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I think I want to be friends with her even more than I want to be friends with her brother, but that’s probably because I’d very much like to be different kinds of friends with Adrian.
Valentina is standing in the lobby of my hotel wearing jeans that are slightly ripped at the thighs but not revealing any skin, red sneakers, and a matching blouse, and a perfect smile on her lips, which are identical to Adrian’s. Her outfit is simple, but she pulls it off. Her dirty-blonde hair sits in perfect curls on her head, framing her face and falling effortlessly down her back. She’s trained but curvy, shorter than me by about ten centimeters, and absolutely breathtaking.
She reminds me so much of Adrian, I can’t keep the smile off my face.
When she catches me walking toward her, Val’s face lights up. My heart flutters because I can’t remember the last time anyone was so genuinely excited to see me. I smile back at her and go to hug her.
“It’s really nice to see you again,” I say first, stepping back to look into her eyes, the same as Adrian’s. There is a zero percent chance I won’t see him in every single feature of hers, but, for now, I don’t mind it.
If anything, I like it more than I should.
“The feeling is mutual. Are you ready to go?” she asks, angling her arm so I can hook mine through hers.
Happiness consumes me, causing the smile on my face to remain the entire cab ride to the museum. We share casual stories about ourselves, but I’ve never been one for small talk, and I won’t pretend to be now. One specific question pushes to the top of my mind, and I ask it before I can stop myself.
“You probably get this a lot, but how did you stay so strong when fighting to drive in Formula One? The misogynists built barriers, and yet, you kept pushing. How? If you don’t mind my asking.” I add the last sentence because I realize this is a lot more personal than I meant for it to be.
If I’m being honest with myself, I envy her for accomplishing what was impossible for me. Achieving your dream. Getting everything you worked so hard for. Living the life you envisioned for yourself.
Valentina turns to me with a small grin, assuring me I didn’t overstep any boundaries.
“Adrian, actually. He gave me strength, and, every time I wanted to give up, he pushed me to believe in myself. All the failed attempts and opportunities didn’t matter to him. With his help and connections, we tried over and over again, fought for my place in a driver’s academy. Eventually, the Velocità Rossa academy took me in, I got to prove myself, and now, I race for Alfa Adrenalina.”
Alfa Adrenalina belongs to Velocità Rossa. It makes sense that she got a seat with them after impressing every single person at the driver’s academy. I don’t have to ask them to know if it's true. Valentina was called upon as a reserve driver twice last year, racing once for Gabriel and once for Adrian. The second one didn’t end so well, and I cringe at the reminder, but the first time did. She kicked ass. As soon as the first race was done, I read everything there was to read about her. Getting accepted into an F3 team, a subcategory of Formula One. Getting kicked out of the team for no apparent reason. Doing test drives and setting amazing lap times but getting rejected. Getting a spot at the Velocità Rossa Driver Academy.
The way Adrian supported her also makes me like him more, and that’s a big problem.
“Then again, I’m just amazing, so maybe that’s why,” Val adds and laughs.
“I know you mean it as a joke, but I’ve read a lot about your journey into F1, and I think you are incredible. You’re a role model to every girl in the world who gets told they can’t make it because of their gender. It’s incredible, admirable, and one of the reasons why you’re my favorite driver,” I inform her and watch as tears fill her eyes, making them sparkle.
I’m about to apologize when she speaks.
“Shit, I’m crying on our first friend-date. So not cool,” she says, but we both chuckle in response.
Her fingers glide underneath her eyes as she wipes the effect of my words away.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Valentina shakes her head, making her curls dance with each left-to-right movement.
“You didn’t, you just made me a very happy and proud woman. Thank you,” she replies and grabs my hand to give it a quick squeeze. “But don’t say kind things like that again unless you want me bawling my eyes out,” Valentina warns, so I offer her a warm smile.
“Okay, promise.”
Soon after, Valentina and I make our way through the Bahrain National Museum, studying the nine different halls and taking in all of the history hiding inside the artwork displayed.
We discuss it like we’re both art experts, but we’re really just pointing out things we love and grinning when the other person attempts to say something very sophisticated about the piece but neither one of us quite manages the proper language for it. We’re having a good time trying though, and the artifacts truly are breathtaking. They’re complex and unique, each one more mesmerizing than the last.
Val and I both stare at the artifacts hung in one hall for a long time.
“You know, Gabriel is an artist too, but he mostly just draws me. Every different position and facial expression of mine he has to capture. I think we could fill an entire room with all of the sketches and paintings he’s made of me over the winter break alone,” she says, a smile lighting up her features as she shares something so incredibly sweet about the man she loves.
“I love that,” I reply, and she takes my hand to lead me toward the next painting of animals drinking water. “Do you draw too?” I ask, trying to get to know her a little better.
“No, I’m very uncreative, but I did start a driver academy with Leonard Tick, so that’s my creative outlet. Well, in a way,” she says, placing a hand on the necklace around her chest. The charm is a Formula One car with the number seven carved into it. Gabriel’s number.
“‘Kids Like Us.’ I’ve read so much about it, even though the academy hasn’t even opened yet. It’s remarkable,” I say while turning my head to watch a blush settle on her cheeks.
“Thank you.” She grins and bumps her hip against mine in a friendly manner. “How about you? Adrian told me you’re an incredible photographer,” she says, making it my turn for heat to fill my cheeks.
