After I’ve placed my helmet on, my team gives me the green light to get into the car. I adjust until I find the perfect position in the seat that was molded specially for my body. My heartbeat is steady, my breathing even, and my work mode is activated in my head. All my worries vanish as my team starts bombarding me with information and telling me what to get ready for.
The first tier of Qualifying, Q1, is about to start. After that, only fifteen drivers remain. Q2, the tier afterward, takes out five more drivers, and in Q3, the top ten drivers fight for pole. The one to get pole gets to start from first place tomorrow for the race. I’ve taken two out of three poles this season, but I plan on making it three today. I may not feel much when I win races anymore, but I’m still competitive as hell.
Just like Chiara.
I’m buying myself a new subconscious as soon as I kick my teammate’s arse.
* * *
Pole was an easy win yesterday.Jonathan, my teammate, fucked up his fast lap, basically handing me the position without putting up a fight. Fine by me. The real task is winning today’s race. As important as Qualifying is, anything can happen during a race. A driver can start from last place and end up first by the time they cross the finish line. Someone starting in first place can end up last because of pitstop problems, getting pushed off track during the race, or countless other reasons. Nothing is set in stone because of Qualifying. Absolutely nothing.
All the drivers are lined up to listen to the Austrian hymn when Adrian Romana comes up to me and places a hand on my shoulder. His usual smile rests on his lips, and he cocks an eyebrow at my serious face.
“It’s nice to see you too. Great job yesterday, by the way. I rewatched your lap, and it was phenomenal. A beauty,” he says, which makes me face him completely, a little surprised.
The other drivers don’t treat me kindly. None of them. I’m the guy who won a championship last year. I’mtheguyto beat. They have no reason to be friendly with me, but I don’t try to give them one either. I don’t need them to like me. The only people I do need in this sport are Quinn and my team.
“What? What did I say?” he asks, and I cock an eyebrow at him.
“Something nice. I’m not used to it,” I reply honestly before facing away from him. Adrian lets out a short, awkward laugh.
“Yeah, I know what you mean, but I don’t like how the other drivers treat you. You’re an incredible driver, and that isn’t something to be jealous about. It’s something to look up to, and I do.”This kid.I shake my head, offering him a softer look, one that hardly ever crosses my face during a race weekend, except when I’m in private.
“That’s kind of you to say,” is all I respond because this kid is warming a part of me that was frozen over a long time ago, and I feel the urge to run.
“Anytime. I hope you know now you do have a friend in this sport. In case you ever get lonely, you can always hang out with me. I’m phenomenal company,” he says, his comment tugging on the corners of my mouth. I fight off the amusement, but he notices. “Ha, that’s progress. Oh yeah. You like me too, that’s good to know,” he says with a happy grin, so I simply shake my head and nudge him in the side. He lets out a sharp breath in response before bursting into laughter.
“You’re alright, kid, but you’ve got a long way to go until I start liking you,” I say, earning me a cocky smirk from him.
“Haven’t met a single person who didn’t like me yet.” And I can see why. Adrian is extremely likable. He’s charming and charismatic, funny too. “You’re not going to wreck my streak, mate, I won’t let you.” I shake my head again, fighting back a sigh because I won’t be wrecking his streak. I like him. He’s nice to me, and not many people are in this sport.
We listen to the Austrian hymn, and afterward, Adrian shakes my hand and wishes me good luck for the race. I’m still trying to wrap my head around his kindness when Jonathan Kent steps in front of me, ready to fight.
“Try not to push me out of the first corner again, Tick.”
I push past him because I’m in no fucking mood to argue over racing incidents. I took full responsibility for what happened during the third corner of the first race after I rewatched the footage. I apologised to him, something I’m not required to do but thought would be the right thing. He’s been on my arse so much, I’ve been regretting showing him any human decency and sportsmanship.
“Move out of my fucking way, Kent,” I say when that prick steps right in front of me again.
“I know cheating is the only way you can win, but it’s getting pathetic now,” he replies, and since he’s several centimetres shorter than me, he widens his stance to appear larger. It achieves nothing he obviously meant for it to. I’m not frightened. I’m not going to cave in. I’m not doing anything he hoped for. Instead, I get close to him, staring into his transparent eyes before slowing my words enough for him to understand.
“Let’s take this onto the track. We will see who the better driver is,” I say and walk past him, hitting my shoulder against his as a final warning.
By the time I get back to Quinn, she’s holding out some water for me. I take several sips, trying to calm my racing heart. I hate confrontations with Jonathan. Robert Fuchs, the Mercedes team principal and my boss, has been on our arses to behave, and I don’t like disappointing him.
“There is something you should see. It’ll cheer you up,” Quinn says and hands me my phone.
At first, I don’t look at the screen. I’m too busy trying to decipher her happy facial expression. She doesn’t let on anything, so I bring my gaze to whatever has her in a good mood. My heart stops beating altogether at the sight of Benz in my Mercedes team shirt and Chiara next to her, her arm around my daughter. Naturally, that hand is also holding up a middle finger and the serious look on her face is there, but Benz is smiling at the camera. She’s showing me how happy she is to be spending time with her best friend, and I can’t help but feel my insides turn. Not in a bad way though…
Chiara
Benz wanted to wish you good luck and remind you to be safe out there. I didn’t want to, but she insisted.
Sometimes this woman can be so full of shit. It brings a slight smile to my lips, but I kill it quickly. Another message appears on the screen.
Chiara
Seriously though. Drive safe, stronzo. I still need to make fun of you for running naked through your neighborhood when you were twelve. Yeah, your mum just told me, and it’s fucking hilarious. Can’t wait to see you when you get back and milk the fuck out of that embarrassing story.
