August 6th.
Max's POV.
To say that the air has been thick with tension all morning between me and Micah, would be an understatement. I've been ignoring her, mainly because I don't know how to face her after last night's incident. Yes, I'm able to recognize that I shouldn't have said all those things. But at the same time, I barely know the woman. How am I supposed to just blindly trust her? The mere thought of a complete stranger snooping around my bedroom, invading my privacy so intimately, is enough to send chills down my spine. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. Even though part of me thinks her words seemed believable enough when she swore she hadn't been inside of it. The conflicting emotions inside of me made it so I'd much rather avoid her presence or ignore it completely than stand in front of her for too long.
So, I spoke to Nick. He let me know where all the cameras were set up and I ignored the strange feeling of cameras pointing at me from every direction inside my own home as I made myself a breakfast pre-workout smoothie. That was the plan for today, I had a training session at the gym, and I'd be followed there by Nick and the twins. Thankfully, they were only there to film my work out, so there was no need for an interview, and therefore Micah was left to her own devices. I didn't have to be a genius, though, to realize that she was looking right at me when she casually mentioned she was going out to explore Monaco by herself while we were out. Probably in an attempt to reassure me that she wouldn't be anywhere near my things. I didn't reply, though. Not because I was trying to be rude, but because I wasn't sure of what to say. I found myself blurting out nonsense in front of her more often than not, for some reason, and I was trying to avoid that.
Nick and I arrive at the gym to meet up with my trainer, Brad. And as soon as we get there we see that Winnie and Oliver are already there with their camera set up all ready to go. Winnie is pretty cool, although I get the feeling that she doesn't like me very much and I guess that's got all to do with my not-so-friendly relationship with Micah. However, Oliver's a whole different can of worms. No matter how hard I try (which honestly isn't very hard), I can't seem to get over the bad vibe I get from him. I simply don't like the guy. There's something in the way that he carried himself like he always owns the place, like he knows he's better than everyone. Some people might say it's confidence, I say he's just a douche. Still, everyone else seems to love him, so what the hell do I know?
"Hey, mate! Are you ready for the day? I already sent you the routine, I don't know if you had the chance to take a look at it." Brad tells me with a smile on his face. From the first moment the documentary became a real possibility, I knew I wanted Brad to feature on it. He'd just opened new gym facilities and if I could do something to help promote his business, I was going to do it.
"Yeah, I saw. I think you're trying to kill me." I joke as we shake hands and clap each other's backs. Turning to Winnie and Oliver, I smile politely at them. "Hey, I hope it wasn't too difficult for you to set everything up here?"
"Hi! It wasn't, everyone's been really accommodating." the girl replies, nodding at me as she moves to stand behind the camera. "Do you mind if we start shooting now? We want to get as much raw footage as we can. The more, the better." she asked tentatively, as if she was trying not to pressure me into breaking the usual genuineness that reigned between Brad and I as soon as we put our heads into what we had to do.
"Yeah, no problem." I said. I looked over at Oliver, only to find him looking at me with a frown on his face. "What?" I asked. That seemed to shake him up, nearly jumping in his spot on the ground. He hadn't even said hello to me, and now he was giving me dirty looks for no reason? I'm telling you, the vibes are off.
"I didn't say anything." he replied, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to look nonchalant but he only managed to look even more pathetic.
"You didn't have to. I'm not stupid. What's the deal?" the tension in the air was palpable, but he seemingly didn't have the guts to say what was on his mind because he stayed quiet. "Next time you have something you want to say, say it to my face." I dared, topping it off with a sarcastic grin before I picked up the boxing gloves from the cabinet behind him, moving past his frame not really caring if he didn't get out of the way to let me pass.
If he had a problem with me, then he was going to have to get over it real fast, because I wasn't going anywhere and sadly, neither was he.
—————-
Micah's POV.
I find myself trying to kill as much time as I can so I'm not left alone in Max's house for long. I know I no longer have anything to prove because I'm pretty sure he believed me when I told him I hadn't gone inside his room, but still, I couldn't help but feel just a little less welcome in the house than I did before. So there I was, sitting in a very aesthetically pleasing coffee shop in Monaco. Scandinavian style furniture filled the room, and greenery lined every corner, the myriad of different kinds of plants made the place look like a bit of a jungle. But the coffee was great and the pastry I was enjoying was even better.
I had tasked myself with tracing a line through Max's recent career downward spiral, the actual reason why Red Bull felt it was necessary to clean his name with a documentary in the first place. His performance athletically speaking was damn near perfect, he was breaking records left and right in what would surely go down in history as one of the most dominant seasons in the sport since the Championship was invented in 1950. His problem clearly wasn't inside the car. It was what happened as soon as he took off the helmet and a microphone was placed in front of his mouth. It was as if he just couldn't control his impulses and he just had the impending urge to say whatever was on his mind. And you see, honesty can be a good thing, but not when it makes you look like an entitled asshole. Or maybe I was simply biased because I was yet to see the best of him, the parts that made me rethink my opinion of him.
During my research session, which consisted mainly of endless scrolling through 'Max Verstappen' social media tags and googling his name incessantly, there were three clips that came up time and time again. So much so, that they seemed to be engrained into my brain permanently at this rate.
The first one was taken from a press conference where an out of line reporter asked him about whether his father's presence was a negative or a positive influence on him during race weekends, given their supposed rocky relationship. While certainly poignant, the question had nothing to do with his craft or what he was sitting there to talk about. So, it wasn't really that surprising when his eyes filled with pure icy cold and his lips molded the words precisely into the microphone: "Fuck you. He's my dad. He wouldn't be here if I didn't want him to be. You know nothing about our life or our relationship, it's none of your god damn business—." And with that his microphone was cut off, Max looking extremely offended at the FIA's media team for shutting him out as he cursed the journalist out. It only served to anger him more, pointing his finger directly at the media panel as he yelled even with a turned off mic. "You let them ask me any fucking thing and then you won't let me defend myself? It's just crazy! It's nonsense!" The silence that filled the media room was deafening and that's exactly where the video ends. It was clear that his family was a touchy subject, and I know all about Jos Verstappen's past allegations from previous instances of research I had done. I can't imagine what it must feel like to have your parents' lives dug up out of nowhere for the entire world to see. As someone who never had the best relationship with my own father, I can certainly relate to wanting to stay out of their issues as much as possible. Plus, I didn't know anything about the situation, who was I to jump to conclusions about a complete stranger's life?
The second clip is a bit more unclear. A blurry, distant recording shows Max glaring at a group of fans holding up their own phones to film him as he points yet another accusatory finger at them and blows up right outside the paddock entrance. "You won't get shit from me like that! I don't owe you anything. I'm just here to drive. Leave me the fuck alone!" My eyebrows furrowed immediately. What could they possibly have done to warrant such a reaction from him? Then again, what had I done for him to treat me the way he sometimes does? Could this just be him showing up to a race in a mood and berating these poor fans? Or was there an underlying cause to such a display of anger?
And the last clip was the one that had been circulating all over the internet for the past two months or so. It was a video taken after the Monaco race, when Max and Kevin Magnussen had been involved in a serious crash when Kevin had pushed too hard while using slicks in rainy conditions. It was already a ridiculous strategy from the Haas team, but as soon as both cars were forced to retire after Magnussen's car punted Max's side pod, the latter was exiting his cockpit to grab the Dane by the top of his racing suit. "Are you and your stupid team trying to get us all killed?!" he yelled. The rain only made everything more dramatic as it soaked the both of them and Kevin tried his best to apologize while Max was having none of it and kept shaking him with force. Apparently the incident had been resolved privately, according to sources close to both teams, and by the time the press conference rolled around they were able to sit together and explain the events of the crash in a much more calm manner. Still, the fans (and the press) had been having a field day picking apart every thing from Max's body language to the words he spat out at Kevin, and the incident had been labeled unsportsmanlike, ending up with a warning from the FIA being issued at Max. Which in turn, only fueled the rumors and made people think they had a say in whether he was worthy or not of an F1 seat, despite being clearly the most skilled driver on the grid nowadays.
I left the café with a million unanswered questions all written in my journal. And I told myself I was going to find a way to ask Max if I could use some of this material in order to clarify what had gone down in those particular viral videos. Maybe that could be a good place to start for the second episode. I would obviously have to check with him first, and then with Red Bull. But something told me that getting him on board would be the more difficult task.
As I'm making my way through the streets of Monaco, my phone vibrates inside my pocket and I move to grab it with difficulty, still holding my laptop and a coffee cup in my hand. The caller ID brings an instant smile to my face, and I don't hesitate to answer quickly.
"Hey sis!" I tell my older sister Dana.
"Hey! How's the land of the wealthy? Got yourself a rich husband yet?" she joked, making me roll my eyes in mock delight even though she can't see me.
"Ughhh, I wish!" I said teasingly. "No, I've been just dealing with you-know-who's mood swings."
"Well, in theory he's very rich, and he's handsome, so-" I interrupt her because I know exactly where she's going and I honestly find it repulsive.
"Ew, no! Not him. We're polar opposites, we'd kill each other. Plus, he's not my type and I don't think I'm his either."
"What do you know about his type? You barely know the guy."
"You're right, but he definitely seems like the I only date models type." I say in a mocking tone.
"Fair enough." she says and hearing her chuckle makes my heart soar with happiness. God, I miss her so much.
"But how have you been? How's work?" I ask her. She's recently graduated university as an accountant and she's been working pretty much nonstop ever since. "Are you getting enough sleep?"
"You don't have to worry about me, little sis. That's what I'm here for." she speaks with determination, and although I know she means her every word, I can't help but worry. I'll never not worry. We're all the other has.
"Have you heard anything about them?" I ask. And I don't have to say their names for her to know who I'm talking about. Suddenly the air becomes thick with the topic we usually dance around. But it always ends up being addressed at some point because it's impossible for us to just ignore entirely.
"Not really. I saw Janet at the supermarket the other day. She said he's doing fine. Asked about you and even invited me over to meet the baby. I think she knows there's no way I'm ever stepping foot into that house again, but she was at least trying to play nice so there's that."
"At least there was no yelling involved." I speak softly, trying to remain civil about the situation as my eyes dance around, taking in the beautiful sights of my new city in order to distract myself from the pang of hurt that crosses my chest at the idea that our father really wants nothing to do with us. "I feel bad for the baby." It will always be the baby to us, the same way his son would forever be the kid. It just feels wrong to call two children we've never met and probably never will meet our siblings. We're all the siblings we need, my sister and I.
"Don't." said Dana. "Being raised by those two, the kids are probably going to turn out to be horrible people." she explained. And okay, maybe it was a bit cruel to talk that way about a bunch of kids who had done nothing wrong, but it's still difficult to disassociate their existence with our father's actions even before our mother's death. What kind of monster cheats on their sickly wife and then runs off to start a family with the mistress, and subsequently leaves his two daughters to fend for themselves after the most traumatic event of their lives? How were we supposed to forgive him? I knew I was never going to. I just couldn't. Forgiving him felt a lot like betraying my mom. And that's one thing my conscience just couldn't deal with. Not right now. So I kept him at arms length all the time.
"You're right. There's just no use thinking about it. Not when I have my career to worry about. And trust me, this guy isn't really making it so easy." And that's when I slipped right into my new favorite topic of conversation: how much Max Verstappen annoyed me until I wanted to rip my hairs out one by one.
Ironically, I did this as I was walking into his very own house and going straight into my room, dropping the weight off my shoulders against the cushions and welcoming the change of topic between my sister and I.
———
Neutral POV.
Late at night, Max found himself tossing and turning in his bed. He couldn't help but think about everything that had been going on in his life lately. It had started to feel like he was losing his grasp on reality, everything that kept him grounded to the world was beginning to slip away. He was losing his temper more often than not, and the media circus created around him only made him feel more paranoid. It felt like he had a target on his back constantly. There was nothing he could say or do to make people stop to ask how he was doing, to try to consider his point of view, to check on him and try to get to know him better without casting any judgements. And now he had lost the one last thing he valued: his privacy.
And yes, maybe he had overreacted about finding Micah standing in the hallway in front of his room. But if you looked at it from his perspective and took into consideration everything that had been going on in his life lately, it made sense for him to freak out once he felt like he was losing yet another part of his autonomy.
He gave up on sleep at around 2am, knowing already that the following day he was going to wake up in a bad mood from his lack of rest and he was already making up excuses inside his head to attempt to get out of the training session that Brad had scheduled for him. There's no way he was subjecting himself to the pain of locking himself up inside a gym when he hadn't been able to close his eyes for longer than ten minutes. So, with a long huff he got up from his bed and put on a pair of slippers before walking downstairs and opening up the glass sliding doors that led to the backyard.
The moon was glistening in the sky and casting the whole place in a shade of pearly white light. And that's where he found her. Her back to him as she stared out into the void at the end of his infinity pool. Her dark hair was wet and cascading down the long, tanned stretch of her back. Suddenly he felt the blood thicken inside his veins, his chest constricting at the sight he was tentatively approaching. Breaking the silence that enveloped them terrified him, well aware that together they were a ticking bomb and he wasn't ready for it to go off once again. Not tonight. Tonight he wanted peace. He needed peace.
However, it's not necessary to say a word because it's her who takes the first look at him, turning to look at him with piercing grey eyes finding his own in the midst of the night. It's as if they are suspended in time for a beat of a second. She's floating in his pool. He's standing there looking at her. "Can't sleep either?" she asks, voice merely a whisper, so much so that he thinks he imagined its sound at first.
He nodded.
"Your house is so big. Isn't it lonely?" she asks. And the vulnerability in her voice makes him forget, for a moment, that she's a journalist.
"Sometimes I can't tell if you're actually trying to start a conversation with me or just doing research." he says honestly, taking a seat by the edge of the pool, feet entering the water as he looks ahead at the horizon.
She doesn't answer right away, and he's scared he's said the wrong thing again, somehow. But then she looks at him again, and it's even better than the first time. It's as if she's punching him in the gut with the weight of her gaze. "Just a conversation." she says, holding her arms up in surrender.
The corners of his mouth lift slightly. "It can be lonely, I guess. But I'm never really here, so there's that." he confesses. She nods. "It's more of a future home, I think. I'd like to start a family here one day. That's why I bought the place, I don't know. I saw it and that's the first thing I thought during the tour of the property."
It was the first time he was so candid with her and it caught her off guard. She swam closer to him, lifting herself up and sitting next to him on the tiled edge of the pool. She was wearing a plain black t-shirt that reached a little above her knees. His eyes involuntarily focused on the goosebumps that the summer breeze formed across her sun-kissed thighs. And his throat felt dry for a moment before he forced himself to look away. Thankfully, she spoke first. "It does look like a great family home."
He wanted to say that he wasn't even sure what that looked like. His parents had never slept in the same room since he had any recollection of memories. And then after they divorced he went to live with his dad, and Vic stayed with their mom. He didn't know exactly what it took to make a family home. But he refrained from speaking because he didn't trust her like that. A soft sigh went past his plump lips and he rested both palms of his hands on the green grass behind him, leaning back slightly to look up at the sky. Breaking the content silence to say the words that had been dancing around in his brain all day. "I'm sorry I blew up like that last night." the sentence tasted foreign on his mouth. He wasn't used to apologizing, and if he was being honest he wasn't entirely sure about her yet. What kind of person was she? Should he trust her with his thoughts? He'd have to figure it out soon because this was only the beginning of the summer break and he'd be seeing a lot of her for the remainder of the year.
"I'm sorry I wandered around your house. I realize it was out of line. But I really mean it when I say I didn't go in your room."
He looked over at her and found her eyes on him already. "It caught me off guard. I don't... I don't deal well with change, I guess. And everything's changing."
"I get that." she whispered.
He could tell something was bothering her, but he also wasn't sure if he should press. After all, they weren't friends, they could barely stand each other on a good day. This short midnight truce didn't mean things would change. He knew that once the sun went up again things between them would go back to how they usually were. But right now there was silence.
Right then and there he was content. There was peace. And that's really all he ever wanted. So he said nothing.
Neither did she. After a few moments, she got up slowly, offered him a polite smile, and walked back inside, drying herself with a towel she had placed close to the door.
And he watched her. Every step. Every movement. He analyzed it closely. And as she walked further back into his house, he sat there, feet still in the pool, the moon shining over the water, and his mind at ease.
—————-
Hello guys!!
Finally a civil interaction between these two!! Although, I wouldn't get used to it if I were you haha. Who wants to guess how long that will last? lol
Thanks for being patient the past few days! You're the best! Hope you're enjoying reading the chapters as much as I'm enjoying writing them!
-Em