The Undercut | Max Verstappen

chapter 6

"It's alright, I've got it." the older man replied.

I was sort of baffled at the sudden hospitality, but then again, I'd never seen Max outside a racing environment. I had no idea how he behaved at home, or how he operated outside of high pressure situations. He seemed more at ease here, which made sense, and part of me felt bad that we were going to disrupt his peace and quiet. 

Walking inside the home, I tried to be discrete and not gawk at everything. It wasn't an obnoxious kind of luxury, although you could clearly tell everything here cost more than my entire monthly rent back in London. And let me tell you, rent in London is expensive. To the right there was a huge cream colored L-shaped sofa full of fluffy looking pillows, it wrapped around the tall white walls and faced a 70 inch flat screen TV. In front of where I stood by the entrance there was a 10 person dining table made of what looked like dark mahogany wood (or you know, just any other kind of rich people wood), overlooking floor-to-ceiling glass sliding doors that led to the greenest grass I had ever seen in her life, and a huge pool in the middle surrounded by a trail of stepping stones. The house had an open concept so on the left there was a huge dark toned kitchen, black marble countertops and a matching island, black furniture, black appliances and the largest refrigerator I'd ever stood in front of.

"Your rooms are down that hallway, you can choose who takes which." Max explained, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he took a seat on one of the stools by the kitchen island. "I'm going to be out all day today, I've got a training session with Brad. So you two can get settled down as you want, the house is yours too, I guess." he spoke, eyes refusing to meet mine, as if for some reason it was killing him to be in my mere presence. As if I was making him uncomfortable just by standing in his living room. As if either of us had had much of a choice.

"Can we install the cameras while you're gone? That will give us something to do. We'll let you know where they are when you get back." asked Nick.

Max simply nodded, ocean blue eyes finally falling into my grey ones. "Welcome to Monaco." he said, his lips upturning the faintest bit, unsettling me for some reason.

It was as if I'd lost my words. As I wracked my brain for a good three seconds before I realized I didn't know how to be civil with Max, not when the feelings of inadequacy still washed over me like a rainstorm every time I found myself staggering and vulnerable under his burning gaze. That was the truth. The start to my dream job hadn't gone as expected. I wasn't getting along with my first subject. I felt nervous every time I sat behind the camera and had to ask him questions, especially since his oh-so-blunt jab at how unprepared and under qualified he thought I was for the job. My anxiety was only increased by his comments and so every time I find myself being looked at by him it's as if my brain turns into mush and I'm suddenly too worried about saying the wrong thing and having him believe I'm a complete and utter fraud. And if the guy whose reputation I'm trying to save doesn't believe I can do it, then why should the public? I hated him for undervaluing me without even knowing anything about me. And I hated myself even more for overthinking this so hard.

I stood there paralyzed under his stare until he tore it from me mere seconds later, moving to the end table placed by the door, grabbing his phone and his keys and turning around to look at us one last time. "If you need anything just text me and I'll let the concierge know." he told Nick. And then he was gone.

"What's it with you and the kid, huh?" Nick asked right away as soon as the door was closed.

"What do you mean?" I asked in pure confusion.

"He distracts you, I can tell. You're not yourself when he's around." he said. "Has he done something? You know, to make you feel so uncomfortable." the fatherly concern was clear in his voice.