than complaining about your big brother?

Complaining about a big brother who is so damn perfect all the time.