Racing Hearts | F1 Romance|

Chapter 7 - Araceli

I wanted to scream.

My mother would be more stressed about the fact that I would get wrinkles. But I couldn't care less. Louis Maes has some agenda against me, a girl he barely met recently.

Does he do this with everyone? All the new reporters? Usually, they are elder men. Not. . . Well not me.

I don't know how to explain it. I met this man three days ago, and he acts as if I've known him for years. When I was around Alejandro, he never talked racing or traveling. If I didn't know who he was, I would have just guessed his 'normal' job had him traveling almost every week and he got about three months off.

He never mentioned his racing buddies. Only Duchie. Duchie talked more about the races than Alejandro. My brother, all he wanted was to forget about driving and racing when he got home.

When I went to the tracks, or traveled a week or two with Alejandro, I barely paid attention to the people around. Everyone knew me, calling me little 58 (my brothers racing number). One of his racing friends, Ricky Visser, told me at one point that my brother constantly talks about me.

"Hey angel," Ollie says, walking into the garage. "You ok?" When I turn, his face immediately changed to concern. I wondered how I looked for him to think that.

Distressed? Confused? Very much caught off guard by Louis' words.

"Yeah, just excited for my first post-game interviews," I plaster my fake smile. "Congrats on both racers getting podium."

I knew this would redirect the conversation. "It was hard, the beginning laps were stressful. Especially when Landon started P13 and went P3 in 17 laps."

He continued to babble on about the race and highlights as if I didn't watch it myself. As I got lost admiring the room around me, tuning out the talking, I caught the growing smirk on Ollie's face.

"Your brother was very tone deaf, I'm starting to think your the same," Ollie's laugh was bubbly, different from the loud, mad dude that everyone else experiences. I'm so thankful for Ollie taking me in like I was his own kid all those years back.

I still remember that day. Alejandro was half way through his first year at Alveni, and I think I was about ten or so years old. Alejandro was on the path to champion, and I was sad because my father bailed on me again that day. Alejandro let me spend the week with him in Barcelona for the Spanish Grand Prix.

Ollie found me sitting on the couch with a book in my hand, but I wasn't reading. I just used it because I didn't want anyone to talk to me.

"Should you be here?" Ollie's stern ass asked.

I looked up, and even though Alejandro told me I could be here and if anyone asked to show my clearance pass, but Ollie had an aura that can scare anyone shitless.

"Y-yes. . . I think so. . ." My voice broke like a stupid kid. Alejandro was preparing for practice, so I was left alone. I didn't mind at the time, all I wanted was to be alone.

"You think so? Tell me, when someone asks you something, you don't respond with confidence?" He was asking it as if he wanted me to defy the words, tell him he was wrong.

"I try to," I mutter. I was ten, in a city I hated, heartbroken from my father bailing on seeing me; again. So I think I left my confident at home.

He nodded slowly, examining me. "Who are you?" He questions. He already eyed the clearance pass around my neck so he wanted me to answer.

It was such an Ollie thing. "Araceli Fernandez." Maybe I left all my talking skills at home for the trip. Usually, I was so good at speaking, captivating a crowd or just one person. Everyone thinks it's natural, but I learned it because I thought it would be able to persuade my father to see me more.