Page 26 of Falling Fast
‘Right.’ Leif meets my gaze again, his own darker than before. ‘Are you sure you don’t need any help tidying up?’
‘No, don’t worry.’ Without thinking I lift a hand, wiping away a smudge of flour on his cheek that’s been bothering me for the past five minutes. It’s only a split second later that I realize how inappropriate I’m being.
‘I mean, it’s fine.’ I clear my throat briskly. ‘We’ve got this.’
‘OK.’ He hesitates, like he’s about to say something, before he turns away. ‘Thanks for the lesson, Simone.’
‘You’re welcome.’ She waves goodbye. ‘And good luck this weekend!’
‘That was so fun. I really appreciate you coming,’ I say to her once they’ve gone. ‘I think it went really well.’
‘Not so much for Leif.’ She laughs good-naturedly. ‘But he was distracted.’
‘Do you think?’ I start to gather up bowls and spoons. Maybe I shouldn’t have set up this challenge so close to the Grand Prix. He was probably wanting to get back to the simulator the whole time.
‘Ava, didn’t you notice the way he kept looking at you?’ She gives me a knowing smile.
I’m so surprised I almost drop a waffle iron on to my toes. The idea that Leif might actually choose to look at me, that he might not find me entirely objectionable, is both new and, frankly, unbelievable. If his dislike wasn’t blindingly obvious to Simone, it’s because he’s learning to tolerate me, that’s all. Just like I’m learning to tolerate him.
‘Oh no,’ I protest. ‘He was looking at the camera. He’s not very comfortable in the spotlight.’
‘If you say so.’ Her voice is teasing. ‘But in my professional opinion, the only reason his waffles are burnt is because he couldn’t take his eyes off you.’
With Leif Olsen and Corey Hammond finishing seventh and eleventh at Spa-Francorchamps last weekend, it seems that Rask Racing have finally found their form. They might not be championship contenders yet, but thanks to some new upgrades they’re heading in the right direction. Bastian Aalto must be heaving a huge sigh of relief.
@MotorsportEchoNews, 18 June
NINE
‘WE HAVE A PROBLEM!’ Vienna announces, marching into the office where Charlotte and I are working on a content plan for the Hungarian GP. We’re also trying to liaise with Emika, who’s already in Budapest coordinating magazine and TV interviews. Having Hungarian maternal grandparents makes Corey one of the most popular drivers on the grid this weekend, so we decided to take advantage by sending both him and Leif straight there to do press after Belgium.
‘If it’s that the coffee machine is broken, we already know.’ Charlotte lifts her head with a reproachful look.
‘Is it? Fuck.’ Vienna drops into a chair. ‘How are we supposed to run a Formula 1 team when we can’t even get a coffee machine to work?’
‘One of the engineers is coming to fix it soon,’ I reassure her. ‘We just have to survive until then.’
‘In the meantime, I’m caffeine-deprived.’ Charlotte pretends to shudder. ‘Somebody should probably send me home before I pass out.’
‘Nobody’s going home, especially now.’ Vienna’s tone is ominous. ‘Yuto is sick. Gastroenteritis.’
‘Ew.’ Charlotte cringes. ‘Wait, he didn’t get it from here, did he?’
‘No. He was only in yesterday and he says he didn’t go to the canteen. The point is that he’s definitely not well enough to come to Hungary with me this afternoon. So which of you is going to be his replacement?’
‘One of us?’ I sit up straighter.
‘Yes. Leif’s diary is all set up, so you’d just need to be his minder for the next few days. You know – record everything he says to the press so we can prove if he’s misquoted afterwards, and make sure he gets everywhere he needs to go. Emika will be minding Corey and I’ll be doing trackside content capture, so you won’t be alone.’
I feel my pulse accelerate because it sounds so exciting … and if it were any other driver I’d be biting Vienna’s hand off to go, but the thought of spending the next four days with a stony-faced Norwegian isn’t hugely appealing. Plus I’m still faintly mortified about touching his cheek last week. What if I do something else stupid?
‘You should do it,’ I say to Charlotte. ‘You’ve been here longer.’
‘I would …’ Her expression wavers. ‘Only I have a bridal fitting on Saturday, and if I cancel it’ll be months before I can get another appointment.’
‘Then I guess it’s you.’ Vienna swivels towards me. ‘Unless you have some kind of urgent dress emergency as well?’
‘No.’ I’m still hesitant. ‘But I thought I was supposed to cover the desk here this weekend?’
