«And I just don't recognize this fool that you have made me.»
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Mark talked and talked, and talked. Cassandra just nodded from time to time, annotating in her notebook the bits she thought she needed to pay more attention to. She wasn't bored, she had done the same protocol of interviewing with far less interesting people before, with men who were nobodies and whose words would get lost among those of others in the same position. But this was different, there was a professional racing driver in front of her, with years of experience, talking his head off and still, the only thing she could think of was how his accent was a bit funny — Abigail said some British people generally thought Australians sounded funny, so she would take that as a reason — and also about her other interview. The one with Sebastian.
Mark Webber was interesting, in the way someone who had been in the sport for years was. Cassandra though, she just wished she didn't look as bored as she perhaps felt. Nothing against him, it was probably the fact he was way older than her, and not in a Matteo-kind-of-way, but she was starting to wonder if the interview with Sebastian would be more enjoyable and less rigid. Or maybe she just needed to stop thinking about Sebastian.
"It's been a decent journey, you know." He finally finished with his answer.
Cassandra nodded again, then took a quick peek at the next question. "And how has your relationship with your teammate been?"
Mark huffed and even added a laugh as if the question was funny. Cassandra raised an eyebrow, then he just gave her a sort-of shrug. "It's been." He pursed his lips. Cassandra knew he would talk. Men always loved to complain about other men when given the chance to do so. "We're clearly at different stages of our careers, he's younger than me, and he's very competitive. Sometimes it is hard not to feel so stranded when you know your teammate is your biggest rival. Some people even say you can't really be friends with your teammate in this sport."
"So it's not good?" She said without any hesitation and Mark chuckled.
"Do you like all your coworkers?" He leaned back on his seat, staring at her expectantly.
That answer was too easy. "Does anyone?"
"Exactly." He thrummed his fingertips on the table. Later Cassandra would probably catch that sound when she re-listened to the recording. "We're not exactly mates if that's what you're asking. We compete against each other on track and try to win together for the sake of the team, things get ugly sometimes yeah, especially when you're against someone like Sebastian."
"So you think he's hard to work with?" Hans would eat that up. She just knew it.
Mark looked at her and even acted like he was really thinking about his answer. Cassandra knew it was on the tip of his tongue. "I think when you're competitive, and you have a team supporting you, for the most part, then you can get a bit ahead of yourself. Even act like a cunt sometimes. Stuff happens, nobody likes to be a loser. It's normal for the relationship between teammates to deteriorate sometimes."
"Would you say the team benefits him more than you?" She raised an eyebrow. Mark was staring at her with a bit of suspicion. She was a journalist after all or something along those lines. That's how they saw her.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" He looked at her phone recording the interview, at the PR person sitting a few feet away from them, and then back at her. Cassandra understood. "Teams have their priorities, they do what they have to do to make sure not only they win but also their drivers. Do I think he's a bit protected? Maybe. Who knows? You'd have to talk to the team about it." His answer was pretty direct in her opinion.
She tried to dig a bit more, but he seemingly wasn't in the mood to talk about Sebastian, so Cassandra continued with the rest of her questions. The ones about him and his career, all of that. It went smoothly after that, they had a proper conversation and she thanked him for the interview. Mark gave her a nod and shook her hand before he got told it was time for him to leave. She stopped the recording and read through her notes, it was enough to make it at least a bit interesting.
Or what Hans would consider interesting.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and Cassandra turned her attention away from her notes.
"Sebastian will be here soon." The girl informed her with a polite smile. Cassandra nodded in acknowledgement and watched her go.
She put her notebook down on the table, crossed and uncrossed her legs, and tried to figure out what to do with her arms until her face turned into a frown. Why was she suddenly feeling out of place when everything had gone alright with Mark? She took a deep breath, straightened in her seat and placed her hands flat on her notebook.
Her gaze checked the phone, and she could see there were a few notifications there. To distract herself meanwhile Sebastian decided to honour her with his presence, Cassandra decided to check what was going on. Just a few emails, some social media notifications and a couple of text messages. There was one from Hans, but it seemed long as hell and she wasn't in the mood to read anything from him.
Abigail: How are the interviews going? Have you lost your mind with Sebastian yet?
Cassandra could even hear her friend snickering in the back of her head. She rolled her eyes and typed.
Cassandra: No, but I'm about to lose my mind with you
No immediate reply, which meant she was probably working. When she heard the sound of the door loudly opening and a couple of voices, Cassandra placed the phone back on the table and took a look at the newcomers.
Sebastian animatedly held a conversation with his PR manager, Britta she reminded herself of the name, but stopped talking when he spotted Cassandra. His smile turned into a full grin, and Cassandra stood from her seat as they walked closer. Britta offered her hand first, while Sebastian took the seat previously occupied by Mark. She could feel his eyes on her at every moment.
"I believe we didn't properly introduce ourselves," Britta said, shaking her hand. Cassandra nodded. "Britta, nice to meet you. I'm his PR manager."
Cassandra gave her best attempt at a professional smile. "Cassandra. The pleasure is mine."
"I'll be over there, just in case." She pointed at the seats that had been taken by Mark's people before, and Cassandra nodded again. She knew they had to monitor in case any question or answer was out of the line, she'd deal with that.
When Britta was seated in her respective position, Cassandra took her seat again and finally looked at him. Sebastian had his hands intertwined on the table, and his stare was attentive. He was smiling, because of course, he would. Cassandra cleared her throat, and he even chuckled a bit.
"How are you, Sebastian?" She opened her notebook, grabbed her pen and moved the phone to the centre of the table.
"Better now, the view is incredible." Cassandra glared. She had a feeling that even if she insulted him he would keep smiling. "How about you? I missed talking to you." Sebastian raised an eyebrow.
Cassandra narrowed her eyes. "I'm fine. Thank you for asking." She completely ignored the talking bit. "This is an audio-recorded interview, I'll take some notes and transcribe the relevant bits for the article." It was the procedure, the typical talk before the interview.
Sebastian leaned on his seat. "Are you from here?" He asked out of a sudden.
Her brows turned into a frown. The kind that expressed confusion rather than displeasure. "Excuse me?"
"Are you from here? Milton Keynes?" He asked again.
That wasn't in the script. "Uh," Cassandra heard a loud sigh from Britta's side of the room, which meant she was probably used to that. "No, I'm from Nottingham."
Sebastian slowly nodded, and for a second, she thought that was it. "Cassandra isn't a very English name, is it?" She was wrong apparently.
"No, it's not." He looked expectant. "My mother is—wasn't English, so there's that." She didn't even know if that woman was dead or alive. Cassandra tilted her head. "What is going on? I should be the one asking the questions here, not you."
He beamed. "Sorry, I was just wondering. It's a pretty name." He raised his hands in self-defence. "Please, go ahead."
The difference between Sebastian and Mark — and not that she was focusing on that — was quite palpable. Mark had talked a lot, but Sebastian was exceeding on that, like really. And he moved his hands whilst he talked, perhaps convincing himself that would make his words stick more, Cassandra noticed that because she would steal quick glances at his hands from time to time. There was so much passion in the way he talked about racing, and what it meant to him, someone would think he was a veteran by the way he spoke. It reminded her of the way her dad used to talk about his writing and what each of his books meant to him. It was warmth, somehow. There was a glint in his eyes whenever he talked about his whole development to reach where he was today, from his karting days to actually racing against one of his idols. If she allowed herself to be sappy and annoying, she would even think it was endearing. She also learned he lived in Switzerland because it was quiet and peaceful, and he liked privacy. In her mind, she also had a joke about how taxes worked in Switzerland for wealthy people but she doubted Sebastian himself took care of his taxing situation.
Cassandra found herself mindfully listening to each of his answers. Even when some of the questions weren't meant to have long answers, Sebastian just chatted, and that maybe was the reason why she realised they hadn't advanced that much compared to her time interviewing Mark.
Sebastian took a deep breath. "Sorry, am I talking too much?" He said after finishing one of his answers, which included a very detailed narration of one of his adventures from when he was in junior ranks.
Cassandra thought he would be really good at storytelling if he was a writer. "It's—" Perfect, the word ghosted her lips. "It's fine. Don't worry, it's good."
"Okay, great." He smiled.
She read the next question. "And how is your relationship with Mark? Driving for the same team whilst also competing against each other must be difficult."
That seemed to strike something. The glint in his eyes when talking about racing and winning his championships, and everything, disappeared. His smile also went away, although he was pretty good at hiding that behind pursed lips.
She expected a rant, probably the same sort of information Mark had given her. How they were in different stages of their careers, and competition was far more important than being friends. Or something along those lines. But Sebastian recovered, and soon enough he was smiling again. Like the question was interesting or he had gotten an idea.
"I have a proposal for you." Any idea or 'proposal' he had probably wouldn't be a good one for her.
Cassandra frowned. "What? We haven't finished the interview." Her hand gestured at the phone still recording.
By his expression, she could tell he couldn't care less. "We can finish the interview at the next race. It's in Silverstone, here in England, I'll answer the rest of your questions there." Cassandra blinked. Confused.
Pretty sure that wasn't allowed.
"I have a feeling that's not—it's not permitted." Somewhere in the deal between the team and the magazine, something said that couldn't be done. She was sure. Hans wouldn't spend a single quid to get her to an actual race. "I don't really have a press pass, and I'm quite sure your race weekends are far too busy to make room for the rest of this interview."
Sebastian still looked unaffected. He ignored her reasonings and turned to where Britta was sitting. The woman already had her attention on him. "Britta, kannst du mal kommen?"
She should've taken German in secondary school.
"What's going on?" Either Cassandra looked like she was absolutely lost with German, or Britta was nice enough and wanted her to feel included. She was grateful anyway.
"I was telling Cassandra here," His hand gestured in her direction as if there was another Cassandra in the room. "That it would be a good idea to finish this interview at Silverstone. I've been talking too much. Taking my time, you know."
Britta looked at her, and Cassandra felt the need to chime in. "I told him it sounded a bit complicated, assuming he's really busy during race weekends, and I'm not hired under press contract." She had to make sure she knew it wasn't her idea.
"Nonsense," Sebastian said with amusement, flipping his hand dismissively in the air.
Britta looked at him. "She's actually right, Seb." Cassandra tried really hard not to look pleased about being right. Sebastian huffed. "It might be a little complicated to make time for this. Especially if you keep rambling." There was a hint of banter in her tone.
"Britta, Sie ist sehr schön. Bitte." He even winked, and Cassandra was a bit out of her element. Was it too late to start taking German?
The poor woman sighed deeply, shaking her head. Something told Cassandra that she was a bit too used to Sebastian's shenanigans. "Sebastian." Her tone was serious, but he didn't look like he would back down from whatever was going on. Cassandra still felt a bit lost. Britta turned to her. Cassandra looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "Let me try, I'll see what I can do. You wouldn't mind this sudden change, Cassandra? I hope this idea of his doesn't affect your schedule."
Aside from the fact she was unemployed and rotting, Cassandra knew Hans wouldn't be opposed to it. As long as he didn't have to actually pay to get her to the Grand Prix. That wasn't her initial plan though, not even close to it. She was supposed to interview them, write the article, and send it to Hans for revision and approval. That was it. Nowhere did she imagine a Grand Prix in the middle of all.
She glanced at Sebastian, this one was already staring at her. "It's alright, don't worry. And in case it's not possible to finish there, just let me know and we can meet here again. Or over a video call, whatever is easier." Her lips tugged into a polite smile. The ones she was trained to give.
"Thank you." She returned Cassandra's smile, which pretty much vanished when she turned to Sebastian. "Wir werden später sprechen." Sebastian shrugged, and Britta shook her head.
When they were left alone again, Cassandra looked at him. If she had lost her frustration then it was definitely coming back at any given moment. Sebastian still seemed to be nonchalant about the whole situation. Like he was actually having fun by making the process a bit more difficult.
"What was that about?" She frowned, and something was telling her that he actually enjoyed causing those expressions on her.
"It's a good idea, come on. You can get a better insight." That was kind of true but she wouldn't let him win, or know about it. "Maybe you're even a good luck charm too. It can be a win-win situation."
She would ignore that. "What did you tell her? I mean, in German?"
"They do not teach German in England?" His eyes widened, but the surprise was fake. He was dodging the question. "You could use one of those internet translators," Sebastian smirked.
Her eyebrows twitched. She took a deep breath. "Fine, I see how it is. Then this is the end of this interview." She reached to pause the recording with her finger and grabbed her phone. Her hands were moving so fast to collect everything that it felt a bit clumsy.
"Until Silverstone." Sebastian reminded her. Cassandra made her best to ignore him. Then she heard a chuckle. "Do you need a ride this time?"
Cassandra closed her notebook with a bit too much force, then glanced up at him. "I don't—" She did need a ride this time, but if she spend any more minutes with him, Cassandra would end up either being very unlikeable or she would make out with him just to stop him from talking more. Neither sounded like a good idea for her. "I don't need a ride, don't worry. And I'm sure Britta would like to have a word with you. I don't want to take any more of your time...until Silverstone."
"She would understand, a little." He peeked at Britta for a moment, then back at Cassandra. Sebastian smiled like there was some sort of inside joke she wasn't aware of.
"I'm fine, seriously." Cassandra insisted. All her stuff was finally inside her bag.
"Alright, as you wish."
They pushed their chairs back at the same time and stood in front of one another. Sebastian offered his hand, Cassandra hesitated for a moment but eventually took it. Because she was polite or needed to be. His touch was warm, which was weird because the AC was killing her. She felt like an ice stick.
Perhaps they held their hands wrapped in each other's for a bit too long until Cassandra cleared her throat and the courteous gesture had to be broken.
"See you soon, Cassandra."
With a nod of acknowledgement and a few waves, Cassandra walked out of there, biting her lip and with her heart pounding in her chest like a drum set. That was not normal.
Once she was completely out of the building, she felt her lungs releasing air the proper way. She also cursed when the promise of raindrops touched her cheeks. She shivered because it was cold, almost freezing. Fucking English weather, she thought. Perhaps she would've been warmer in Sebastian's car...Cassandra shook those thoughts away as she walked closer to the main street in an attempt to get a taxi.
—
"Do you know German?" Cassandra closed the door behind her and threw her bag on the nearest sofa.
Abigail looked up from where she was bent over the kitchen counter, carefully placing basil leaves in what seemed to be a homemade pizza. Her friend tilted her head, not really confused but more amused than anything else. She put the basil down and straightened up so Cassandra could properly look at her.
"Eh, no. I took French in school." Abigail smiled. "We did have a German client at work like six months ago, but I doubt danke and bis später can be of much use to you. Why? What did Sebastian say to you?" Cassandra glared, and Abigail raised her hands. "I mean, I doubt Mark Webber is fluent in German."
She could feel Abigail's stare on her as she rummaged through the contents of her bag, trying to find her pack of cigarettes, it was proven to be something of an impossible task. When was the last time she even cleaned that bag? Her frustration was getting the worst of her.
"He wants me at Silverstone," Cassandra said, not stopping rummaging. "Sebastian, I mean. He asked his PR manager to try to get me into the next race so we can finish the interview because he left me with half the questions unanswered...I need to smoke something." She finally looked up from her bag, the thing falling back onto the sofa.
Abigail pointed at her with a basil leaf. "You cannot smoke here, go to the terrace. Last time you activated the smoke detector and almost started a fake emergency call." Cassandra was drunk when that happened. She barely remembered. "And wait for a second, go back a little. What do you mean he wants you at Silverstone?"
A sigh escaped her lips and she plopped down onto the sofa. She turned to Abigail. "He said I could finish the interview at Silverstone, the race, you know." Abigail looked offended that she would assume she didn't catch that. Cassandra rolled her eyes. "Or after the race, I don't know. He even got his poor PR lady involved, the guy's insane." She huffed.
For some reason, Abigail didn't seem to be surprised by that turn of events. "I think he likes you, Cass." She carefully said that because Cassandra was...a little complicated. "Or at least he's a bit attracted to you."
If anything, Cassandra's glaring was just a confirmation of the obvious. "Be serious, Abigail. I'm not in the mood for this banter." She warned.
"Now you want to play the modest one." Abigail crossed her arms over her chest, pushing her hip to the side and everything. "I'm just saying this because you're not unaware of how hot you are. And even though you're not a ray of sunshine, that works in people for some reason. It's your face, I swear." Cassandra liked Abigail because she was a sweetheart, but also because she was honest. Nobody was so willing to call out Cassandra's unlikeable personality sometimes as Abigail was.
"Stop reading all those cringy romance novels, they're brainwashing you." Cassandra massaged her temple.
Abigail smiled and moved to be closer to her, leaning on the side of the sofa. She looked up at her. "Nobody makes this much effort unless they find you hot."
"This isn't secondary school, Abigail. Seriously." Cassandra rolled her eyes.
"No secondary school boy would try to get you a pass to a Formula 1 Grand Prix." Abigail bit the inside of her cheek, stopping herself from grinning. "And I've noticed you talk to him maybe more than necessary. I've never seen you this involved with an article."
Now she did look offended by that. "You're insane." Abigail sat beside her. "Are you suggesting I'm trying to get with him too?" Telling Abigail about her various exchanges with Sebastian had been a mistake.
"I'm not suggesting anything. Don't get fuzzy." She hooked her arm with Cassandra's and rested her head on her shoulder. "At least you know, once you're done with his interview, you get the article out and you're over with Formula 1. And you might even get to attend a race, that's cool." Abigail eyed her, waiting for a reaction. The way to get to Cassandra was simple actually, you just had to push her to speak. Abigail had mastered that over the years.
That was how she found out about Matteo in the first place when they were like twenty and a bit drunk.
"Aha, fuck Formula 1." Cassandra focused on the wall in front of them. It was blue. Why was it blue? They needed a new colour. "I'm actually intrigued, I need to know who's going to win the whole thing by the end of the season. Has that wall always been blue?"
Abigail nodded or tried to due to her position. "Yeah, since we moved. We haven't changed anything." Cassandra just hummed. "Fernando Alonso will probably win, I think. The little Ferrari guy, you know the one." No, Cassandra didn't because the only driver she could remember was Sebastian.
And Mark, but that was a side memory.
"We should probably paint that wall." Had Sebastian mentioned something about his favourite colour being blue? Or was she the one who was going insane?
"I don't think so, I like the colour. And it looks good with the paintings, come on." Abigail moved a bit away from Cassandra. "Why are you so against the colour blue now?" She raised an eyebrow, her voice sounded a bit teasing.
"Sebastian—" Cassandra turned to her. Abigail pressed her lips to avoid smiling. Cassandra was like a scared dog, any movement or reaction could set her off. "We need to stop talking about him."
"You keep bringing him up, so is not my fault." Her face dropped. Abigail grinned and reached to place a strand of hair behind Cassandra's ear. "I'm just kidding, don't kill me. And Gaz left a pack last time he was here, it must be somewhere in the kitchen. Just please stay away from the smoke detector."
"I love you. I hope you know that. Even when you're infuriating sometimes." She pinched Abigail's cheek before pushing off the sofa and making her way to the kitchen.
Her friend chuckled and turned to follow her. "I love you too, Cassandra."
When she was alone on the terrace, freezing herself but whatever if it made Abigail happy then it was fine, she pulled her phone out, scrolling through the various recordings there. Cassandra scrolled back to the most recent one, and she groaned in non-existent pain before playing it. There was the whole conversation, and he did say his favourite colour was blue so that meant she wasn't losing her mind, it wasn't even relevant to the question but Sebastian just loved to talk.
Then there was the other conversation. The whole debate about Silverstone. She hoped Britta earned good money because dealing with Sebastian didn't seem to be an easy task. The bits in German were recorded as well, of course. Cassandra had taken Spanish back in secondary school, she wished Sebastian spoke Spanish, although she doubted she'd have understood anyway.
She shook her head. She was definitely the one becoming insane.
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a/n: if i have the opportunity to write an awkward dinner i will take it.
every time i think about this story having a happy ending i start listening to right where you left me and i'm like...perhaps...