"Welcome to Austria for the Styrian Grand Prix of 2021! We start off this double header at the RedBull Ring with a great qualifying session. The RedBulls have been incredibly strong all weekend with Max Verstappen on Pole followed by the two Mercedes. The biggest surprise of the session is Lando Norris starting P4, but his teammate Alessandro Moreno failing to get into Q3."

"That's a shame," Mark remarked as we walked through the paddock, listening to the announcers on the loudspeakers.

I hummed in agreement as we neared the stewards room for our pre-race briefing.

Alessandro and I hadn't spoken since that evening in Baku. His hotel room had been across from mine the entire weekend, yet I had only seen him come out of it the evening of his flight.

"Hey, your room is right across from Alessandro's," Lando pointed out.

My eyes flew over to the door across the hall. I was thankful it was our last day in the country before we flew off for a two week break.

I waved goodbye to Lando, trying to find my keycard in the many pockets of my jacket.

A click sounded behind me, making me turn around quickly.

Alessandro stepped out of his room, dragging a black suitcase out behind him. He was dressed in a black and orange team hoodie and black sweats, the hood covering his face. He looked up and we made eye contact for a split second. My heart skipped a beat at the defeated look in his eyes.

Placing his sunglasses on his face, he walked past me without saying a word.

It was weird. We didn't speak often, heck we didn't even have each others numbers. But a part of me was itching for some interaction.

I had only seen a few glimpses of him this weekend. I knew he landed in France on Thursday and now it was Saturday evening. Lando on the other hand, I had seen him constantly throughout the past few days.

I was trying so hard to convince myself that I didn't like him, but it was so goddamn hard when he was on my mind 24/7.

I couldn't help but feel for him when I saw him get out of his car after failing to qualify in the top 10. His shoulders dropped, his stance was tense. He seemed dejected and frustrated.

What's going on with him?

"Dakota what are you doing?" Mark asked as I scanned the room.

The stewards room was empty, a rare occurrence. I was looking for something and this was my chance.

"Dakota, stop. You're going to get us in trouble," Mark panicked as tried to open the drawers.

They were locked. Fuck.

"Shut up, I know what I'm doing."

"Oh my God, I'm leaving," he threatened.

"Sure, close the door on your way out," I muttered, rushing to skim over the files.

I knew he wouldn't leave me alone in here.

"Where the fuck is the key?" I huffed, lifting several papers.

"Here," Mark handed me a silver key from the cup of pens on the desk.

I held my breath, hoping it would fit the key slot.

Sure enough, the lock clicked open and the drawer opened with ease.

A- Alfa Romeo - Bahrain Report 28/03

A - Alpin-

Nope. Don't need the A's.

"Where the hell are the M files?" I muttered, opening another drawer.

At the top there was a half peeled sticker that read Files H-O.

McLaren... Mercedes...

Wait, Mclaren.

My eyes flew back to the top of the M section and I ran my fingers down the row of papers.

Bahrain...Imola....Monaco.

I pulled out the yellow file labeled Monaco.

71 of 78

Cause of incidentunknown

- Steering twitches out of turns 15 and 16

- Oversteer snap out of turn 17 leading to impact with barriers

- 16G force impact

- 78% of energy absorbed by barriers

- no injuries sustained

- radio channels active before incident

- driver of car 15 provided vocal feedback regarding behavior of vehicle

- no mode or engine changes were ordered by engineer of car 15

- apparent miscommunication between strategist and lead engineer

- no action taken

"Someone's coming," Mark warned. I heard him searching for something in his pockets and suddenly his hand appeared in front of the file.

He quickly snapped a photo of the page, moving to shut the file.

"Wait! Take a picture of the Baku report too," I whispered.

"No time, he's already at the door," Mark hissed, forcing it closed as we heard muffled voices through the wall.

I quickly pulled out the paper, grabbing his phone and snapping a photo. I quickly shut the file and shoved it back into its place.

The door clicked open as the two of us were still kneeling on the floor beside the file cabinet.

"Good eveni- oh," Michael Masi, the race director, stopped when he noticed us not in our seats.

"Sorry, I lost my earring for a moment," I chuckled sheepishly, scratching the back of my neck. I pretended to reach up and fix the dainty piece of golden jewelry.

"Oh, I was wondering why both of you were on the floor," the Australian laughed, taking a seat in his chair. Soon the room slowly started to fill up.

"Sorry we got here a bit late. Let's get this started, shall we?" he asked.

"Yup," I nodded, settling into my seat. My heart was thudding in my chest, sweat trickling down the back of my neck. My palms were so sweaty, I had to wipe them on my jeans.

Mark and I shared a look before focusing on the briefing.

That was a close call.

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

"This doesn't make any sense," Mark groaned in frustration, rereading the paper on his phone.

He had sent me both photos as well and we were now scrutinizing the reports on our phones.

Nothing made sense.

If there had been something wrong with Alessandro's car in Monaco, how come he crashed right at the end of the race?

What made things even more confusing was that the puncture in Baku had shown up on the data screens.

His engineer just never said anything about it.

"How come his strategist didn't notice it either?"

"I dunno, maybe he did? We won't know until we hear the team radio from the race."

"How do you suppose we do that?" Mark raised a brow, leaning back in his seat as he drank a sip of beer.

I didn't reply, gnawing on my bottom lip as I tried to come up with an answer.

Good question Mark, very good question.

"Dakota!" a voice called, making me whirl around.

George was waving at me from across the dining pavilion.

"What do you want, Russel?" I called.

"Wanna grab a drink with us?" he shouted back.

"Who's us?" I shouted back.

"Bro, go over there and talk to him. My ear drums are going to burst," Mark muttered.

"Sorry," I said, giving him an unapologetic smile.

I grabbed my phone and windbreaker before jogging over to the Mercedes hospitality.

"Us as in Lando, Carlos, Alex and his girlfriend and Carmen," George said as I came closer.

"Oh, sounds good. You guys have a race tomorrow though."

'We're just having a few drinks Sanchez, not getting hammered," he rolled his eyes.

"Okay, just reminding you. No need to get all defensive," I chuckled, tightening my hold on my jacket.

Lando, who had been on his phone, suddenly spoke up.

"Mind if I ask Alessandro to come? I think he needs some fresh air," he said, his eyes darting between George and I.

"Sure," George replied immediately. Lando's eyes fell on me and my mind went blank.

"Oh, uh, sure. Why not?"

"Cool. I'll go get him," he said, scampering off to the McLaren hospitality.

I walked with George towards the parking lot where we met with Alex and his girlfriend, Lily, as well as Carlos.

"Nice to meet you," Alex joked, as if we hadn't been friends for two years now. I had met him when he first signed with RedBull at a convention in London.

"I'm Dakota, what's your name?"

"Alex, Alex almighty Albon," he said, making Lily slap his arm.

"He's so full of himself," she teased.

"Alex, that's such a basic name," I said, pretending to gag.

"Aren't you named after a state?" Lily interrupted, making the boys burst into laughter.

"Damn, harsh," I muttered, the smile on my face growing.

"Hey, nobody messes with my man," Lily huffed, flipping her hair.

"Where's Lando?" Alex asked, glancing around.

"He wen't to get Sandro. You don't mind if he joins us, right?"

"Of course not. Man, have you seen what people are saying on twitter?" Alex said quietly, making me confused.

"Yeah, it's so unfair. I feel really bad for him. I bet it's messing with his head," George nodded.

"Sorry, what's this about?" I interrupted.

"Have you been on twitter recently?" Carlos asked, making me frown.

"No? I haven't had time to check social media today. Why?"

"It's a complete shit show. Everyones saying McLaren made a mistake signing Alessandro instead of Ricciardo. They're talking crap about him."

Oh shit.

I pulled out my phone, opening the twitter app.

F1 twitter was a bizarre place to be whenever something controversial happened. Suddenly, everyone becomes a sports journalist and knows anything and everything about how to be an F1 driver.

how did Moreno even get a seat in F1? He's a coward and cancer to McLaren and F1

bro chill, it's only his first year. plus his team makes shit strategy calls

they might as well have signed Grosjean this year. He would've crashed less than Moreno.

the last time Moreno was successful was in 2019 when he won the championship in F2. That was the final win for the rest of his life.

theory: someone in F1 wanted to sabotage McLaren so they convinced them to sign Moreno so he can keep crashing and not score any points

sounds about right, it's all part of el plan

"Sorry to keep you guys waiting," Lando said as the two McLaren drivers approached.

My eyes immediately looked towards Alessandro before quickly looking away before he noticed.

So many questions whirled through my mind.

Had he seen the tweets? How was he taking it? Did he feel bad? Was he hurt by them?

"It's okay, Carmen isn't here yet either," George said.

"Alessandro is your car here?" Alex asked after they'd greeted each other.

"Yeah, it's on that side," he said, nodding towards the other end.

Goosebumps appeared on my skin at the sound of his low, deep voice. I hadn't heard his voice for over a week.

"Hey guys. Sorry, I couldn't find my phone, but turns out it was in my jacket pocket," a dark haired woman approached us.

George grinned, taking her hand in his as they stood side by side.

cute.

"Carmen, this is Dakota. Dakota, this is my girlfriend Carmen."

"Nice to meet you," I smiled, shaking her hand.

"I love your hair," she complimented, her brown eyes bright with excitement.

I blushed, unconsciously running a hand through it.

I had extra time this morning before I had to be at the track so I curled my hair.

"Thanks," I mumbled, giving her a shy smile.

"Okay everyone has a ride right? Dakota, are you going with Alé?" Lando asked.

My eyes flickered over to him, only to find he was already looking at me.

I swallowed quickly, my throat suddenly dry.

"No, I can drive myself thank you very much," I replied sassily.

"Right, don't crash on your way out of the parking lot," Carlos said as everyone separated to find their cars.

The bar was only a quick 10 minute drive from the track.

We were all sat at a round table, waiting for our drinks to come. There was a dart board for us to use in the dimly lit bar.

Drinks, bad lighting, and darts. Great combination if you ask me.

"Thank God George called me when he did. Charlotte, my PR, was lecturing me told about learning to read the room better," Lando muttered, "Whatever that means."

"What did you say to that?" Alex laughed, knowing Lando was pretty oblivious most of the time.

"So I told her I was dyslexic," he shrugged.

We burst into laughter making Lando glare at us.

"What? I'm not wrong, am I? How the hell do I "read the room" when I'm fucking dys-dys- fuck I can't even say it properly," he huffed, making us laugh even harder.

"Oh gosh, poor Lando," Carlos sighed, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

Even Alessandro managed to crack a smile as he sat in between Lando and George.

He was dressed in a white linen button down and dark wash jeans. The top two buttons were unopened, giving just a glimpse of his tanned chest. His chestnut hair was styled, a few strands curled while the rest blended into the dark locks.

He laughed at something Carlos had said, snapping me from my daze.

I smiled, not knowing what the joke was.

"You guys give me too much shit," Lando huffed, putting his water on the table.

"You know who gives each other even more shit?" George asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"Who?" Lily questioned, her ears perking up eager to know.

"Alessandro and Dakota. They're always going at it," he rolled his eyes.

"You make it sound like we're raw-dogging it in the middle of the paddock," Alessandro rolled his eyes, taking a big gulp of his beer.

My mouth fell open as I stared at him in surprise.

I barely registered everyone laughing, Lando coughing as he nearly choked on his water.

Alessandro's green eyes connected with mine over the rim of his glass as he took a sip.

"Sometimes it's better to keep your mouth shut and give the impression that you're stupid than open it and remove all doubt," I rolled my eyes.

George let out a whistle, sharing a look with Carlos.

"See this is what I'm talking about," the Spaniard said, glancing between us.

"Your ass must be pretty jealous of all the shit that comes out of your mouth," Alessandro drawled, not bothering to look at me as he fiddled with the darts on the table.

"You better have a massive dick to back up that attitude or else the chicks will be pretty disappointed," I shot back.

"You act like guys jerk off to you at night. I'm sure you'd like that, wouldn't you? Too bad that's as far from the truth as you can get," he fired back, his eyes trailing over my body. A slight shiver ran through my spine, but I opened my mouth to respond.

"Alright! How bout we play a game of darts!" George interrupted, standing up suddenly.

"Aww, I was enjoying that," Lando pouted. Carlos slapped the back of his head, making him scowl.

And that marked the start the most intense game of darts ever played.

Which I won by the way.