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Now, I’m irritated because I couldn’t watch Adrian, Valentina, Gabriel, James, and Lincoln fight it out for the top five places.
“Come on,” I mumble to myself when Valentina slips into James’ slipstream and the flap of her DRS opens. There are only three laps left, and she’s trying to overtake James, who’s struggling in fourth with old tires. He’s had them on for too long, which caused a lot of degradation that’s slowing him down now. His tire strategy for this race was far from ideal.
She slips beside him, almost overtaking him when James breaks later than her and manages to stay ahead.
My lungs burn, reminding me to take a breath instead of holding it.
Adrian is shown a second later, and I barely keep from complaining that they switched the view during such an intense battle when I watch him go so wide, a cloud of gravel floats into the air from his tires.
That mistake closes the time gap he was building between himself and Gabriel to a little over a second.
Shit, that’s not good.
Lincoln is right behind them, too, his car looking like a bullet shot out of a gun, all sleek and dangerous. I’m a big fan of the dark gray they went with this year, something new the Grenzenlos team was trying out. I didn’t think I’d like it when Papa first told me about it, but they made it work.
Nothing compares to the deep red Velocità Rossa has chosen though. I like the papaya color from Spark too, and the combination of red and blue Hawke went with. Alfa Adrenalina chose a mix of red, black, and white that I’m also a big fan of.
Focusing on the colors helps me ease the building anxiety in my chest. It distracts from the fact that Lincoln is inching closer to Gabriel, and Gabriel is inching closer toward Adrian and my brain is just swimming in dread at this point.
When the last lap comes around, I debate whether turning around and not watching is the better option. It’s only the first race of the season, so in the grand scheme of things, it’s not that important, but itfeelsimportant. It feels like each of these drivers is out there proving themselves and setting the mood for the rest of the reason.
Val has already out-driven everyone in the mid-field and lower teams, her car is currently in fourth place. A wave of pride hits me in the chest for her, but it’s replaced by worry the moment Lincoln attempts to overtake Gabriel.
One lap has never felt so long in my entire life. Lincoln is relentless. He fights for Gabriel’s place, using DRS to get enough speed advantage to overtake him in the main straight and finish the race in second place.
I can’t help the excitement bubbling inside my chest at the sight of Adrian crossing the finish line first, Lincoln following closely behind him.
Celebrations break out everywhere, but Gillian demands my attention, telling me to get a grip on myself—yeah, fuck him—and barks at all of us to get out there and ready for the round of interviews.
We will be interviewing Lincoln, Kyle, Gabriel, and Adrian only, just as we have done the rest of the weekend, too.
I asked Gillian a few days ago whyGriffin Sportsdecided to do this, and he said, “There are so many sports media companies out there, we needed something to set us apart. The rest of them can take the midfield teams and perhaps a few questions for the top two teams, but it’s us who get the exclusive interviews with Velocità Rossa and Grenzenlos now. It’s us that the majority of the fans will watch.”
I didn’t agree with him then, but I didn’t say as much aloud. It’s not my company, therefore it’s not my decision, but there must be another way to getGriffin Sportsexclusive content from the drivers to get the fans’ attention.
It takes a while for our drivers to make it to the area where the post-race interviews are held. It’s shaped into a circle with all of the reporters behind the barriers and the drivers and their PR managers on the other side.
Gillian left me standing here by myself because he doesn’t think they’re going to be here any time soon, taking care of a problem that arose, but Mr. Romana has a way of surprising everyone, including myself.
Adrian is the first of the top three to be here, all of the reporters surrounding us calling out to get his attention.
There’s a bright smile on his full, pink lips and his hair is perfectly wet and curly. He must have just taken a shower to get rid of the champagne they spray on each other during the celebrations.
His eyes catch mine from across the interview pit, and somehow, I don’t know how but his smile gets even bigger.
I can’t help but return it.
Adrian’s PR manager tries to get his attention, but he makes his way toward me without glancing her way. He appears hypnotized by me. Nothing else seems to matter until he’s in front of me. He asks his PR manager, Fatima, to give him a second before turning back to me and clearing his throat. His smile reappears as he holds out his hand, waiting for me to shake it.
“Congratulations on your win, Mr. Romana. The car really came alive on this track,” I say, and he tilts his head at me.
“Just the car?” he challenges, smirking until a blush settles on my cheeks.
“The carandyou,” I correct. Adrian places his hands against the barrier keeping us apart and nods in approval.
“There you go,mon ange, that’s better,” he praises, turning my cheeks an even darker red.
“What an impressive race,” I say to steer the conversation away from making me blush, and he beams down at me, taking pride in my words.
