Chapter Twenty-Four
About six hours into the flight, Dylan felt herself coming to and groaned as new waves of pain washed over her. The pain meds had once again worn off and, having been still in one position for a while, her muscles were not enjoying any sort of movement again.
As her eyes fluttered open, she was met with the dim lights of a darkened cabin. It was quiet around her and she realised everyone was asleep. The events of earlier came back to her and she glanced to her side, seeing Max slumped against the side of his chair, eyes closed and evenly breathing.
It was the first time she'd ever seen him asleep, and he looked so gentle and boyish. No frown sat on his face and he was at ease. He couldn't have been that comfy without his pillow though, and she felt her face warm as she thought back to him forcing the pillow on her. A thoughtful act of care, no matter how bluntly it had been forced on her. She was beginning to see that it may just be Max's natural manner of showing care.
The time on the seat screen in front of her flashed and she frowned. She wasn't allowed the decent meds for another couple hours but she could have ibuprofen and that might be enough to relax her back to sleep.
Before, Max had gone a few rows back to Hunter to get her meds and she wondered if she could do the same. The seatbelt sign wasn't on and she could sneak into the front pocket of his rucksack and reclaim the pills. Carlos had entrusted them to Hunter because he knew from their childhood that Dylan had a tendency to forget to take any, or take way too many in a day.
The click of Dylan's seatbelt undoing felt loud in the quiet cabin and she worriedly checked to make sure Max was still asleep, and he was. She held in the groan of pain as she shuffled forward and then she swung her legs to the side, reaching for the headrest to help pull her up.
"What do you think you're doing?"
She froze, and then slowly turned to look back at Max. He was still leant against the headrest with his eyes closed but his signature frown was back on his face and he clearly was awake. Her ninja-like sneaking had not been sufficiently ninja-like.
"I'm sorry." Dylan whispered, "I didn't mean to wake you."
Max brought a hand up and rubbed at his face before opening his eyes. They were still sleepy but they were fixed on her with an unimpressed look, "Where are you off to?"
His voice was deeper than usual and Dylan bit her lip, "I-uhm, I was just going to get some ibuprofen."
At this, he sat up properly and scanned down her body, "What's wrong? You're in pain again?"
"It's fine, the other stuff has just worn off and I can't have any more yet."
He was frowning deeply and part of Dylan wanted to reach up and smooth the lines in his forehead. He was going to end up with permanent wrinkles by thirty at this rate.
"I'm okay." She reassured him, "Just a bit stiff."
"I'll go grab it for you." He stood up and she opened her mouth to tell him he didn't have to but he silenced her with a glare.
He made his way down the aisle to where Hunter and Brad were each passed out in their seats. Crouching down, he gently opened the zip on the rucksack by Hunter's feet and pulled out the ibuprofen. The two other white pill packets filled with her prescribed medication sat next to it and in a quick decision, he decided to take them as well.
When he got back to their seats, Dylan was wriggling around with a tight grimace on her face, clearly trying to get comfy. She stopped as she noticed him in the aisle and made an effort to smooth her face out, a shaky smile sat on her lips instead. Max saw straight through it all; he knew she'd been lying about how much pain she was in. Despite all the help she went about trying to give everyone each day, she really was shocking at asking for it herself.
He sat back down and popped out two of the ibuprofen pills, holding them flat out for Dylan. Before she could turn around to look for her own, he also presented his water bottle.
She flushed, but took them both gratefully and swallowed down the medication.
"When can you take the others?" Max asked, slotting his water bottle back in the seat pocket.
Dylan glanced once more at the screen, "In about 2 hours."
She watched as he nodded, reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, swiping up to his alarms and setting a 2 hour timer. Something lovely wrapped around her heart at the action.
"You should go back to sleep. We've still got an hour or so." He said.
"I know, it's just..." She trailed off, not wanting to complain about anything when he'd already given her his pillow and eye mask.
He read her body language anyway, "You're not comfy. Why not?"
"Well leaning this way means the headrest digs in awkwardly and leaning that way means the arm rest sticks in my hip and it's just sat right on my bruise right now."
Max ran his eyes over their two seats, figuring out the best possible solution. He had an idea in the back of his mind but he was selfishly hesitant to suggest it in case she outrightly dismissed him. As she tried to lean back against the armrest, Dylan's face momentarily flinched in pain, and he threw his hesitations out the window.
"Come here." Max ordered, trying to inject some softness into his tone and probably not succeeding.
He clicked a little button and pulled the central armrest up so their two seats became one. Reaching down, he pulled a Red Bull hoodie out of his bag and draped it across his shoulder to cushion it. Then he grabbed the pillow from her lap and positioned it in the same place.
Dylan was watching him, wide eyed and trying not to look like she had a stampede of butterflies in her stomach. The idea of being that close to Max had her heart pounding and she tried to remind herself that he was probably just being polite so she didn't keep disturbing him.
He nodded for her to shuffle over and she did, cautiously pressing herself up against his side. His hand came around and gently guided her head against his shoulder, and he was right that it was instantly more comfortable than the plane headrest.
With her cheek against his pillow and hoodie, she was enveloped by the comforting smell of him. Her eyes started to feel heavy and she relaxed against him, letting herself fall unusually quickly into a deep sleep.
"You good?" He murmured, but she was out.
Max was almost surprised at how quickly Dylan had dropped off. He knew the pain medication was probably helping her, and no doubt she was exhausted from the exertion of the weekend, but it still sent a surge of pride through him that he'd been able to help her.
Resting on his shoulder, he could feel her small breaths against his neck and as she readjusted, she grabbed onto his arm and cuddled against it. Her hand fell near his and he wanted to hold it.
Was this what it felt like to care for a girl? To be completely terrified and at peace simultaneously when she was near?
It was entirely alien to him but it felt surprisingly good to have helped her and looked after her on the flight. Now, as she sat snuggled against his arm, he was hit with a crashing wave of affection and an urge to wholeheartedly protect her. Nothing like this weekend could ever happen to her again, he would make sure of it.
Brad had been right, annoyingly. He'd asked what it would take for Max to realise that he did care about Dylan and apparently it was almost losing her. The whole thing was absolutely terrifying; the thought of her sad or hurt, of her rejecting him, of her with someone else, they all scared him in different ways and it was overwhelming.
This was becoming increasingly more difficult to shove in the deep, dark, forgotten parts of his brain. Every day his feelings for her fought more and more towards the surface.
He leant his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. Truly, he'd made such a mess and he didn't know where to start with fixing it. Knowing he probably wasn't even worthy of anyone's forgiveness, he still felt like it wasn't even worth asking. But part of him knew that was the coward's way out and if he wanted to keep Dylan around - which he found more than ever that he really did - then he had to start taking steps to fix his mess.
Somewhere between his turbulent thoughts, sleep found him.
They stayed asleep for the remainder of the flight, even when Hunter walked past for the toilet, when Brad came to check on them, and when Christian came to discuss logistics for the week. Each discovered the sleeping pair, paused in surprise, and then quietly backed away.
It was only when the lights came on and the seatbelt sign dinged that they woke up. Max's eyes opened first and he adjusted to the light before looking down at Dylan sleepily rubbing her eyes and squeezing his arm tighter.
"Hey." He whispered, reaching his free arm around to stroke her hair and gently move her head, "Plane's landing."
Dylan groaned as the light bled into her vision and she pushed away from Max, running a hand through her tangled hair. She'd slept surprisingly well; Max was a very comfy pillow.
She shuffled back over to her seat and put her seat belt on, tidying up her items around her in preparation of the landing. Max did the same and when they were all packed away, he turned and said to her, "Good sleep?"
"Surprisingly, yes." Dylan grinned, "You know if the whole racing thing doesn't work out, you've got a strong future as a pillow."
He smiled, a proper smile that wasn't a smirk or sarcastic in any way. For all his blunt toughness, he was absolutely beautiful and something delicious twisted in her stomach at the sight of him.
"I'm glad." He said sincerely, "You can take more meds once we're off the plane."
"Thank you. Where are we going next?"
He shrugged, "Christian will know."
"Of course, he knows everything."
Max ran a hand through his hair, "We're in Spain, will you see your family?"
"Probably, it's not far for them and I'm sure they'd take the chance to see Carlos." She answered, "But my cousins aren't the biggest racing fans."
"Why not?"
"The danger, I guess? It's hard to watch people you care about risk their life each week. I love racing but I worry about all of you every time you get in those cars."
"You've been in more accidents than me this season."
Dylan paused, a giggle escaping her as she realised the truth of the statement. She'd been hit by an F1 car more times than the actual F1 driver she was working with.
"Well, I hope you don't feel a need to beat me there."
"I don't know." A rare smirk slipped onto Max's face, "I do like to win."
-
The Barcelona Airport was absolutely packed. The warmer May weather was gradually bringing more tourists and with football and F1 happening, fans were arriving early from all over.
Max and Dylan had regrouped with Brad and Hunter as they departed the plane. They didn't have to descend down any stairs thankfully and Max very bluntly insisted they brought her wheelchair to first class to ensure Dylan wasn't walking.
Dylan was still not a fan of the wheelchair but it had worked to their advantage as they'd been first off the plane and first through to baggage collection. They were currently stood by the carousels, people-watching as they waited for their luggage.
"Are you a Barcelona FC fan, darling?" Brad asked Dylan as a couple fans walked past him.
She immediately scoffed, "Please! My mum is from Madrid so I'm Real Madrid till I die."
Brad laughed at her and they chatted more about football until Hunter spotted their bags coming around. Once they were through the arrivals gate, they set up shop in a Starbucks while they waited for the rest of the team travelling with them.
Brad and Hunter were chatting quite amicably but Dylan was still moaning about how stupid she felt in a wheelchair. They let her whine on for a bit before Hunter finally snapped and said, "Alright doll, walk over to that shop and back without a single frown and you can ditch the chair."
He nodded over to a shop selling summer clothes about 30 feet away from them. Dylan tilted her head to the side, considering the distance and her odds and just as she was about to take her chances, Max bluntly interrupted, "Don't even think about it."
She slumped back in the chair, arms crossed in frustration and refusing to look at Hunter's smug face. Realistically, Dylan knew she couldn't be up and walking right now, the pain was still a bit fresh but it got better with each hour and she already longed for the moment she could go back to walking normally.
While they waited, Dylan connected her phone to the Wi-Fi and scrolled through her social media. She was finally allowed back on it after a sufficient 'no screens' period, and her following had grown even further. There were floods of well wishes in her comments and she was caught off guard by the love and warmth that bombarded her account. People seemed genuinely concerned about her.
Videos of the accident were floating around but she scrolled past, mainly out of embarrassment. She lived it, there was no need to relive it.
To stem the flow of comments, she put a post up on her story, sharing that she was okay, thanking the fans for support, and once again reiterating that it was not Charles' fault at all. She put a selfie of the two of them up for good measure to show there was no bad blood.
Eventually, Christian, Sergio, and some other senior management staff found them at the coffee shop and they received their instructions about what to do next.
They were all to head to the hotel next to the circuit and the drivers were to start up their typical training regimes. Arriving so early before the race allowed them to do some press and sponsorship events, and there would also be free time woven in. All in all, a fairly low-key schedule and it looked set to be a good week in her favourite country.
As Dylan made sure everything was secure in her rucksack, Max held his hand out in a fist in front of her.
"Next two." He announced, opening his hand to reveal two white pills in his palm.
Dylan laughed, taking the medication and swallowing them down. When she looked back at him, he was setting another timer for her next dose.
"Right, let's go!" Christian called and the team made their way to a minibus outside.
Heat enveloped her as the doors slid open and they stepped outside. It was that delicious feeling of stepping out into a new country with a warmer climate. Every English person could relate to it.
For Dylan, it never felt like a new country here though. Spain was as much her home as England was. The people, the culture, the community, she felt connected to all of it and was brimming with excitement at being back.
Hunter helped her into the mini bus and the pain meds were dutifully doing their job. As they set off towards the hotel, she watched the sights rush by. Large fountains, bustling crowds, beautiful architecture - she may be loyal to Madrid but Barcelona was undoubtedly beautiful and so rich in history and culture.
The hotel wasn't too far from the track and once they were inside, Christian and Brad headed up to the desk while the rest of them chilled around the sofas, waiting to be assigned their rooms for the next week or so.
She chatted with Hunter about the famous sights of the city as he'd never been before. There was La Sagrada Familia, Gaudi's famous unfinished building, as well as Park Guell, bursting with colour and joy. If they were granted the time, she'd love to drag him on one of those cringey city tour buses and properly take in the town like a tourist. She hadn't done one of those tours since she were a child and it was a truly guilty pleasure of hers.
"Dylan, darling, can you come here for a sec?" Brad called over.
Hunter jumped up and pushed her over to the front desk, where Brad was looking perplexed, "They won't let us check in yet and I don't know why. Her English is better than my Spanish but we're both a long way from fluent."
"I got you." She laughed before turning to the poor receptionist, who could only have been about 18 or 19, "¿Hablas castellano?"
It was always good to check because Barcelona had its own regional language of Catalan. Although most spoke both Castilian Spanish and Catalan, you couldn't always be sure and there was quite a distinction.
"Sí, intenté decirles a tus amigos que tienen que darnos una tarjeta de crédito."
"Vale, ¿y luego podemos registrarnos?"
The girl nodded, clearly grateful that someone could understand her, "Sí, tengo todos sus datos. Esta es nuestra política para grupos grandes."
"Sí, sí, lo entiendo perfectamente. Simplemente se confundieron." Dylan looked up at Christian and Brad, who were looking slightly in awe of her, "Uh- Christian, they need the company credit card to facilitate the check in."
"Oh, crédito!" He smacked his hand against his forehead, "Damn it, I should've got that."
He reached into his wallet and pulled out a card, handing it over to the girl who began entering the details on her computer.
"¿Es todo?" Dylan asked.
"Sí, cogeré las llaves de su habitación en un segundo."
"¡Increíble, gracias! We're all good, guys."
They all received their room cards and went their separate ways to rest up and refresh after the journey. Hunter helped Dylan up to her room and followed her inside, looking around at the décor.
The space was nice and she had a big double bed in the centre, with a desk and sofa off to the side. Both Netflix and Red Bull were never unfair to junior members of staff in hotel rooms, everyone received decent accommodation.
Dylan pushed herself out of the stupid wheelchair and gently eased down onto the big bed. The mattress cushioned the movement and she knew it was already be a good night's sleep tonight. To her surprise, Hunter sat down on the sofa, looking a bit concerned.
"You alright?" She asked, propping herself up against some pillows and relishing in the feeling of being able to move autonomously again without wishing for death. Yes, it was due to riding the wave of some seriously strong medication, but it was still a luxury.
"What happened in Hasselt?"
She faltered, caught off guard by the random question, "Um- what?"
"You brushed over it the other day." He took a breath, "But seriously, since you've come back, something's changed."
"Nothing's changed like that much." She protested.
"Right." Hunter deadpanned, "You may have excuses for the sudden heaps of content you have or the way he defended you in the interview but you can't tell me that it's normal that Max carried you up the plane stairs, insisted you sat next to him, and then let you fall asleep in his arms."
Dylan's mouth gaped open, "I- uhm, well..."
There wasn't really anything she could say. He was right on the money and all he'd done was objectively observe Max's actions, which to him must have been completely unusual, especially after so many weeks of being the only person Dylan ever vented or cried to over Max's previous behaviour.
"So what happened in Hasselt?" Hunter persisted.
"Nothing!" She paused as Hunter shot her a look, "I'm serious- nothing happened! I just...I don't know, I got to meet his mum and spend time with him in a different way and he stopped being so awful to me. I understand him better now and we just started getting along, I guess?"
"I knew it! I knew I wasn't going insane, I can see there is something different between you. It's not friendship though, you care for him, don't you?"
Dylan opened her mouth to deny it but no sound came out. She'd known for a while that she was moving past basic attraction and falling in too deep and too quickly for someone who didn't reciprocate those feelings. Lily had warned her but she couldn't help herself.
When Max had run into the Red Bull room after her accident, utterly panicked until he saw she was okay, something in her was irrevocably done for. She'd resigned herself to it.
There was no point lying to Hunter. He could see straight through her anyway.
"There may be some slightly complicated feelings there." She admitted, "But they're just for me, okay? I'm aware of how stupid it is and I'm trying to get over it."
Hunter scoffed, "Get over it? Are you insane? Why would you do that?"
"Seriously? Where to begin?" She replied, "Just off the top of my head there's the fact that we work together, that my cousin insists I stay away from him, and that I'm pretty sure he has absolutely zero interest in me."
"I would literally laugh if I didn't know you were absolutely serious about that. You actually believe he has no interest in you."
"Trust me, he's made it crystal clear this season."
"Doll, the man can't take his eyes off you. He almost blew his race for you. His media interviews from Miami can't even be used because of how worried he was. I literally saw him, he could barely answer a single question. And you don't think he likes you?"
Dylan considered his words, wondering for the first time if Max had punched Charles in defence of her, not over his ruined pit stop. He'd certainly been extremely caring since her accident. She had to admit Hunter had a point, but then Max hadn't spoken to her all weekend before the race. She couldn't get over everything that had happened before.
"I see what you're saying. But you're forgetting how many weeks he spent absolutely hating me."
Hunter joined her on the bed, wrapping her in a tight hug, "Sometimes guys don't handle things in the right way. It's not natural for us to think about feelings and romantic stuff in the same way that girls do. But I would keep an open mind if I were you, my Nana always said 'it ain't over till the horse is tied to the fence'."
Dylan laughed, "You are so southern, Hunter."
In the moment, she felt a surge of gratitude for his friendship; truly, he'd had her back the entire time and carried her secrets along with her when she was hiding so much. She didn't even have to ask him to keep this to himself, she could trust him wholeheartedly.
"I'm so happy I met you, Hunter. Thank you for being such a good friend to me."
"Oh doll." He sighed, kissing her on the side of the head, "In another life, I think you'd be my soulmate."
She smiled at him gently, "Not this life?"
"No." He whispered, unusually quiet, "I think you know who you're meant for in this life."