𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮
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"You want a bet?"
Her sudden proposition catches me off guard as I was too drawn out by the little touches I received from her fingertips. I turn to look at her, her eyebrow raised in a challenging manner, making me fight the smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
"Why such a sudden proposition?" I ask, trying to match her playful tone. She shrugs in response, tugging her hair behind her ear as she answers, "Someone once told me that a bet can make a person feel better."
I'm biting my lower lip, barely able to contain my grin as I stop in my track and turn to face her fully. "Voice it out, Lopez."
A mischievous glint shines in her pink eyes, vanishing away the sadness that had lingered there just a moment before. She acts like she's thinking, looking at the sky with a thoughtful expression, and I take a moment to contemplate her beauty.
Her brown eyes shine brighter than honey under the sunlight, radiating a warmth that is hard to resist. Her skin is flawless and smooth, and I'm afraid that my fingertips might scratch its perfection. Her face lights up with the little smile she holds at her playful proposal, her dimples appearing like secret treasures and her few freckles spreading across her cheeks like constellations.
She is so perfect that I'm scared.
I'm scared to touch her and tarnish her perfection. I'm scared to hold on to her and she slips away like morning dew. I'm afraid to look at her for too long that I get lost in her and never find my way back.
Incluso tengo miedo de amarla porque sé muy seguro que mi amor no será suficiente para ella.
Y que lo que más me aterra.
"Okay, let's change a little bit," she starts, finally meeting my gaze, "If you win today's race, I'll have to treat you with something. But if you don't, then you'll have to treat me. How about that?" Her excitement is palpable, as the thrill of competition seems o be running in her veins.
I consider her proposal for a moment, just an excuse to enjoy her close presence for a little longer. I take my time, weighing the options in my mind, before finally giving her a nod before I ask, "Why such changes to the usual bets?"
We start walking again, and the exit of the cemetery not far away. But I wished it was miles away from us. I wanted the minutes to last longer and the world to come to a halt, just for me to savor a few more moments with her.
Pero son sólo deseos.
"I don't know," she begins, "Maybe to encourage you more to give your all in that race and not hold back."
My heart sinks in my stomach as the meaning behind her words settles down.
"From what I know so far," she continues, "Every year, you lose the Spanish GP race. What's surprising is that you don't lose, but you hold back yourself in purpose and stay in second place," She is silent for a moment before she looks up at me and mumbles, "Why?"
As I listen to her, a mixture of worry and vulnerability rushes through me.
She is right, not a word wrong.
From the day I started my career in Formula 1, I've always avoided winning in the Spanish race, I always compete at my best but give up the final push and let another driver win unintentionally. Some people have noticed my pattern and questioned my motives, but no one has ever confronted me so directly.
I take a deep breath, calming my nerves and trying to find the right words to explain myself to her.
"Sometimes, the fears from the past don't let the fear of failure surface, I start, my voice wavering slightly, "Winning doesn't feel like winning when it's in a place where you lost a lot."
I look down at her, watching the realization of my words start to flush across her face, but I don't let go deeper as I divert our conversation, "Plus, I'm more interested in winning in another race."
Our feet hit the pavement of the cemetery's exit, I turn around to face her, disappointment lingering at me at the realization that our time together is coming to an end.
"Oh yeah?" she faces me, raising an eyebrow with curiosity, "Which race is that?"
"La de tu corazón."
"I'm starting to get offended by you all using foreign languages around me," she finishes with an eye roll, making a slight chuckle leak out of my lips.
We stand there, in the soft glow of the early morning sun, enjoying the bittersweet of the silence hanging between us. Silence envelops us, but not our eyes as they radiate with secret messages, unspoken words passing between us. Her hair leaves the back of her ear, and I fight the urge to tuck it back.
"You should go," she starts, "You have so many things to do before the lights are out."
I hate that she had to say so and that she is right. A lot of shit is waiting for me back at the race track, from meetings with fans to final preparations for the upcoming race. I wished we could enjoy our moment a bit longer, far from the worries of the outside world, just me and her, in our own world. But reality calls, and duty beckons.
With a heavy heart, I nod in agreement. She nods back before starting to walk away toward the horizon. I wished I could run right now and kidnap her, whisking her away to a paradise where there are no worries or constraints.
But I'm sure she will hit me on the head once I'll try to pick her up.
"And Rafe," she suddenly turns around, catching my attention. She pauses, a lovely smile curling up on her lips, "Sometimes, one win is all it takes to erase all the losses that came before."
Her words resonate deeply within me, making a ghost of a smile dance across my figure as I whisper to myself. "Sí, ganándote, mi sol."
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"Ladies and gentlemen, please stand for the national anthem of Spain."
Standing ahead of the whole grid, I watch as the whole audience comes together in unity, showing their respect and support for our nation and the incredible sport of Formula 1.
The rhymes of the Spanish anthem fill the air, the words repeated in a high tone by the fans who are proudly holding their flags and wearing their red colors.
I look out at the crowd, their excitement for the race is palpable. They never gave up on believing in me and the team, though I've never been able to serve them a win in my previous races here in Spain. Their support and unwavering belief are evident as they shout out the theme with pride and passion.
The sight in front of me lights up my spirit, waking up a flame of determination and motivation in me as Eleanor's world repeats nonstop in my head, not letting any bad thought dampen my spirit.
Applause fills the air as the national anthem concludes, and the crowd erupts in cheers. I take deep breaths and soak in the energy from the crowd, getting myself ready for what's coming. I listen to the shouting coming from the grandstands, the chants of "¡Vamos Rafe!" echoing through the air.
I walk to the pit lane, putting on my racing suit as the voices around me grow louder, making the anticipation unbearable and the adrenaline rushing through my veins.
"Hey Alvarez," a voice calls out from behind me, and I turn to meet the familiar face of the Redbull driver, Scott. "Too bad, they still believe you'll win," he smirks, his words determined to shake my confidence. I look at him blankly, fixing my suit's collar before he starts again, "You don't need to tell me what's the plan, bud. I'll make sure to overtake you on the last lap."
His smirk grows, expecting his words to annoy me. But all I give him is a smile, watching his grin falls slowly as I respond calmly, "I hope the back of my car is a good view for you."
His grin falls into a frown as I give him a wink and a grin. He steps away to prepare for the race, and I turn my back, rolling my eyes at his childish attempt to psych me.
"Don't let him distract you, mate," Luke says as he approaches me with a pat on the back. "He's just trying to get into your head." I nod in agreement, grateful for Luke's support and presence before he leaves the same, his car ahead of mine.
As I put on my helmet and gloves, I can't help but feel the weight of expectations on my shoulders. I secure my helmet snugly, the familiar click echoing in my ears. placing myself in the cockpit, I take a moment to focus my mind, close my eyes and focus on one thought.
Or one person.
The brown eyes flash in my mind, and I focus on the warmth they hold, pushing aside all my memories and all external distractions. As I open my eyes again, the time slows down as the first red light appears on the starting grid. Putting down my visor with a determined click, I ready myself to face the challenges that lie ahead in the upcoming race.
The second red light appears, and I let out a calming breath, focusing ahead of me.
The third light illuminates, and I look at the rear mirror of the Redbull car ahead, Scott's sharp stare reflecting at me.
The fourth red light comes out, and I bring my hand to my face and blew a kiss on his reflection.
The fifth and final light distinguishes, and the roar of the engines fills my surroundings as I slam my feet on the pedals, feeling the power of the engine surging through my body as the car launches forward.
And the race begins.
The racing cars zoom down the straight line, only some feet away from each other as they jostle for position. I strategically position myself within the track width, keeping an eye on my competitors while maintaining a precise line.
The first turn approaches and my eye catches the car in front of me touching the tire of the apex, causing a slight wobble and crashing into the driver next to him. The two cars spin out of control, creating a chaotic scene ahead of me. Remaining focused on the race, I maneuvered my car, avoiding the wreckage and gaining an advantage by overtaking those unfortunate drivers.
"Okay, Rafe," the engineer chimes in through the radio, "You're P9 now, keep pushing." The line goes silent again, and I refocus on the race. "Okay, little red," I whisper to myself, "let's see how far we can go."
As the race progresses, I keep my mind focused on making swift and calculated decisions. No thoughts of my past are in my mind, as the brunette lady's face continues to be my companion through every turn and straightaway. Every time the crying face of my mother tries to pop up in my thoughts, her smiling face pushes it aside. Whenever the chaos and the sad screaming threaten to distract me, her joyful laugh echoes in my ears. Every little detail of her, her smallest smile, the slightest glim in her eyes, the least glow in her skin, keeps me in control.
Finalmente puedo sentir que estoy en casa.
"Box, box this lap," the engineer breaks in through the radio, interrupting my thoughts. The last I refused to pitstop got me bad results. "What's the time gap to the car behind?" I ask, ready to calculate my pitstop strategy.
"It's currently 1.5 seconds," the engineer responds, "we suggest you pitstop now to avoid the risk of losing position."
"Copy that," I reply acknowledging the advice. I push the car further, determined to make the gap between me and the following car even wider before heading to the pitstop. As I approach the pitlane, I notice the pit crew ready and waiting, their bright red uniforms standing out against the backdrop of the bustling pit lane. I smoothly bring the car to the designated spot, and the crew immediately springs into action, changing the tires and refueling the car. The efficient teamwork of the pit crew ensures a quick and precise pit stop, and I hit the track again with the following driver not far away, but I manage to maintain my position.
The race continues with intensity, each lap bringing new challenges and opportunities to prove my skills. I've gained some positions and I'm now P4, steadily closing to the podiums and the thrill of victory.
I'm overtaking Luke's car on the outside of turn 5, passing by his car when he waves at me like some young lady waving at some sexy well-built man she met on the beach. Trying to pull out a playful banter, though the seriousness of the situation, I pull out my middle finger, making sure he saw it and I zoom past him as he puts his hand on his chest dramatically, pretending to be deeply shocked by my audacity.
I chuckle to myself, giving myself a little moment of lightheartedness.
But it flashes away quickly as soon as I notice the next car ahead and I get back to focusing on the race. As I approach the Aston Martin driver, he puts some competition by closing the opportunities of overtaking, making it hard for me to find a strategic opportunity.
We're wheel to wheel, with me trying to find the perfect moment to make my move and with him making sure that never happens. The competition is fierce, making my nerves heighten and my determination stronger.
As the straightaway comes, I take a few seconds to calculate my move and analyze the situation. Once I hit its entrance, I activate my DRS and make the daring decision to take the inside line, utilizing my car's superior speed and maneuverability to gain the upper hand. I execute my move flawlessly, smoothly overtaking the Asron Martin driver and securing my position ahead of him.
"Good job, Rafe," the engineer informs me over the radio, the other team members cheering up in the background, "This is the result you always hope for, you can relax now and focus on keeping your position until the end of the race."
"Oh no, Matt," I stop him before he cuts the line, "There is a little change, this year." I could feel him confused on the other end of the line. I grip the steering wheel, looking straight ahead at the track as I continue.
"This year, we win."
I slam my foot on the accelerator and push the limits of my Ferrari car even harder, determined to secure the victory and bring a trophy to all the Spanish fans who are screaming their lungs out with support.
"Somebody call that ashole of Scott, warn him that I'm coming for him."
As I continue to push the boundaries of my driving skills and navigate the few laps left, I remain focused and determined to maintain my position ahead of the other drivers and get closer to the Redbull car ahead.
Speak of the devil.
There it is, just a few hundred meters away.
As I approach it, adrenaline pumps through my veins as I start to plan my next move to attempt an overtake. I catch Scott looking back at me through his rearview mirror, a hint of worry in his eyes. He starts to put a little bit of competition by closing my opportunities, weaving from side to side on the track to defend his position.
I maintain my calm and patience, carefully analyzing his every move, and calculating the best moment to strike. I notice a slight gap in his defense as we approach a tight corner and I seize the opportunity. Adjusting my seating position and grip on the steering wheel, I take a deep breath and whisper under my breath, "Okay red, one more time, and we finish this damn race with a bang!"
With a surge of confidence and determination, I unleash the power of my car and make a bold maneuver to slip past the Redbull car, reclaiming my pole position. I can't help but feel a rush of exhilaration as I hear the cheers of the crowd and the ecstatic voices of my team members in my earpiece. I relax into a steady rhythm as the finish line comes into view. I maintain my lead, crossing my path to victory with a sense of triumph and satisfaction.
The checkered flag waves and the crowd roars in celebration. I raise my fist in the air as a symbol of victory, acknowledging the support and dedication of fans that have been waiting for this for years.
I could feel the weight of the moment as I finally bring my car to a stop in the winner's circle. Andrenaline still filling my veins, I step out of the car and into the embrace of my teams, receiving a few taps on my back and words of congratulations. The Spanish flag waved high in the sky and the voices of fans reached the same pitch as my heart paced with pure exhilaration and satisfaction.
She was right. So fucking right.
A win can make you forget all the pain and grief you ever had to experience. It finally gives this place something to cherish, something happy, something satisfying.
Something that feels like home.
"Hey, mate!" Luke brings me out of the embrace of the team, facing me with a sweaty face and a wide smile. "You forgot something on the track," he pulls out his middle finger with a mischievous grin. I eye it before we both burst out into laughter, him taking me in a brotherly bear hug.
Spain heard its national anthem twice that day.
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