𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂, max verstappen ✓

iv. decisions

"yeah," max and isabel agreed bluntly.

"christian and alicia are over your shit," tori cut in. "like, this has been going on a few years too many."

"your incessant fighting has got to a point where it's not only just impacting your careers, but it's putting the whole of the sport into a danger zone," will continued, his arms crossed. "the publicity especially is fucking appalling." yeah, it definitely felt like being disciplined by a disappointed parent.

"your teams are more than okay with you two losing your seat," tori added. "they gave you an ultimatum last year, but after your shared behaviour at this grand prix, they've realised that it's gonna take a lot more than a warning to get you guys to quit it."

"what are you saying?" max asked.

"you two are the future of formula one," tori answered. "rivalries are fine until it gets to the point that you two are at. god, the public thinks you're gonna get each other killed!" she paused for a second to collect her thoughts. "so we've come up with an idea on how we can salvage your careers, and no, you do not get a choice unless you want to lose your seat."

"okay . . ." isabel said slowly, leaning back in her chair as if it would brace herself against whatever tori and will were going to say.

"christian and alicia have decided to give you until around round seven or eight to stop all the bullshit," will said. "so we thought, 'what better way for the max and isabel to learn to get over it' by deciding that you two are required to share a hotel room for every single round."

isabel swore her heart stopped beating. "excuse me?" she asked, voice unnaturally quiet as the words sunk in. that can't be allowed . . . right?

"huh?" max glanced up at will from where he was sitting. "there's no way that's something that just happens."

"oh, it is now," tori smiled widely at the two. "if you really care about this stupid shit between you two more than your incredibly successful careers, then by all means, have your own hotel room and end up a contract short. or you could do what we're suggesting and hope that it cures all our headaches."

"and what if it doesn't?" isabel dared to ask as she tapped her fingers against the table. this is a terrible idea, her knee bounced under the table. what about personal space? what about having time to unwind? how is this remotely fair?

"then you didn't try hard enough," will shrugged, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. "it'll work if you commit to it rather than put in no effort. work out what works for you."

max looked like he'd seen a ghost. he'd removed his cap from his head, leaving his messy hair to fall against his forehead as he rubbed at his face. "as long as the hotel has two beds i don't care," he settled for. formula one came first to him, and if this is what he needed to do to at least pretend things were fine, then he would do it in a heartbeat.

"of course," tori agreed. "even if after this you can't call yourselves friends, at least you'll hopefully have some sort of respect for each other as racers. remember, a rivalry is fine as long as it isn't to the toxic extent that it's currently at."

it took everything in isabel not to slam her head down onto the pristine table in front of her. there was no way this had any sort of good ending, right? having isabel leclerc and max verstappen in a close proximity was like waiting for a bomb to go off: one wrong move and everything would turn to shit.

sighing, isabel glanced over at the pr managers. "fine, alright," she gave in, refusing to look anywhere near max.

tori's smile was blinding and isabel didn't like it one bit. "then it's settled!"