Oscar POV
The main result of media day is that my entire body is aching and I'm ready to jump on a plane home without even competing in the race. It's obvious that things are not going well. The team is rotting from inside because of me and Lando, Ferrari are biting at our heels and catching us in the championship, and it doesn't seem like anything will change soon. I told myself I would go easy on Lando after the meeting with Zak Brown, and for the sake of my race seat I really should, but how can I stand by and do nothing?
When the sun is setting fiery orange I step out for a walk around the hotel grounds: a few rolling hills of quiet forest. The branches cast cool shadows so I layer up with a hoodie, which also protects against the evening mosquitoes.
The walk helps to clear my mind. My white trainers beat rhythmically against the dusty path. Nobody bothers me except a couple of dog walkers and the birdsong and dappled shade help my psyche no end. I could almost forget I'm an F1 driver and that so many people are relying on me. I could just be a tourist, lost in the forest with nothing to rush back for.
By the time I reach the far end of the grounds the sun has almost set. The mosquitoes are becoming almost unbearable so I raise my hood and pull the cords tight around my face. I turn around at the end of the path and jump a couple of times on the spot. My legs are restless. My nervous energy is coming back.
I run all the way back to the hotel, and it's exactly what my exhausted mind needed.
I pant as I enter the hotel, but I'm grinning from ear to ear. Nobody can touch me when I'm running. No worries can catch me and no responsibilities can call me. I breathe deeply as I navigate the hotel and on the final corridor before my room I run into Grace.
"Oscar," she stops me, a stern look on her face. My chest tightens as my grin fades. Conversations with Grace have the potential to go one of two ways: Humiliating media challenge or cathartic Lando slander.
"Hey, Grace."
"What was that today? You just rolled over and died for Lando Norris."
My eyebrows tighten as I study her. Is she angry at me?
"I didn't. I just didn't want to stoop down to his level."
"But you could have at least put up a fight! Do you know how stupid that all looks on camera?"
"You're blaming me that your stupid race didn't work out?"
"Yes!" Grace yells. "You're letting him ruin everything, he's walking all over you! He's ruling the championship and he's ruling your mind!"
My heart rate rises and I take a step towards her. "How can you say that to me?" I return. "You don't know what it's like, you don't know the pressure I'm under. I don't only have Lando to compete with you know."
"Who else is there?" Grace snarls. "You're the best hope to beat him, you have the same machinery, why can't you win? You don't believe in yourself, that's why. You don't—"
"You don't know anything about me!" I cut her off. "So stop pretending you do. You can't comment on my self-belief, you can't criticise my work ethic. Who are you, some rich university graduate who waltzed into her first job through family connections? I worked hard all my life, from the age of seven, to be where I am today."
Grace stares at me, frustrated tears in her eyes. I don't understand why she's so upset. Why does my performance matter to her so much? Yes, I could be performing better. But it isn't for her, an irrelevant media manager, to tell me that.
"Is it against the law to want the best for you?" Grace asks, playing the guilt card and folding her arms.
"I never asked for your support. And I don't need what you're giving me. You're so negative, you never build me up. All you ever do is tear others down."
"I tear Lando down. You do it too, you hate him more than anyone."
I shake my head, looking away. "I've never understood that about you. I have my reasons for disliking Lando, but you? Who even are you, Grace? What gives you the right?"
Grace looks at me for one defiant second before swiping a tear from her eye. I almost feel bad for yelling, but she started it, and it almost feels like she's spent the whole season purposely trying to confuse me. She balls her fists and rushes away down the corridor.
That's when I become aware of our surroundings. The window at the end of the hallway is dark and all the doors around me are closed with sleeping guests behind them. Some of them our team, some of them not. I have no idea.
I turn on my heel and march in the opposite direction. I feel awful. In the past I liked confiding my problems in Grace, I took heart in the fact that we were both new to the team and trying to find our way. But none of her arguments make sense anymore. She seems so disingenuous.
I make it to my room and lock the door securely behind me, leaning back against it as I catch my breath. I can't put my finger on it. What could possibly make a person act that way? I feel like I need to run through the forest all over again. I need to shower myself clean and lie down, get some sleep before the practice sessions tomorrow. I don't want to roll over and die for Lando Norris. But I know I can't be the problem child of the team anymore either.
Lando POV
The sun in Belgium is strong today, unusually so. My engineers and I walk the hot track under huge parasols with our jumpers tied around our waists. It's full of hills, a real workout, and some of the other teams pass us on bikes. I spray Charles Leclerc with water as he cycles past.
"Thank you!" he laughs, dripping.
When we get back to the paddock I head to my cabin for a cool shower. I have a couple of spare hours until I'll be needed in the garage so I head to the hospitality area to see what's going on and try to stave off boredom. The place is quiet except a few people tapping on laptops. I sit down in a soft armchair by a sunny window and look out over the trees. This is what I needed. A bit of peace.
Then Grace emerges from the shadows.
I never know whether to be happy or scared when I see her approaching with that wide smile. She's holding a stack of papers, but that doesn't always mean work to do. She stands by my chair and I crane my neck up at her expectantly.
"Hello," I say.
"Hey, Lando. You relaxing before practice?"
"Yeah," I nod, looking back down at my tucked up legs. "You working?"
Grace nods with a small smile. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something. It's not work though, don't worry."
"Okay," I say.
"Let's go somewhere more private."
My heart sinks, but I rise to my feet anyway. Every time, just as I'm getting into my winning mindset, someone comes along and stresses me out. Usually it's Oscar, but Grace is another common offender.
She leads me into one of the small offices that line the corridor, co-working spaces which nobody is using right now. She shuts the glass door behind us.
"I just wanted to say how proud I am of you," she says. That's not what I expected. I sit down on one of the orange chairs.
"Really?"
"Yeah! I know things haven't been easy so far this season, I know Oscar's been giving you a lot of trouble. I'm glad you've found the strength to fight back."
I don't know whether to feel proud or guilty. My stomach tightens, but I thank Grace anyway.
"I know you can win the championship, Lando. If you keep this fighting spirit up, you can beat anyone."
"Is that all you wanted to say?" I ask, looking up at her forlornly. It comes out all wrong, as if I don't appreciate her praise. Of course she doesn't understand how little this encouragement actually helps me. I don't like being told to keep doing the things that are eating me up inside.
"You know Oscar is the only one holding you back, right?" Grace asks sternly. "I'm glad you've started speaking up, you should continue! If you hadn't done something he could have taken the championship from you!"
"It's almost mathematically impossible for him to take the championship from me, unless I don't finish another race for the rest of the season."
"You know what I mean. He's already in your head, the only cure is to get inside his."
"Do you really think so?"
Grace pauses and studies me. "I've met men like Oscar before," she nods nods. "He deserves to be shown his place."
I sigh. She could be right, but I'm tired of constantly thinking about Oscar. Every time I look at him it brings back painful memories, and those demons grow bigger and bigger every day with new situations and conversations adding themselves to the mix. I want the season to be over already. I want a couple of months of quiet.
"Lando?" Grace prompts me. I jump a little, snapping out of my reverie.
"Yeah, I get it," I say. I'm exhausted and it shows in my voice. "But maybe I don't like the person I've become this season. I'm tired. I just want to focus on myself."
Grace narrows her eyes as if she doesn't believe me. She smirks, then realises I'm serious and puts her hands on her hips.
"So this is it? You're giving up?"
"Giving up on what? I'm still going to fight for the championship."
"Giving up on beating Oscar."
"Beating him in what?" I ask, voice raising slightly. "What am I supposed to do next? I've proven all I need to prove. I've upset him enough, and he's upset me. I'm done. No more pettiness."
Grace shakes her head. "This isn't how I thought this conversation would go..."
"How did you want it to go? You always egg me on, you say you hate Oscar but you always leave me to do the dirty work and get to him for you. I don't even understand why you don't like him, you'd never met him before this season. You barely know him."
"What do you know about him, Lando?" Grace's voice rises too. "He certainly doesn't care about you, that's for sure."
"Maybe I don't care anymore either. I never asked him to care about me. And I never asked you to care about this."
I spring to my feet and shove the door open with my shoulder. I walk away from the conversation, down the stairs and out into the bright sunshine. My nerves are fried, my mind spinning, and everything seems worse than before Grace came to find me. I don't know where I'm going. Maybe out of the paddock altogether. I just want space.
I'm sick with the feeling that something has changed, maybe within me, maybe outside. Something is different, and I'm rocking like a ship in unsteady water.
I've lost Grace. I can't feel safe telling her the truth anymore, sharing my stress and talking about Oscar. I probably never should have confided in a stranger, but what's done is done, I can't go back. And I won't go back to her with these things ever again.