helmet love // 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬

XXVIII

"Fuck this man."

It's impossible to stay on Circuit Paul Ricard without being caught by cameras. They are everywhere, and I'm not just talking about professional cameras. I mean other sports channel cameras, press, phone cameras, they are everywhere. My biggest worry was the CCTV, as that's how I've been outed. I ended up going back to my hotel room with Brad, and we sat in dead silence the whole way.

I can't believe I was so careless. If I had just held off of going to Monte Carlo with Lando, none of this would have happened. I'm so pissed off that we rushed into it, like teenagers that can't their hands off of each other. 3 weeks! 3 fucking weeks! That's how long we've properly known each other, and we're in this state already! I knew Lewis for well over a year before it all kicked off, and that was nothing compared to this now!

"You can't kick yourself over this." Brad says, sitting down on the edge of my bed.

"Yes I can." I spit, snatching some of my own clothes from the wardrobe and storming to the bathroom. "I knew this would happen, and I did it anyway!"

"But do you regret it?" Brad asks.

"Yes!" I started shredding all of my dumb presenter clothes off of me, tossing it out the bathroom door and at the wall as hard as I can, pretending they're hitting past-me in the face. "Yes I do!"

A gazillion swear words tumble around my mind like a washing machine, coming together in absolute mush. It was a month straight of pure immaturity, believing that my life was going to be a walk in the park forever. From the matching tattoos to the stupid night at Hôtel Du Castellet, it was a huge cock up. I'm so fucking amazing at having the world of opportunities at my hands only to toss it away for something that's utterly unrealistic!

"Marci, you don't regret it, stop trying to convince yourself." Brad's voice cooes from the bedroom.

"Don't you dare tell me what to think!" I hiss, grabbing my make up remover and scrubbing my face as hard as I can.

"I'm telling you what to think because you're being so irrational!" Brad defends himself. "Whatever it is that you and Lando have, it's so obvious that-"

"We don't have anything!" My own words sting my heart. "We aren't fucking anything!"

I toss everything in my hands down, leaving my clothes, make up wipes, accessories and anything I was previously wearing everywhere. The bathroom looks like an explosion of my career, with the stupid outfit that Ally's stupid designer made me wear. They had me hidden the entire time, and I fell right into it. They made me believe I was allowed back on camera, when in reality they disguised me. I had to wear outfits that I'd never wear on sunny days like this, and cover parts of me that now make me me. And how much control Ally continues to have over it, it makes me sick!

"You and Lando have nothing, do you?" Brad's irritatingly calm voice rings through the apartment.

"Nope, we're just friends." I give him a short reply.

"Friends don't sleep with each other, Marci." Brad states.

"Friends don't make each other feel like shit, Brad." I mimic him, storming out of the bathroom.

"Where was this attitude when Ally was insulting you right in front your face?" Brad interrogates, getting up and narrowing his eyes. "You're always so happy to let this out on me, like I'm the one who caused it!"

"Oh fuck off." I scoff, shaking my head and looking away from him. "Just fuck off, get out."

"And leave you to tear this place apart?" Brad mutters, gesturing to the state of my room caused by storm Marci herself.