I take my time with the cool down lap to enjoy every last second of this amazing race and let the bike coast along the asphalt in third gear. Holy hell. Those last couple of laps around the Laguna Seca circuit were some of the hardest, most challenging and most satisfying I've ever had on two wheels. The cheers from the crowd probably aren't all for me, but I wave back and imagine they are. My heart is still pounding out of my chest and I'm soaked in sweat as I take the final turn before exiting the track. Losing all of my chill now at the thought of reaching the garage, I roll down pit lane the fastest I'm allowed without getting a penalty and brake hard at the Cadmium box. There's already a crowd, but after I jump off the bike I go straight to Dad. He's pretty hard to miss even among the techs and press. He's the one with his hands in the air and whooping in excitement.

"Another one for the history books, kid," he says, picking me up in a huge bear hug.

I wrap my arms around his neck as my feet leave the ground. Squeezing my eyes shut, I sniffle. Good thing I'm still wearing my helmet. The last thing I need is for the cameras to catch me bawling and have tomorrow's headlines be all about the emotionally fragile chick who also happens to be the first woman to score points in a World Road Racing Federation event. And not just one point, which was my goal with getting at least fifteenth place. If I saw the results board correctly, I smashed that by coming in nine spots higher.

"I'm so proud of you," Dad says, putting me down and stepping back. He grins as he wipes the corner of his eyes with the back of his hand, and my vision also suddenly becomes blurry.

Nigel saves me from a complete breakdown when he grips my glove with one hand while patting me on the shoulder with the other. "Bonzer performance! Half your luck, mate," he says with a huge smile. The Aussie slang usually gets stronger when he's either really angry or excited, and thankfully, today it's the latter.

I nod while pushing my visor up. "So it's official? I really did it?" The words come out ragged as I struggle to steady my breathing. I don't want to celebrate without confirmation.

"You sure did," Nigel says as cameras push into our faces. "Sixth place. Incredible. Just incredible."

"Lauren, can you—"

"Give me a minute, okay?" I cut off the reporter who'd stuck a mic out for a soundbite. The vultures can wait even if Nicola—standing behind Nigel and glaring at me with her patented 'what are you doing' stare—doesn't approve.

I've been waiting for this day for a long time, and there's no way I'm not sharing this with those who mean the most to me. Various members of the crew tap my helmet and pat me on the back as I inch toward the garage, and I return smiles, hugs, and high-fives. Between their heads, I catch a glimpse of Cam jumping up and down.

"Yasss queen!" she exclaims when I reach her. "You slayed out there."

I smile before we hug. "Living my best life, right?" I ask above all the noise.

"Hell yeah!" she yells, letting me go.

An arm wraps around me from behind. "You did good, babe," Tanner says, but I slip out of his hold. Having my friends around this weekend has been great, but not everyone knows he's a natural flirt, and I don't need any more misunderstandings, fake news, or tabloid fodder.

"Take these, will you?" I pull off my gloves and press them into his good hand. After undoing my chinstrap, I remove my helmet and ask Cam, "Is Seb—"

"He's in there." She doesn't wait for me to finish, nodding toward the garage. I was so focused on my own race I didn't pay attention to any of the other rankings. If Seb's here, that means he didn't place in the top three, but he only needed to come in at least twelfth and not trail Tobei by more than four, Dai by five, and Diego by six points to win the championship. I have no doubt he pulled it off, so he must just be taking a quick breather before facing the press.

I go in. Everyone but my teammate is outside, and we're alone—as alone as you can get with literally thousands of people just a few hundred feet away—for the first time in days. He's watching the post-race wrap-up on a monitor in the corner, but turns when I approach.

"You ride incredible today. I am very happy for you," he says.

Stopping in front of him, I waiver on whether to hug him—I mean, pretty much everyone else got one already, so why not—but he acts first. The kiss on the left side of my face is brief, but when he goes to do it again on the other side, he lingers. We're standing cheek-to-cheek and before he can step away, I throw my arms around his neck and nearly bash him in the ear with the helmet I'm still holding. When he grabs my waist with both hands and pulls me into a full hug, I almost lose it.

"Thank you," I say as tears again cloud my eyes. "I'm in total shock, quite frankly."

He gives me another squeeze and sighs before letting go. It's only then I notice the fine layer of dirt on his black suit. "What happened? How did you do?" I ask, fearing the answer.

Seb shrugs, but it's less of an 'I don't know' than an 'I'm not going to make a big deal out of it' move. "I pushed for the win, and it did not work out so good," he says, trying for a smile but looking more pained than anything else.

"But you got enough points, right?" My heart is already breaking at where this is going, which is definitely not where I expected it to end up an hour ago. He deserves that championship. It was well within his reach. It couldn't have been obliterated like this.

He shakes his head. "Fifth," he says.

"Fifth in the race or the series?" I ask, knowing that mathematically both are possible, but only one answer could still lead to a happy ending.

Fifth in the race means he crossed the finish line right before me. I don't know how many seconds were between us, so it's possible. I had my head down for most of the last lap, running my own race without care to anything else including who was behind or in front of me.

Fifth in the race means he got eleven points.

Fifth in the race is okay as long as only a select few people ended up ahead of him.

When Seb doesn't answer, I look at the TV. The picture-in-picture is showing the rankings for the race, along with the overall times. The letters BUT are next to the number one at the top. "Holy shit, Reid took first," I blurt out in surprise.

He's always been in the top ten, but since Malaysia Reid's best result was only fourth. He wasn't considered one of Seb's biggest threats, so I don't know off the top of my head if his twenty-five points with this win are enough to overtake my teammate in the cumulative total. Knowing the display will switch any second, I quickly read further down the list.

Watts got second. Martin third. Mura fourth.

Kojima isn't there, so that's good, but the others were all too close for me to do the mental math. Two seconds ago I still had hope, but now that's slipping away faster than slicks on a wet road.

"So who . . .?" I get choked up even trying to ask, but the screen switches to the final championship standings.

Seb's name is on the second line.

"No. Do not do that," he says, seeing my tears which are now flowing for a completely different reason than they were just minutes ago. "This is part of racing. I take a risk. I knew what can happen. I also wish it turn our different, but I am okay," he says in an effort to console me.

I sniffle, turning away from the television. While seeing Diego Martin's name right below Seb's for the final tally to be third overall in the world championships is satisfying, I still can't believe that Reid Butler's win today brought him out of nowhere—okay, from seventh according to the closed captioning—to be the new champ by just one—holy shit, one—damn point. "I'm sorry," I whisper, the happiness of my own achievement muted by the crush of Seb's disappointment. I so wanted both of us to succeed today, and there's an odd hopelessness inside me from knowing there's nothing I can do to change his outcome.

"You and your apologies." Seb smiles, taking my hands. Pulling me closer again, he looks into my eyes and leans his forehead against mine.

If he had meant to stop me from crying, he's doing a terrible job at it. His humility is having the opposite effect, and I have to close my eyes and take a deep breath to hold it together. I never imagined being both happy and sad at the same time, but there it is.

When the announcer begins to introduce the awards ceremony over the loudspeaker, we part and watch silently standing side-by-side. It's the usual drill. Within a span of minutes, the top-three finishers take their places on the podium, the Australian national anthem plays for the winner, and the governor of California helps give out the trophies. Reid Butler gets two. One for today's win and one for the overall championship. My heart aches. It should be Seb up there. After the requisite flowers and splashing of bubbly, the ceremony ends and they leave the terrace.

"If you guys are ready," Nicola says, coming to get us as the formalities die down. Behind her, a handful of reporters and cameras are clamoring for first dibs at our statements.

We walk out together, but get separated as different press outfits pull us away.

"Are those happy or sad tears?" asks a reporter, thrusting a microphone under my nose.

"Both, I guess." I laugh, wiping my cheek with my hand. "I had a great race and I'm thrilled to have come in sixth to earn my first point in WRRF. At the same time, I'm crushed Seb didn't take the championship. I thought he had it in the bag, so to come back and see the results . . . well, I actually wasn't prepared for this, to tell you the truth."

"He doesn't seem too disappointed." The woman nods toward Seb who's giving his own interview with a smile.

I want to ask how she thinks he should be acting, but I don't. She's probably trying to get a rise out of me, and I won't give her the satisfaction. "He's a professional, and I know he wouldn't have been completely satisfied to get the trophy by not giving it his all in this final race," I say, trying to reconcile his possible thinking with what ultimately happened. "My time with Cadmium has really been about stepping out of my comfort zone, and Seb's attitude has reinforced that. He doesn't settle for an easy result. He risks a sure thing if there's a chance for him to achieve something even better. It's been a good motivator for me to see that."

"You two have gotten quite close." It's a statement rather than a question.

A few months ago—hell, even a few weeks ago—I would have resented this blunt observation. Today, I accept it. "Yes, we have. He's a good guy," I say.

The reporter nods, possibly as a subtle nudge for me to elaborate. When I leave it at that, she continues. "Speaking of the end of your time with this team: do you know where you're going after this?"

Way to burst my bubble, lady. "No, I don't." I shake my head and move to the next outlet.