Waiting On You | 𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑶𝑺𝑪𝑨𝑹

6- Traitor

The next day dawned with the relentless assault of a pounding headache and the nauseating aftermath of a heavy hangover. Despite my attempts to alleviate the symptoms with the strongest medicines available, my body rebelled against me. I found myself doubled over in agony, vomiting until there was nothing left in my stomach. My complexion was pallid, and every movement sent waves of discomfort coursing through my body. A persistent burning sensation gnawed at my stomach, while my throat throbbed with each swallow.

Heading to the paddock that day felt akin to enduring torture. The harsh glare of the morning sun pierced through me like a dagger, assaulting my eyes and exacerbating my pounding headache. Every step I took was an agonizing ordeal, my body recoiling from the onslaught of noise and light that assaulted my senses. I felt like a nocturnal creature, forced into the blinding daylight against my will, each moment only intensifying my discomfort.

In my car, I swallowed hard, bracing myself for the daunting task that lay ahead: facing the race despite the headache and discomfort I felt. It felt as though my efforts were futile, destined to become nothing more than a futile spectacle.

When Carlos aggressively attempted to overtake me in fifth place, a strong nauseous urge to vomit seized me, causing me to lose control of the car. In a moment of unintended recklessness, my car veered to the side of the track, colliding with the barriers. It was a race I did not finish that day and when asked about what had happened the best I could master was, '' It was a mistake from my part.''

Lando on the other hand came to finish third, with Carlos behind him in fourth.

That night, the entire team was invited to an after-party to celebrate the win, an event that welcomed all Formula One drivers. I hesitated as I grappled with the weight of my own defeat, compounded by the flood of regret from the previous night's events, where I had allowed Lando to persuade me into drinking.

It was only after the first hour of the party that I finally decided to attend, persuaded by a call from my mechanics. Upon arriving, I didn't immediately spot Lando, which was honestly what I had been hoping for. Instead, I bumped into Logan when I went to the bar to ask for a glass of water - I wasn't drinking again.

"Hey," he greeted me with a soft smile. "Did you just arrive? I hadn't seen you so far."

"Yeah," I nodded, smiling politely back at him. "I was resting for a bit before."

"I wasn't expecting you here after what happened but I'm happy you made it," Logan was quick to reply to me, his eyes scanning the bar as he waited for his own drink to be handed to him— some blue concoction, no doubt a fruity cocktail that masks the taste of alcohol as much as possible. In all the years I've known Logan he's never been much of a drinker despite his frat boy appearance, too shy in nature to socialize with strangers which is maybe why he trailed behind me after I'd taken my water and began to walk the perimeter.

"I was worried," he added, making me wince a little as I was forced to remember the events that transpired and think of the possible outcome today might have had id Lando hadn't appeared in my room and if I'd had the will to ask him to leave. 

"You didn't have to be. It was just a mistake on my end. It was nothing really," I played it off. Yet one glance at his face told me that I was misguiding my anger toward him. Logan had it hard enough on the grid and as he fiddled with his drink, I couldn't help but feel sorry knowing that I was one of the few people here that he could talk to without feeling like an intruder.

"You did pretty well though, or so I heard," I tried harder to engage in the conversation, turning to face him.

"You think so?" he said, a soft flush going to his cheeks. "I almost scored points, but the pitstop was a bit slow and I didn't manage to get to tenth."