😭😂

🏎 🏎

"Y'all, I just ran over a rat on my way here. I'd check up on the boys if I were you," I sighed, leaning against the glossy walls of the Mclaren garage.

Lando blinked, staring in confusion for a moment. Suddenly he began laughing so hard, tears began to pool in the corner of his eyes.

"Oh God, Kota why," he chuckled, scrunching his nose.

"What? I'm serious!" I exclaimed, trying to hold back a laugh.

"You have the worst jokes ever. I dunno why I even laughed at that."

"Oh no, our humor! It's broken!" I mocked. I found it highly amusing how Lando tried so hard not to laugh.

It wasn't a sin to admit I was funny. Hell, I was a goddamn comedian.

"Where's Mr. Grumpy?" I asked, looking around the garage.

It was oddly empty in the garage, people had started to get things ready for tomorrow. The tire blankets were being wrapped around the tire sets, each marked with either MOR or NOR which was highly satisfying.

"Track walk," he replied, taking a bit out of his carrot stick.

"Ah, I see."

"Said he wanted to talk to you by the way."

"Oh really?" I asked, raising my brow in surprise.

"Mhm. Dunno what about though," he shrugged.

"Weird, anyways, let him know I'm in the FIA garage. Oh also, mind giving this to him?" I asked, handing a sealed envelope to him.

"Sure, what is it?"

"Nothing your pretty little head has to worry about," I replied, giving him a condescending smile.

He frowned, flipping me off as I left the garage.

Alessandro and I had a weird dynamic. We weren't friends. He didn't care for me, and I didn't care for him. Or at least, I was trying not to. But at the same time, I could read him like a book. Because he was exactly like me.

I strived off of validation. As did he.

I wanted to be praised. I wanted to be acknowledged, not by myself, but by others. It was a reminder to myself that I wasn't a failure. I relied on others to recognize my talent and abilities.

And Alessandro was the exact same. He was competitive, stubborn, and a perfectionist.

He wanted things to go perfectly. But life was never perfect.

I learned that the hard way.

He and Lando had a great relationship, that was clear. But it didn't mean things were all rainbows and unicorns.

Monaco was a clear example of that.

Lando had finished on the podium, while Alessandro watched the champagne showers from below. He was meant to be on that podium. But just like every other time, Lando managed to take his place.

Alessandro did his best to keep his emotions in check. He never revealed how much it bothered him when Lando finished ahead of him.

That night during dinner, he and Lando kept a distance from each other. Neither of them made a move to talk to each other. That was how it always went.

Every weekend was the same cycle of normalcy before things turned sour after the weekend. But Lando never complained, and Alessandro never said a word about it. Business went on as usual.

But I knew just the thing Alessandro needed to get himself back into the cutthroat mindset that came with racing.

A little sucker punch to the ego never hurt.

I wiped my forehead with a towel, trying to rid my skin of the sticky feeling. It was hot in Baku this weekend.

After Monaco's horrendous street circuit conundrum, I wasn't ready for another street race.

Despite this, I found myself coming back from a 3.7 mile walk around the track. It was late evening and the lights in the paddock were slowly starting to turn on. The sounds of wheel guns and drills died down as everyone began packing up for the evening.

"Mate, I swear that was the longest track walk ever," Lando complained as I walked to the back of the garage.

"It was not! It's the same as any other one!"

"Yeah, yeah. Kota stopped by, she told me to give this to you."

I frowned, narrowing my eyes in suspicion at the envelope.

"What is it?"

"If I had known you wanted me to open I would've," Lando said, eargly reaching for the envelope.

I moved away from him, wanting to open it myself.

A part of me was excited - a gift from Dakota was quite odd. Especially considering we hadn't talked much since that night in Monaco 3 weeks ago. Only the random waves and "how are you's" every now and then.

"Go on, open it," Lando urged.

I knew he would never let me open it in private without telling him, so I didn't bother finding privacy.

I pulled out a small piece of cardstock with colorful letters on the front.

"Get better soon card?" Lando read aloud, a confused look on his face.

"What the fuck is this for? I'm not sick."

"Beats me, what's it say on the inside?"

Greetings Asshole,

I hope you've had a lovely 3 weeks off. Just so you know, Baku is my favorite track on the calendar. Show it some love for me, yeah? Good luck, we're back in Baku baby!

P.S. its a get better soon card, take a hint for once and get better at racing 😊

Much love,

Dakota

Lando let out the biggest howl of laughter, slapping my back harshly.

"Will! Get a load of this! Alessandro just had his ass handed to him!"

Everyone turned to look at me in curiosity as my ears turned red.

"Fuck you Lando," I huffed, trying to hide the card.

Too late because the little rascal had snatched it from my hands and was now parading around the garage showing it to anyone who had eyes.

Andreas even got his glasses from the table so he could read the lovely note Ms. Sanchez had written for me.

My jaw ticked with anger, she had some nerve trying to rile me up.

I wouldn't let her have the satisfaction of knowing the stupid card had struck a nerve.

She knew my pride was wounded. And she just had to fucking rub it in.

I struck the match, but she flamed the fire.

Two can play that game.

I made my way out of the garage, people moving aside quickly at the expression on my face.

The sun having set, the floodlights had turned on to a blinding level of brightness.

"Hey Ales-"

"In a minute, I have something to take care of," I brushed off Ted Kravitz, the reporter who usually conducted on the spot interviews for his Ted's Notebook videos.

I felt bad, but at the same time, didn't give a fuck.

"What the fuck is this?" I asked, as soon as I spotted her long hair standing out amongst the men.

"Hm, nice of you to pay me a visit, Moreno," she spoke, a sly look on her face.

"Didn't have the guts to say it to my face, huh?" I asked, taking a step towards her.

"What's that? Oh, is Alessandro Moreno, perhaps, offended?" she mocked, placing a hand on her chest.

I let out a deep breath, pinching the bridge of my nose.

She was driving me insane.

"Fuck you," I spat, giving her the harshest glare I could manage.

Dakota smirked, her dark eyes shining with mischief.

"For that, you'll have to get in line."

With that, she spun on her heels and disappeared into the restricted area of the garage.

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

Baku was a ridiculous track. No wonder Dakota loved it. It was just as crazy as she was.

I had never driven the layout before, only on the simulator. The car's gearbox was damaged, meaning I couldn't drive in Free Practice 1 or 2. It set me up with a big disadvantage going into quali. My race was also compromised due to the 5 place grid penalty for the gearbox change.

I would start 5 places down from where I qualified.

I glared daggers at the lap times I'd set the day before. Ten minutes remained until Qualifying and I had to clear my thoughts before I got in the car.

It would be my first time actually driving on the track. A part of me knew I didn't actually hate the track. I was still sulking over my loss in Monaco.

Both were street tracks and my mind was set on the idea that they meant bad luck.

But because I was so goddamn stubborn, I had to go out there and give it 200%. Not for myself, but to prove Dakota wrong.

She had become like the little air bubble that gets trapped under your screen protector. One that keeps getting bigger and bigger until you can't ignore it.

I knew nothing about her, yet everything about her intrigued me. She was mysterious, clever, and had a spitfire personality.

Dakota and Max got along well for that very reason.

Scratch that - she got along well with everyone. Except me.

And I had no problem with that. No problem at all. In fact, I'd like to keep it that way.

My engineer, Dave, frowned in a disapproving manner. He knew I was distracted, but I couldn't be bothered to focus just to please him.

"Alessandro, what's going on with you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Is this about the last race? There was something wro-"

"Wrong with the car. I'm aware," I grit out, not in the mood to hear the same thing over and over again.

Dave and I, we didn't get along.

From the start, he treated me like a child. Repeating the same things over and over again, as if I couldn't understand.

He was nothing like Will, Lando's engineer, who was supposed to be mine. When Lando's former engineer left, Will took his place and Dave was hired as a new employee.

We didn't get along. It was a strictly business setting between us. He told me what I needed to do, and I had to listen.

I had been pushing it aside every race up until now. In Monaco, I knew there was something wrong with the car. I could feel it.

But the data systems never showed any problems. I had checked it myself.

Something was amiss, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Instead of tryin got find the problem, I was biding my time. Waiting for it to reveal itself.

What was interesting was that Dakota herself had picked up on it. That evening on the harbor, she had questioned my relationship with Dave.

I was caught off guard, but unsurprised. She was always observing everything silently. Her eyes were alert, constantly tracking tiny details.

God, stop thinking about her.

I shook my head, pulling my gloves on as I settled into the seat.

As I pulled into the pit lane, I spotted Dakota in the same spot she usually was. Right by the exit, leaning against the safety car.

She spotted me looking her way as I drove past. Unable to see past my visor, she simply gave me a slight nod before I was off onto the track.

Wind was the biggest issue on this circuit. The tall buildings created a tunnel for all the air to come through, creating updrafts. This unsettled the balance of the cars, making it harder to drive.

Slipstreams - using the car in front to create a gap in the air - would be handy on the long start-finish straight. The speed advantage made overtaking on this track was a lot easier than Monaco.

The issue that came with that was not only did I have to qualify in a good position, but I had to keep it during the race as well.

E> "Radio check."

A> "Check."

E> "Be careful at turns 15, 16. Lots of crashes there during practice."

A> "Copy."

E> "You also have the 5 place penalty. Keep that in mind, you know what to do.

A> "Didn't need that reminder but thanks anyway."

I knew I shouldn't have said that over the radio that would be broadcasted to the public, but Dave was really getting on my nerves.

My focus was interrupted, thanks to his shitty input about the penalty. A bitter taste settled in my mouth as I started my outlap.

But none of that mattered now. Right now, it was pedal to the metal.

C> "Oh and look at that! Lance Stroll has gone into the wall at turn 15!"

P> "Yeah, he should've bailed on that one. Crashed out on the first lap."

I could see Lance's car in the distance, his poor tire hanging on for dear life.

There was a few other red flags as others crashed out as well. I came into the pits for new tires, catching sight of the green safety car on the large TV screens.

Dakota must be having fun. No, stop thinking about her. You have a car to drive.

I groaned to myself, blocking her out of my mind as I went out for Q3.

Just as I finished my flying lap, Dave's voice crackled through my earpiece.

E> "Red Flag. Red Flag. Turn 15."

A> "Again?"

E>"Sainz and Tsunoda crashed."

A> "So that's it?"

E> "Err, looks like it. Yes, that's the chequered flag. Leclerc on Pole."

A> "I don't care, what position am I in?"

E> "P3."

A> "What?"

E> "Verstappen had traffic on his lap and got caught out by the red flag. Hamilton P2."

A sigh of relief escaped my lips.

The one time I managed to get into the top 3, I had a 5 place penalty. Great.

"Hey man! P3! Not bad, not bad at all," Zak congratulated as I removed my helmet.

P3 definitely is something to smile about.

"Congrats," Lando grinned, giving me a fist bump.

"Shame you're starting P8," he added, making me roll my eyes.

"What, did you think I'd just let you bask in all your glory? If it wasn't me who said it, Dakota definitely would."

Of course she would.