E> "Alright Alé, radio check."

"Loud and clear," I replied, adjusting my gloves.

My heart was drumming loudly in my chest. All I wanted to do was get on the race track and prove to myself that I could push this car to the absolute limit.

I wanted to make myself feel better. Convince myself I wasn't a complete failure.

The car roared to life as the engine started up, echoing in the garage. The familiar vibrations felt calming as I sat in the car, wiggling my legs a little.

One of the mechanics hurried out into the pitlane. He lifted his hand and pointed towards the exit, signaling it was safe to leave the garage. I found myself staring at the back of Lando's car as we exited the pit lane.

I started my out lap, focusing on getting my brakes and tires warmed up. I could see Lando out in front of me and Carlos's red coloured Ferrari in my mirrors.

Okay Alessandro, this is it. Time to get some laps in.

"Ok, you can start your flying lap," my engineer spoke on the radio as I neared the start line. A flying lap was a lap done at full speed, an attempt to get pole position and start first in the race tomorrow.

A few meters before the start, I pressed down on the throttle and picked up speed.

I didn't have much traffic on my lap, most cars moved out of the way as I came around for the second time.

E>"1:20.83. That puts you P9."

A>"What was Lando's time?"

E>"1:20.12. He's P7"

Cazzo. Still not fast enough.

E>"How's the car?"

A>"A little bit of understeer. Can you give me two clips down?"

There was silence on the radio before he replied.

E> "Yes, box and pit confirm."

I waited in the pits as the mechanics adjusted my front wing, bringing it down two levels. I hoped it would fix some of the issues I was having on the tighter turns.

By the time I was out on the track again, there were a lot more cars out.

"Please don't let me get traffic this lap," I muttered to myself as I started another flying lap.

There was a Williams in front of me as I neared turn 2, but it moved out of the way as I approached.

E>"Purple sector one. Great job Sandro."

I barely registered his words, focusing on pushing the car as much as I could. The track was divided into 3 sectors. Whoever drove a sector the fastest would get a purple sector.

As I rounded the corner turn 8, a car suddenly appeared in front of me, forcing me to slow down.

"What the fuck! I've got traffic on my lap," I exclaimed, whizzing past the Haas car that had interrupted my lap.

Pezzo di merda (piece of shit).

E>"Yeah, we saw that. Keep pushing. You've still got time."

I shook my head in annoyance and tried to channel my anger into the last sector of the lap. My pit stop meant I only had a few minutes before Q1 ended. And there was no way I was getting knocked out this time.

I approached the DRS zone that gave me an additional 8 mph of speed and hoped it was enough to push me into Q2.

"Please tell me that was a good one," I spoke as I crossed the line.

E>"1:19.68. That's P12 Alessandro. P12. You're in for Q2."

Thank fuck.

E>"Lando, is 1:18.79 and P2."

A>"Lando's P2?"

E>"Yes. He was purple sectors 1 and 3."

Ha. Great.

My nerves were through the roof as I sat impatiently in the car again. I sipped on my water, waiting for my mechanic to tell me it was clear to go out on track again.

E>"Everyone else is on softs, you'll go out before Lando this time."

I knew I had to get into Q3 to have a decent race. Qualifying higher up the grid would make the race ten times easier on Sunday.

As told, I went out ahead of Lando but behind Max and Sergio. There was only 7 other cars out by the time my warm up was done.

E>"Go for it."

The long straight leading up to turn one helped me gain a good amount speed.

I felt good about my lap as I went into sector two. Sector 3 was a breeze as well as I crossed the finish line.

E>"Purple sector 2. That would have put you P4."

"Would have?" I asked.

There was silence on the radio.

E>"Your lap time was deleted. Exceeding track limits turn 4."

A>"Are you fucking kidding me?"

E>"It's ok, you've got another lap. You have time for another lap."

I groaned in frustration, smacking my helmet. Suddenly, a new voice came over the radio.

"Good thing you went first this time. You can do this, get that lap time Alessandro," Zak spoke, his drawling accent filtering through my ears.

Easier said than done.

With one final push, I managed to get P8 by the end of Q2. At least I was able to fight for one of the top 10 spots instead of being stuck in the bottom 10. But I knew I could do better. I had it in me and the car definitely had a lot more to offer.

As I left the pitlane for my outlap, I spotted Dakota near the exit with Mark.

I raised my hand in a small wave, which she returned.

E>"Make full use of DRS. You know what to do."

With 2 minutes left on the clock in Q3, I began my flying lap.

I focused on the feel of the car. I had to hit every apex, use every kerb. Full focus. Just me and the car. Nothing else.

I could hear my engineer speaking in my ear as I finished each sector, but I tuned him out in the final stretch.

That was it. One flying lap was all I had.

E>"That's P5 for tomorrow, mate."

The wind was blowing hard as I sipped my drink, leaning against the railing. Just below me was the pitlane where mechanics were working on the cars. The view of the race track was beautiful.

Qualifying yesterday had been quite boring in all honesty. Mercedes qualifying fastest and second fastest, followed by Red Bull in third and fourth.

Lando managed to qualify 4th and was pretty satisfied with his result. The biggest surprise was Alessandro qualifying right behind him in P5. Only a 0.3 second difference between them.

He was getting better and better at managing the car and I was happy he was finally getting the hang of it.

Although I was technically supposed to be unbiased, I could already tell the McLaren duo was going to be my favorite team.

"Ready to go? Race starts in 20 minutes," Mark said as I finished the last sip of my Propel drink.

"I'm always ready," I replied, sprinting down the stairs to the motorhome.

"I win!" I cheered, slapping the wall of the portable building.

"Ha, ha, now get into your suit."

Mark was no fun sometimes.

I quickly changed into my race suit and tied my hair into a single braid. By the time I was out, I could hear the cars starting up.

The McLaren garage was right next to the FIA area where my car was waiting. Naturally, I decided to pay the papaya boys a visit.

Lando was already dressed in his blue suit, sipping on his water. He listened attentively as his engineer pointed with a pencil at a few things on the screen.

My eyes wandered over to Alessandro's side of the garage where his engineer was doing the same.

"So your number one goal should be to pass at least the front two cars before turn one."

"What if there's no room? I can't just take out half the grid while trying to get P2."

"Well you have to try. Zak wants you to keep it clean, but I think it's fine if you get a few touches. Try to keep damage minimal."

"What about Lando? He's in front of me."

"You're on the softs, he's starting on the hard tires. You'll have the better start off the line."

"And if we crash?"

"God Moreno, have a little faith," his engineer laughed, making me frown.

what the fuck?

Alessandro reluctantly nodded, running a hand through his hair. His race suit was tied around his waist, the tight fireproof undershirt making his muscles stand out.

He spotted me leaning against the wall and made his way over to me.

"Fancy seeing you here," he spoke.

"Hello to you too, Mr. Neighbor."

"Right, I forget you're next door."

"Ready to race?"

"Yeah, just making sure I have the strategy right," he muttered.

"Strategy A, take out half the grid before turn 1?"

He looked up at me, an amused expression crossing his face.

"You heard that?"

"Yeah, doesn't sound very ideal. But he's your engineer so I can't say anything."

"His idea's are always absurd. Sometimes I feel like he's trying to sabotage my race," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing. Anyways, where's your partner? Mark, is it?"

"Yes, but what did you mean ab-"

"Forget I said anything."

"Ales-"

"Kota! I've been looking for you, we're going to be late!" Mark called, standing outside our garage.

"Right. Coming!"

Alessandro was already pulling on his balaclava and helmet as I retreated from the McLaren garage.

He flipped up his visor and I didn't do much to hide the grim look on my face.

He gave me a nod before lowering himself into the car.

Show time.

---------------------------

C>"We're seeing two McLaren's catching each other, both in 7th and 8th. The Ferrari of Charles Leclerc is looking quite racy as well."

C>"Do you think Moreno can overtake Norris?"

B>"Well as of now his lap time is faster by two tenths, I wouldn't be surprised."

C>"We'll be watching these two closely. According to our data, Alessandro Moreno should be within striking distance in 5 laps."

I bit my lip as I watched the screen, the commentary running on the radio.

"Do you reckon they'll let em race each other?" Mark asked, looking at me through the gap in his helmet.

"Hm, maybe. As long as it doesn't risk any damage. They're both fairly civil anyways."

"As long as we don't get a repeat of Max and Daniel."

"Or Nico and Lewis," I added. "You never want to crash into your team mate."

"Very true."

C>"Here we go, both McLaren's within one second of each other! Going into turn 3, Moreno on the inside! And nope, he can't manage it."

"But he's got DRS on the straight, let's see if he can overtake."

"And he's through! Moreno has moved up into P6!"

An audible breath left my lips, earning a curious look from Mark.

"What?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Nothing! I never said anything!"

"Good," I replied, focusing on the tablet in front of me.

"You totally fancy him."

"I do not!"

"Oh please, you can't be more obvious," he rolled his eyes.

"Fuck off."

"Gladly."

I glared daggers at the screen, my cheeks burning.