twenty seven

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"Surely they won't let the race run." I talk lowly to Max who is standing beside me in the back corner of the garage, away from the prying eyes of the outside cameras.

"I think the FIA will try their hardest to force us out." He shakes his head, clearly in disapproval like myself.

The weather for the Belgian Grand Prix can always be a hit or miss, and this weekend has definitely been a miss. From the second we've arrived at the track each day, it's been down-pouring non stop, causing the racing conditions to be far from perfect.

With the amount of water sitting on the track I'm surprised they even started the race. We have been waiting in the garage for about 3 hours, expecting the FIA to just call this whole shambles off. At first they had forced us out in these conditions to line up on the grid, expecting the race to start as normal even when we couldn't see four feet in front of us - and that's without the spray from the other cars. However, after Lewis' car slid off in to the barrier uncontrollably on the formation lap, they decided to suspend it - their first right call of the day.

I used to love racing in Spa because the track is nothing short of iconic, but after what happened to Anthoine I could never feel the same about it. And I think that's why when I saw Lewis lose control of the car earlier it shook me to the point that I've still not yet recovered, hence why I'm hiding up in the back corner of the garage.

When I had finally gotten back the mechanics went straight to work on the car, knowing that there was still a chance for me to be sent back out. Whilst everyone was huddled around the machinery I took the chance to slip away and hide in the corner unnoticed, or so I thought. But the moment that I finally had taken a breath and looked up, Max was already there standing in front of me with concern covering his face. He didn't ask me what was wrong, something which I'm very grateful for because if he did I would've broken on the spot, but I think he knew that, which is why he didn't speak. Instead he had placed a hand on the side of my neck, forcing me to look in to his blue eyes whilst he searched mine to wordlessly see if I was alright. And once he did he used that hand to pull me forward in to a brief hug - long enough for me to breathe in his calming scent and feel his warmth but short enough that nobody nearby would notice.

He didn't say anything as he pulled away, nor did he force me to speak. Instead we stood there side by side observing the chaos of the Redbull garage together, with the loud noises distracting my bustling, overthinking brain, but the gentle bristle of Max's arm against mine distracting me even more.

We stood in silence watching for hours, occasionally having to interact with engineers or mechanics who approached us to talk over strategies or preferences, but we took the time to just enjoy each others presence until I was ready to speak.

"Sometimes I think that if they had a braincell between them then they would be dangerous." I take the moment to look up to him, seeing a small smirk twitch on his face.

"I'm sure they say the same thing about us." He moves his head to look down at me, smiling away.

"We're dangerous enough without them." I nudge his side lightly with my elbow, making his frame curve.

"Tell me about it. I mean you're dangerous enough - I've heard your singing."

My jaw drops in shock as his smile enlarged whilst a glint glows in his eyes. "At least it's not as dangerous as you after having some gin tonics."

"What's wrong with Greg?" He almost looks offended.

"What's wrong with Greg?" I ask incredulously, as if this man can't remember all of the fights that his alter ego and I had gotten in to. "How about the time last year when Greg decided to shout out at a drivers event that I had gotten period blood all over my dress, when in actual fact he had just spilled his red wine down my white Christian Dior dress? On purpose may I add. Or how about the time that he decided he wanted a piggy back from me, not using his brain to think that I was also drunk and struggling to stand in my 5 inch stilettos as it was?"

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