Away We Go • 2 • Formula One

Chapter 35

please comment throughout!

also this chapter is 5500 words long... buckle up :)

trigger warnings later on!

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Qualifying Result Canada:

P1 VET, P2 VER, P3 LEC, P4 ARC, P5 VAN, P6 NOR, P7 GAS, P8 STR, P9 OCO, P10 SAI, P11 RIC, P12 RAI, P13 GRO, P14 MAG, P15 RUS, P16 LAT, P17 HUL, P18 KVY, P19 SCH, P20 ALB

***

"You okay? You're looking a little paler than usual," Stoffel said, concern lacing his words as he placed a hand on my shoulder. His action almost made me lose my balance and brought a sick feeling to the pit of my stomach. I swallowed hard, trying to rid my mouth of the horrible taste that was accumulating. We were currently on the grid waiting for the start of the race.

Rubbing my face with my hand, I let out a small hum. My skin felt clammy and I was almost certain that the bug I had caught was taking a greater effect on me. "I've been feeling off for a few days," I truthfully replied. "I'm sure it's just a bug. Once I get through the race, I'm going to rest."

At the mention of a potential illness, Stoffel took a step back and scrunched up his nose. "I do not want to catch whatever you have."

"This is the only reason why you came close to my qualifying time," I told him, forcing a smile onto my face in order to appear normal as the cameras panned over to us. Yesterday I allowed Stof to gloat about being within five thousandths of the time I set, and I was not about to let him hold it over me. I was a little disappointed with only starting P4, but I knew I had the car and race pace to make up some places and hopefully get a podium. It would be a lot easier if I didn't feel so shitty. "I'm still starting ahead of you so don't start to doubt me now."

"I beat you last weekend," he pointed out, a smug look on his face.

I scoffed. "Yeah, only because I had that failure. I made up more places than anyone else and finished on the podium."

"That means nothing now. I'll get you in the first corner, don't worry."

Yet again, I found myself scoffing at my teammate. "Yeah, okay Waffle."

Stoffel rolled his eyes at the nickname and picked up my helmet. He gently tossed it to me whilst it was still in its covering, making it harder to catch. "Wipe that smug look off of your face and put this on. It's on, Archer."

"It's adorable that you think you can beat me," I teased.

"I've done it once, and I'll do it again."

"Yeah, right," I sarcastically said, unzipping the black covering of my helmet. The design of my helmet for this weekend glimmered under the bright sun, the holographic paint flickering between colours. It had to be my favourite design so far, honouring my first podium with maple leaves intricately worked into the Union Jack on the top of the helmet. As I unzipped it further and took the helmet from its casing, the familiar white slip of paper I had grown accustomed to seeing fell out, floating lightly to the floor.

Stoffel bent down and picked up the note before I could grab it. Before I could even move down more than an inch, my stomach felt like it was doing flips. I wanted to avoid being sick at all costs. "What's this?"

"Just something," I replied, reaching over to grab it from him. He held it up out of my reach, knowing that I didn't have the energy to put up much of a fight. "Someone's been leaving me cute little notes in my helmet all season. I don't know who it is, other than the fact that they're a driver, but they're helpful in easing my nerves. Oh, and I know it's not Max, Seb, or Pierre."