I wanna be happy
Could you show me
How it's done?
- Tom Odell
22
Max Verstappen
I knew this moment was coming and yet receiving his message made me sick. Literally.
Armand: See you tomorrow, darling.
I'm crouched on the edge of the toilet next to my driver's room, vomiting up everything I managed to eat today, not much in the end.
My hands are shaking slightly. Of course, my blood sugar doesn't like all the ups and downs.I sit on the floor and try to catch my breath. With my legs bent against my chest I hold the tears that threaten to roll down my cheeks.
I don't want him to touch me again. I don't want to hear the sound of his voice, I don't want to smell his scent or recognize the sound of his footsteps. I never want to see him again. I want him out of my life, now that I have Charles.
I still have one more interview before the end of the day. I can do it. I have to. We don't want others to ask questions. I don't want my father to see me like this.
I slip my hand into my pocket and pull out a strawberry lollipop. I need to regain my energy and breathe.
I throw away the wrapper and slowly get up, deleting the notifications that come from Armand.I go out of the bathroom and check in the mirror to make sure I don't look too sick before joining my team for the interview.
I answer questions as I'm asked to do and smile when appropriate. I pretend to be interested and laugh at the jokes of the other drivers around me.
As soon as I'm finally done, I hurry to pick up my car from the parking lot and go to the hotel where I know Charles is staying.
I park the car in a parking lot a bit far away so as not to attract attention and I hurry to meet him in his room.
I just want to have a good night with him, feel his skin against mine, his body heat against mine and his fingers against my skin. I want to forget that tomorrow his caresses will be replaced by someone else's blows. That his hugs will be replaced by muscles that will keep me from running away.
I want to forget how dirty I'm going to feel, that I won't be able to look myself in the eye anymore, and that Charles doesn't deserve a piece of trash like me.
Charles knows something's wrong, but he's amazing as always, and he doesn't make me talk when I don't have the courage.
I wish I could be in his arms forever, knowing nothing more than the security of his presence.I didn't get much sleep that night. I watch the Monegasque next to me breathing calmly. He's so pretty.
I run my fingers over his arms and face, trying to tattoo the feeling of his soft skin into my mind. I end up putting my lips on his before going and watching him open his eyes slightly.
"Max?
- Shhh... keep sleeping, I'm going back to my hotel.
- See you on the circuit, then?
- Yeah..."
I hurry to get my things and leave the room with my heart beating with remorse.My phone's already vibrating. Armand will probably be waiting for me in my driver's room so I have to find a way to avoid him as much as possible.
I'll change in the bathroom if I have to.
The last time I saw Armand, he beat me up because he was jealous of Charles.Now that he saw that Charles had posted a story on Instagram and that I was on it, I think he's capable of pretty much anything.
I'm going straight to the racetrack and heading towards the McLaren garage. I take out my phone and delete notifications from Armand's messages without looking at them.
With my hands trembling and my heart beating, I'm about to do something I hate to do.
Max: Daniel, I need your help.
Ask for help.
I hope the Australian isn't still asleep. Lately, ever since he's been at McLaren's, he's not really himself.
But my phone starts vibrating and his name appears on the screen a few seconds after I send my message.
"Max? Is everything all right?
- Not really, I'm on the track and... I can't go to my driver's room...
- What are you already doing on the circuit? I'm getting ready and coming, you're coming with me.
- You know we're not allowed to do that.
- It doesn't matter. Let me handle it."
I'm in my friend's driver's room walking in a circle in silence. After several minutes he finally speaks.
"Max, can you tell me what's going on, you know?"
I don't know what to say. Obviously, I can't tell him about Armand, or Charles, or anything else. If people don't know then it doesn't really exist and I'm not sick, I'm not a victim of violence, I'm not attracted to a man.
"I know you're hiding a lot of things from me and I don't blame you, I know it's hard for you. You know I would never judge you for anything, right?
- Daniel, can you pick up my stuff from my driver's room? There's not a lot of people in the garage yet, so if you put on a redbull sweatshirt with the hood, you should go unnoticed.
- Yes, I can do that. "
When Daniel comes back from my driver's room with my stuff and a smile on his face, I feel the pressure drop slightly.
"Did you... Was anyone there?
- In your driver's room? No.
My shoulders are loosening and Daniel notices it.
- Are you trying to avoid someone?"
I nod my head, eyes on the ground, uncomfortable.
Daniel's smart, and he knows very well that I will not tell him any more about this today.
He puts his hand on my shoulder and sighs.
"We should get ready for qualifying. "
I can feel my phone still vibrating in my pocket.
***
Armand: I can't wait to see you again.
Armand: We have a lot to talk about.
Armand: I missed you a lot.
Armand: I love you so much.
Qualifying is going well, but Charles' sad gaze grabs my heart. I know I shouldn't pretend he doesn't exist, but I can't look him in the face knowing that Armand's out there somewhere willing to make me pay if I dare smile at someone else.
I'm just focusing on tomorrow's race, I mean, that's what I'm trying to make it look like.
***
Raceday
I haven't received any new messages from Armand since last night.
After a lot of thinking, I decided to go to my driver's room to get ready before the race.
Except this time, he's here, in my driver's room.
I freeze completely, my hand still on the wrist of the door. My brain screams at me to turn around, but my body can't react.
I look at the man who smiles at me maliciously. He approaches me quietly in a relaxed air.
"Max, I've missed you so much. How are you, darling?
My body seems to unblock and I quickly close the door to make sure no one hears him.
- I don't want to see you. Never again.
- Stop being so dramatic. I'm really sorry for the last time, you really have a knack for annoying me sometimes, but that's why I love you.
- I'm not kidding.
- Neither do I. I know you went to see Charles this week. I know you're doing this to make me jealous. But you know, my heart is already all yours.
- I don't give a shit, I don't want you.
- I have a proposition. We forget everything that happened. You forget about our fight last time, and I forget what happened with Charles.
- No.
- What do you mean, no?
- I don't want to forget and I don't want you anymore.
- I mean, Max, you know damn well it's not gonna happen like that.
- Why?
- Because if you leave, everyone will know who you really are. You don't want to, do you?
- No, I don't want to. I whisper gently imagining the video all over the social networks. Imagine my family, my friends, Charles seeing this. Humiliation.
He puts his hand on my face. It's not a gentle gesture.
- See, that's not what you want. I don't blame you, darling, I understand.
- I have to get ready for the race.
- We have a little time ahead of us to do something much more enjoyable.
I feel his hands go under my sweater and come into direct contact with the skin on my belly. A shiver of fear and disgust runs through me.
- I don't want to.
- You'll see, you'll like it.
I can feel his fingers starting to lift my shirt and his body moving closer to mine.
- Stop it.
- Max... be a good boy for once."
He takes off my sweater and T-shirt abruptly before slamming me against the wall violently. I'm stuck between his body and the wall.
I'm starting to let myself go as usual, to make things go faster and to avoid drawing attention to my driver's room.
But Armand's fingers are cold and sore on my skin. I don't want them.
I feel he's starting to undo my pants but I'm already somewhere else far away in my thoughts.
I'm thinking about Charles. His soft hands, his radiant smile and his reassuring voice. I feel like I'm betraying him. All I want to do is feel his hands on my body and no one else's.
I don't want to feel Armand's fingernails on my back. I don't want him to undress me in spite of my protests.
All I want is Charles and no one else. I don't want to let that happen anymore.
My consciousness suddenly comes back into my body and I suddenly feel Armand's fingers in places they never should have been.
It hurts.
I open my eyes and raise my arms, pushing back with all my strength Armand who stumbles awkwardly.
"What the hell are you doing!"
I don't listen to him. He's coming back to me, resting his hand on my bare hip.
My fist closes and lands violently on his face. I don't know what's going on in my head, but I can't stop hitting him. I hit him on the chest, on the stomach and on the face, crying.
He begged me to stop, and I ended up doing it.
I walk away from him and hurry to get dressed for the race. He's still on the ground when I'm done.
"I'll call the police as soon as you start the race. I'll show them what you did to me. They'll be happy to take you to the precinct in front of the whole world when you're done.
- If you do that, you know damn well you'll be the wrong one. All I have to do is show them my bruises. And your DNA is inside me.
- If you do it, the video I got will go all over the Internet. "
My blood is freezing. I don't want to. I'm trapped.
"Happy last race, Max. I can't wait to see how your fans'll react when they'll hear you beat a man."
I slam the door of my driver's room behind me.
I know Armand will call them. This race may be the last. I can't believe he's going to ruin my career. I shouldn't have fought back.
I drive like it's the last time. I give everything. I take a lot of risks, but I don't care. I just want to win one last time.
Strangely, the race goes by too fast. I'm trying not to cross the eyes of Charles who came second.
I don't want him to see my distress. I still feel like throwing up from the stress. The policemen are probably already here.
I climb to the podium slowly, feeling like I'm on the stage where I'm going to be executed.
I receive my trophy and open the bottle of champagne but I quickly notice the two men in uniform approaching me. That's it.
Charles crosses my eyes and I can no longer hide my fear from him.
My career is over.