Adrenaline

44 | championship leader

        "Yeah, that was kind of a bummer."

        "Kind of?" I scoff. "It was a major bummer. You could've gotten P2 if they hadn't fucked up. Hell, you could've gotten first."

        Staying level-headed when faced with unfair decisions that negatively affect him is one of Brendon's strongest suits. Still, there are times when getting frustrated and letting people know you're frustrated is perfectly reasonable, and this is one of those times.

        Even the team knew it. Though they were there to celebrate Idris' podium finish, you could see they were disappointed with how Brendon's race finished through no fault of his own. They've been excellent all season and no one will take that away, but it does suck to see such careless mistakes being made so close to the end of a season with the drivers' championship still up in the air.

        "I know. But people make mistakes. It's fine. Safety cars don't always work out in your favor. No use worrying about something I can't change. Just gotta keep pushing to do better next week."

        It sucks that I can't be there for him right now. Brendon claims that I'm his good luck charm since he finishes every race I go to on the podium, but since he finishes most of them on the podium, regardless of my attendance, I call bullshit. He's just that good; it has nothing to do with me.

        "Would be nice to have my good luck charm there next week, though," he says after I'm silent for too long, lost in my train of thought.

        "It would be nice, wouldn't it?" I joke.

        Truth is, I've had my plane tickets booked for a couple of weeks now, along with the rest of MARS who all want to go to show their support. Marty even reached out to Geoff to ensure we had all of the right access to get the best view of the race above the garages. Brazil always shows up for their Grand Prix, and tickets have been sold out since the beginning of the season. What little tickets anyone could find being sold online were going for outrageous prices due to the demand that Idris' and Brendon's standings in the championship gives them. It's only been two days since the last race and Twitter is already flooding with predictions about how the final race of the season is going to go.

        "Babe—" he laughs.

        "You can tell me to fuck off if you want but can we maybe talk about it?" I ask, ignoring his whining.

        "About what, specifically?"

        I shrug. "How you're feeling. What's going through your head. I get you're trying to keep your head in the game and all but...I want you to know I'm here, regardless of what's happening internally or externally."

        As his Stevie, he should know better than to lie to me. So I have to scoff when he replies, "I haven't thought about it much."

        "You're so full of shit."

        Brendon looks at me through the screen like he's hopelessly in love. Suppose it's true. He told me himself. "Oh, how the turns have tabled, huh?"

        "Maverick, when did you get here?"

        "We text, you know."

        I narrow my eyes. "About what?"

        "I'm not telling you. Everleigh is a good therapist too. I get why MARS loves using her services."

        "Why is this the first time I'm hearing yall are besties—"

        He leans back in his seat and angles the phone higher to keep himself in frame. "It's a lot all at once. I don't even know where to begin."

        "Can I tell you something? I promise I'm not trying to make this about me. I just want you to know that I understand. To some extent."