Drifting Light Race Predictions
So a reader pointed out my race predictions in Drifting Light...
He was still flushed from everything: the race, the podium, the impossible weight of finally, finally winning Monaco. Hair still damp from the shower back at the paddock. Carlos looked more collected—clean-shaven, collarbone peeking from the top of his zipped hoodie—but his smile hadn’t fully dropped since the chequered flag.
Lando tossed his jacket across the arm of the sofa, spinning once in the middle of the room like a kid. “That was mental,” he said, breathless. “Did you see the start? I nearly lost it into Turn One.”
“You didn’t,” Carlos said, stepping in close, letting his hand slide along the waistband of Lando’s joggers. “You didn’t put a wheel wrong.”
Lando caught him by the front of the hoodie. “I was unreal.”
Carlos’ face lit up, eyes warm. “You were,” he said, voice low but full of it—pride, affection, something close to awe. “You were absolutely brilliant.”
Back at McLaren, Lando was still in his team kit, the zip halfway down and his fireproofs sticking uncomfortably to his skin. The Barcelona heat hadn’t let up, even as the sun dropped. His curls clung damp to his temples, and the back of his neck felt clammy under the collar. He sat at the edge of the driver room sofa with a water bottle clutched in one hand, cooling slowly against his palm. His second-place trophy sat in front of him on the table, smaller than it had looked under the podium lights. He hadn’t really looked at it until now. Oscar had come and gone. Zak had patted him on the back. The engineers had all been full of smiles and praise, telling him how close he’d come. Another podium. Another near miss. Another day he wished he could share differently.
Carlos had finished P13. Lando had watched the replay. The Williams had looked brutal—unresponsive through the corners, twitchy on exit. He knew that look on Carlos’ face. Knew how hard it would be for him to smile after a result like that. Knew how it would tighten Carlos’ chest, even if he didn’t say it aloud. He unlocked his phone and typed quickly: Unlucky today. I love you. It wasn’t planned. Just something that felt true. He stared at the message a second longer than he meant to, then hit send. He didn’t expect much. Just maybe something back. A same. A thanks. Even just a like. Anything that would say: we’re still us.
I was off by 1 position for Carlos but how close is this?
Also, I may have written like 25 different race predictions in all the fics I've written in the last few months 😂
