SHAMELESS, lewis hamilton¹

04

Today was the day—the Bahrain Grand Prix.

Thankfully, there hadn't been as much media that she had to deal with before the race. There were some interviews, of course. She was the pole sitter, of course there were interviews. But the day had passed by quickly, the sky turning darker and darker as the minutes ticked by.

Bahrain was a night race. In Mirabella's opinion night races were the best. She couldn't really explain it, but there was just something about the atmosphere of the day races that couldn't compare to the night races.

The parade had passed by quickly and Mirabella found herself in her car, rolling out of the pitlane and after the formation lap she parked at the front, everyone else behind her.

She couldn't help but turn her head to her right. She caught his eyes, feeling his intense glare and her grin was immediate. The two have shared many starts like this, and all the races were intense. It wasn't rare that chaos followed. But it was the first time a season would start off with her and Hamilton battling for the first position.

The second the man waved the green flag, her eyes flickered up to the red lights. One by one they came to life. Her blood pumped, and every sound blurred into nothingness. Her fingers tightened on her steering wheel and her foot moved up and down, barely touching the accelerator. Every strategy flickered through her head, trying to figure out the best way to keep her position, defending it from the World Champion that was placed diagonally behind her. All the lights were red and the adrenaline filled every crevice of her mind. She positioned her hand, ready to gear up and her foot stilled on the accelerator, her muscles tensing as she waited.

"Brand new season. A brand new dawn for Formula One. It's the Bahrain Grand Prix. And away we go!"

Mirabella shot past the finish line, the other drivers right behind her. She checked her mirrors and saw Hamilton literally right behind her, almost pushing into the rear end of her car trying to get past her. Her eyes narrowed ahead of her and Mirabella hit the apex as she turned into turn one, shooting straight through turn two and was still leading when she drove into the straight after turn three.

Mirabella held her position through the first eleven laps. But instead of a silver car decorated with yellow accents, there was a red Ferarri with the number 16 on it. Hamilton had dropped down to P11 after he pitted on lap eleven. So, Charles had moved up behind her with Max behind him again, but Hamilton was slowly making his way back up.

She had pitted on lap sixteen, and when she came back on the track she was P9. She made her way back up past Zhou, Yuki, George, Checo, Carlos, Max and Charles, and on lap twenty-two she was P2 right behind Hamilton.

Lap after lap, Mirabella and Hamilton battled against each other. She pushed him wide in a corner and then the next he overtook her again. The DRS was activated every time they came to the DRS zones, ending up with them fighting wheel to wheel to get the next turn first. Mirabella had to admit, she had cussed him out at least five times. Once on the radio by accident, since she had just spoken to Declan.

It was the forty-sixth lap and Declan's voice came through the radio just as she lost her P1 streak, which had lasted for six laps, "Double yellow. The safety car is being deployed."

Mirabella frowned. "What happened?"

"Gasly's car overheated and ended up catching fire."

Her stomach dropped, a sensation of dread filling the space, and she thickly swallowed as she asked, "Is he okay?"

It took a second before the answer came through, which did not help her at all, many horrible scenarios filling her head.

"Yes," Declan's voice finally came through again and she could breathe again. "He's fine."