Screw consciousness, that's what I say

“What happened?” Mick asked, knowing right away that something was wrong. He recognized the strained look on your face and when you glanced up from your phone, his heart shattered at the sound of your timid inhale. 

As you started to explain the chaos that you woke up to, Mick began to get dressed. When you started going off for what seemed like the five hundredth about why your brothers were such assholes, he gave you his undivided attention as if this was the first time you were complaining about them. 

Mick always knew what to do and say. He knew that you preferred to be heard than to be given advice. He knew that when you were angry, especially at one of your brothers, the best thing that he could do was show you that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

He let you pace back and forth in the hotel room as you started transferring your fears into spoken word, which was something that Mick had actually encouraged you to do months ago. He said that voicing your thoughts helped you realise how irrational they were, and you had to admit, he had a point.

But this time was different. You knew it. Mick knew it. Your worries were valid.

Mick suggested that the two of you head to the next race location earlier than everyone else. Not only could you take a few days to relax before needing to see Charles in the paddock, but it was also Monaco, your home. Your apartment was there, your friends were there, you’d feel more at ease in the comfort of your bed than you would in another hotel room.

So you packed up your bags and Mick called the front desk to have his car brought around front. The drive was a few hours, but maybe that was for the best. Five hours in a car with Mick seemed ideal, especially when you thought about turning your phone on airplane mode to silence out the rest of the world. 

Mick grabbed both your luggage and his, rolling them behind him as you made your way to the elevator. When you stepped inside, you briefly checked in the mirror to make sure you didn’t look like a complete disaster, but before you could reach for concealer or mascara, Mick leaned down and kissed your cheek, not needing to say anything. That simple gesture alone meant that he would always think you looked beautiful.

The ride down to the main floor was tedious itself, but when the elevator doors finally opened, time froze.

Standing there, waiting to enter to presumably go up to his own room, was Charles. The dark bags under his eyes and the energy drink clenched in his hand gave away just how much last night had affected him. But regardless of how exhausted he looked, there wasn’t a single ounce of remorse on his face.

Nothing that indicated he felt even a little sorry for that comment. 

He just stared at you, lips slightly parted as if he was going to say something but there was nothing for him to say. His eyes darted towards Mick who had tensed up the second he spotted your brother, but Mick didn’t say anything either.

There was a lot he probably wanted to say but this wasn’t Mick’s place to intervene, not yet at least.

The elevator doors tried to close because of the lack of movement in the cart but you were quick to slam the palm of your hand against it to activate the sensor, keeping the doors open. Charles flinched, as if thinking you were about to hit him. You should have. 

“Nothing?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. “You have absolutely nothing to say?” 

“Oh now you want me to say something?” Charles raised his voice, not bothered by the handful of people in the lobby that were within earshot. “I tried calling you earlier and you didn’t answer!”

“I had just woken up!” You yelled back and Mick raised his hand to your back, a gentle reminder that now was not the time nor place to start a screaming match with your brother. 

You glanced up at Mick who’s glare was still firmly locked on Charles and you shook your head helplessly, looking back at the person who was supposed to be there for you, supposed to support you and be happy for you. He was family for christ sakes.

Your phone chimed again, another notification that would certainly cause your blood to boil should you choose to open it.

“Media’s going insane with this. C'est ton problème. À toi de le réparer.” This is your mess, it’s up to you to fix it. You jabbed your finger against his chest and Charles backed up, not saying another word as he stepped out of the way for you and Mick to exit the elevator.

Mick grabbed the two suitcases and led the way towards the front door. You made sure to keep your head down. Even though this hotel was rooming mostly drivers and people from various teams, the last thing you needed was to be bombarded with questionable stares. 

When you finally got into the car, Mick reached across the middle console to rest his hand on your thigh. You knew it would stay there for most, if not all of the ride. When he offered for you to pick the playlist, nothing came to mind.

Feeling defeated and helpless in this situation, Mick put on a playlist the two of you had created together and gave your leg a firm squeeze. When you glanced in his direction, Mick leaned forward to crash his mouth against yours.

You hated PDA and you knew that his windows weren’t well tinted, but at the moment you didn’t care who outside the car saw you kissing your boyfriend. If anything, this was a giant fuck you to your brother. His immature comment and lack of brain cells wasn’t going to stop you from being with the man you loved.

You just hoped this would all blow over soon.

“A fucking Instagram story apology?” You screamed at Charles through the phone about a minute after you stepped into your apartment, switching between cursing him out in French and English. Mick picked up on a few words here and there but he kept raising his eyebrows when he had no idea what it was you were saying.

“What else do you want me to do?” Charles yelled back, his voice was muffled and there was a lot of noise in the back. Wherever he was, it meant he wasn’t giving this situation the attention it deserved. 

“I want you to not lie on social media and put some fucking effort into getting along with Mick!”

You made the mistake of trying to unpack while on the phone with your brother because every few seconds, whatever you had in your hands would just get crumpled between your fist or you’d throw it out of anger. 

Mick stepped towards you, taking your hand in his to unclench your fingers to release the shirt you were currently digging your nails into. He gave you a look that basically said stop trying to multitask, you suck at it.

“Give me one good reason why you don’t approve of me dating him,” You ordered and Charles went silent on the phone. You waited about twenty seconds before you scoffed into the receiver, “Tu ne peux pas." You can’t.

Finally, Charles blurted out, “He’s older than you.”

“By two years.”

“He doesn’t have a career.”

“Maybe he’s not currently driving but that doesn't mean he’s done for good,” you retorted, standing up for your boyfriend. 

“He can’t support you.”

“I can support myself.”

You heard Charles sigh loudly, “You shouldn’t be dating a driver, Y/N, okay?”

“Just because you were a shitty boyfriend to your ex-girlfriends doesn’t mean Mick is going to treat me poorly too.” 

Mick’s eyes went wide at that comment. It wasn’t like you to bring up his past and you both knew how delicate of a topic his relationships were. No one in the family talked about what happened, Charles kept it to himself. But between you and your other brothers, you sort of put two and two together that whatever happened was his fault. 

Mick reached for your hand as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you to stand between his legs. He ran his fingers over the back of your legs, the light touch making you shiver, but he knew you needed this type of comfort right now. 

You draped your arm over his shoulder, lazily sliding your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck as you waited for Charles’ response, but all you could hear was quiet breaths and voices in the background. 

“Charles, I don’t know what happened in your relationships,” you started off hesitantly, “but whatever fear you have, whatever you did…Mick isn’t the same guy. He’s not you, he’s-”

“Better,” Charles said under his breath and you actually chuckled. Mick heard it too and smiled.

“I mean, yeah,” you agreed and Mick tried to hide his laughter by reaching for your hand, kissing the back of it. “And I get it, you want to protect me but this isn’t how you go about it. You’ve just been cruel and closed off and you haven’t even tried to see Mick for the guy he is. Do you even know how happy he makes me?”

Charles went silent again. That could have meant two things. Either he truly disassociated himself from your relationship and had absolutely no idea the smile Mick brought to your face, the joy he brought into your life. Or Charles saw everything and he could see how much Mick meant to you, even if he tried to ignore it. 

You looked directly at Mick, resting your palm against the side of his cheek, “I love him.”

Mick’s blue eyes quite literally sparkled. He mouthed the words back to you. ‘I love you.’ 

The next thing you heard was the dial tone.

Mick heard Charles’ hang up and he took the phone from your hands before you could throw it or break it or crush it between your fingers, which he was confident you could do. He tossed it onto the bed behind him and pulled you onto his lap.

“I don’t get it,” you whispered, eyes starting to gloss over. “I don’t want to keep having this conversation with him. I want him to be happy for me, for us.”

“I know,” Mick nodded, the worry lines in his forehead coming back as his eyes darted all over face, thinking of the ways he could try to make things better. 

“And I don’t need his approval but-”

“But you want it,” Mick could read your thoughts, he knew you so well. “He’s your brother, it makes sense.”

“I don’t even want to go to the race this weekend if he’s going to be acting like this.”

“You don’t need to,” he backed up that idea without any hesitation. “Why support him when he can’t do the same for you?”

But that felt wrong. You had a huge heart, you loved Charles and you wanted to see him succeed and especially in Monaco of all places. Not being there for this race just seemed so horrible. 

And people would definitely speculate if you weren’t there to cheer your own brother on. 

“I have to,” you eventually said. 

“You have a few days to decide.”

Mick titled his chin upwards to press a kiss to your cheek. Obviously it made you smile and that smile only grew when he continued to pepper quick kisses all over your face. Your hold around his shoulders tightened and you pushed him backwards so he landed face up on the mattress with you still on top of him.

“I love you,” he told you, his gaze dropping from your eyes to land on your lips for just a second before looking up again. “I will always love you, Y/N. Nothing is going to get in the way of that, I promise.”

“Not even stupid brothers?” You asked and Mick chuckled, shaking his head.

“Not even stupid brothers.”

You dropped your forehead to rest against his, letting your hair fall around his face. Mick slipped his fingers under the hem of your shirt and the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin sent a chill down your spine in the most comforting way. Your nose nudged against his and just like every other time before this, when he kissed you, your entire body felt like it was on fire. 

Mick had the ability to light a match within you from just a simple touch. You were electrified when you were with him and you couldn’t get enough. 

He pushed your shirt further up as your kiss deepened. His tongue traced your lips, just enough to leave you breathless and Mick took that opportunity to slide his tongue against yours. You could practically taste the coffee he was drinking in the car and you loved it. 

You sat up suddenly, giving yourself a few seconds to pull your shirt off because it was bound to come off anyway. You tossed it behind you and Mick pushed himself up as well, attaching his lips to your throat. Your head rolled back when his teeth grazed over your skin and you knew that if you didn’t stop him, he would leave a mark. 

But you just tugged your fingers through his hair, your faint moan encouraging him to keep going. You didn’t care what people would think if your makeup failed to cover it. Let them know how much you love Mick. You wanted people to know that you were his and that wasn’t going to change.

Mick trailed his lips upwards, his kisses were soft in comparison to the merciless sucking on your neck a few seconds prior and the contrast was driving you insane. 

He was the sweetest, most caring guy you had ever met. With kind eyes and a heart bigger than anyone deserved, Mick was truly the most lovable person on this planet.

But good god there was another side to him. A side you only ever saw when it was just the two of you alone and you craved it. He had the ability to flip a literal switch and take complete control over you. Mick would have you begging in seconds, he knew exactly how to please you and how to leave you wanting more. 

Which is why you were more than irritated when his phone started ringing in his pocket. You could feel the vibration against your leg and you pleaded for him to just let it go to voicemail. 

Mick laughed against your skin, pressing a kiss to the spot right below your ear, “You know I’d love to sweetheart but-”

“-but you can’t,” you groaned, finishing the thought for him. Just because he wasn’t a full time driver didn’t mean he got out of F1 obligations. You adjusted yourself on his lap so he could pull his phone out. Charlotte’s name lit up the screen, head of PR for Mercedes. 

Mick answered the phone, still keeping his other hand on your waist. You overheard some of the conversation just from being in close proximity but when Charlotte asked if Mick could join a Zoom meeting, you rolled your eyes.

“Say no,” you whispered, wanting to get back to what you were doing. 

Mick covered the speaker with his hand, “I can’t say no. Mercedes has to do a bit of damage control before the race this weekend.” 

You groaned loudly and you were certain you heard Charlotte laugh from the other end of the call. Mick kissed your cheek before you climbed off of him, reaching for your shirt to put back on. 

“Blame your brother,” Mick told you as he grabbed his laptop from his backpack, heading into your office. He shut the door behind him and you just knew you wouldn’t see him again for at least three hours.

You reached for your phone and flopped yourself on the bed. As much as you should have been staying off social media, you couldn’t help but wonder what people were saying about this whole situation.

It was endearing, and slightly humorous, to see that some fans hated Charles’ apology as much as you did. But it was painful knowing that they too saw the distaste your brother had for Mick. 

When you opened instagram, you noticed that Charles had deleted his story post. He probably did that after you told him how horrible it was. However, it just meant that there was still a mess he had to clean up. 

You didn’t like how the conversation with him ended. He hung up so abruptly. And even though that was not the first time he’d done that, you didn’t want him to get away with it. The two of you needed to talk, you needed to put an end to this bullshit.

So you called him, only for it to go right to voicemail. 

You waited a bit and called again, same thing. 

Not wanting to get too in your head about it, you reached for the remote to turn the tv on. If Mick was going to be in meetings for the better part of the evening, you could at least catch up on some shows.

As the day went on, you kept trying to get a hold of Charles, but to no avail. Eventually you texted the one person who should have at least had an idea as to where he was.

Defeated, you tossed your phone aside. You got up out of bed and made your way down the hall. The door to your office was still shut but you pushed it open the slightest bit. When the hinges squeaked, Mick turned around in the chair and smiled at you. 

There was something so humbling about seeing your Formula 1 driver boyfriend sit at your pastel pink desk with the cheesiest grin on his face. 

“Almost done, I promise,” he told you, glancing at his watch. What you assumed would be a three hour meeting had turned into a five hour one, but at this point they were probably discussing everything for the week so Mick could spend more time with you before the race weekend.

“It’s okay, take your time,” you said, blowing him a kiss. Mick reached his hand up in the air, pretending to catch said kiss.

“I’ll order us something to eat, yeah?” he suggested, grabbing his phone. You nodded in agreement to that idea before retreating out of the office. 

There wasn’t much to do as you waited for Mick to finish up so you started tidying up. Your apartment wasn’t messy by any means but you had to distract yourself. Otherwise you’d just start thinking about what Charles is up to and why he wasn’t answering your calls and you didn't want to pull Mick away from his work to help you out of whatever self-destructed spiral you would surely fall into. 

When there was a knock on the door, you paused. Usually delivery drivers would use the intercom buzzer on the main level to gain entry into your building. You also weren’t sure how the food managed to be prepared and delivered so quickly.

“Mick!” You called out. “Did you give the delivery driver my access code?” 

There was no answer, but there was another knock at the door.

Not wanting the food to get cold, you reached for the door handle and pulled it open. 

Only, it wasn’t food.

And for the second time in less than twelve hours, your older brother’s unpredictable actions had left you feeling a little confused and terribly surprised as you came face to face with the man whose eyes bore so much resemblance to yours.

part 3 coming soon i guess bc i couldn't conclude this in 2 parts oops

---

Charles’ POV

Seeing the red flag icon on the screen of the steering wheel my heart stopped, multiple people had spun off out the track but we were yet to see a major accident.

“Box, box Charles.” Xavier said through the radio. “The race has been suspended due to a bad crash.”

The moment he mentioned there had been a crash my heart stopped, instantly I felt my stomach churn at the thought of the crash involving Vali or Pierre. “Who is it?”

The moment I was greeted by silence I knew it was Vali or Pierre. “Xav, who is it?”

“Charles, it's Vali.” Xavier said, his voice was quiet as he admitted who it was.

Turning the corner I saw the debris all over the track, I wanted to throw up. The moment I saw the state of the car I knew it was bad, Vali’s car was now missing the front and rear wing and it was currently on its roof.

I didn’t care if I got penalised there was no way I was boxing when Vali was in this state. Glancing over to my right I saw Pierre I lifted my arm in the air motioning to him that I wasn’t boxing and was going to go back around to Vali. Once I received a thumbs up we both sped off not caring about the consequences. Xavier quickly realised what I was doing. I muted the radio, I didn't need to hear him lecturing me on not boxing.

As me and Pierre arrived at the scene of the crash I never moved so fast, once I was out of the car I ripped my helmet off tossing it into the seat before sprinting over to Vali’s car. I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my cheeks, I watched helplessly as they pulled Vali out of the car. No one knew her condition and that scared the living shit out of me.

“Nugget,” Pierre breathed, rushing over to the stretcher taking her hand in his. Pierre glanced over with tears in his eyes. “Char, you coming?”

His words pulled me back into reality and I finally got my feet to move and soon enough I was by her side clutching at her hand. There was no way I was leaving her.

-

My mind was spinning, we hadn’t heard anything from the doctors regarding Vali’s condition and it was stressing me out, it hadn’t been long since I came off the phone with her parents keeping them up to date on the situation even if we didn’t have any news yet. My pride had gone out of the window right now as I dried my eyes after I broke down on the phone with her dad.

“Stupid question but how you holding up man.” Hudson said, passing me a coffee.

“I just want to see her, it’s killing me not knowing anything.” I sighed, leaning against the bland wall of the hotel. “I feel so helpless.”

“She’s a fighter.” Hudson said softly. “She will come back stronger than ever.”

He was right, everything the world threw at her she didn’t stay down for long. She was like a phoenix that always rose from the ashes. Taking a sip of the coffee I winced at the bitter taste of it. A small smile crossed my lips as I realised just how pissed off Vali will be at how shit the coffee was.

“I just wanna say thank you.” I hummed, looking over at Hudson. “For everything you did for Vali.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said quietly. “She is a great girl but I knew from the first day that her heart belonged to you. I was just the person to make her see that for herself.”

“Maybe you are right but you were there when I wasn’t, so thank you.”

He didn’t say anything else but he smiled softly at me before wandering off to give Josh and Pierre their coffees.

Running my hand over my face I let out a shaky breath as I started pacing the hallway. I tried everything to take my mind off everything but nothing was working. I wasn’t going to be able to settle until I saw she was okay.

The moment I saw the doctors wheeling Vali back into the room I had been staring at since the moment we got here, I wanted to break down.

The sight of her broke my heart, she looked so fragile in the clinical white hospital bed. Rushing over to the window I watched as the nurses transferred Vali onto the bed in the room.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her, her soft skin was scattered with cuts and a large bruise had formed around her eye. My eyes dropped down to the cast that went from the middle of her thigh down to her ankle.

“Mr Leclerc,” a nurse said softly, causing me to spin around, waving everyone else over.

“How is she doing?” I breathed, adjusting the knot of the arms of my race suit wrapped around my race.

“Miss Hendrix is a very lucky girl, we did have to sedate her due to the amount of pain she was in. She came around whilst we were examining her and let's just say that girl is strong for her size.” she said, tucking her clipboard under her arm. “She definitely had someone looking over her today. With the severity of the crash we would tend to see more injuries but she has come away from it with a broken rib, three breaks in her leg, and cuts and bruises on her face and body.”

Squeezing my eyes closed I let out a shaky breath, thanking Jules and my dad for keeping her safe. I didn’t know what I would have done if we had lost her today.

“Can we see her?” I asked.

“Of course,” she smiled softly. “She is starting to come around from the sedation, so she might seem a little out of sorts.”

None of us needed to be told twice, within seconds we were all piling into the room. Rushing over to the side of the bed I softly took her hand in mine, brushing my fingers over her knuckles.

“We are here babygirl, everything is going to be okay.” I whispered, looking up at her with tears in my eyes. It hurt to see her like this. All I wanted to do was switch places with her taking away all her pain.

Seeing her open those green eyes was an amazing feeling but that quickly fizzled out when she stared at me blankly. It was a look that scared me, it was like she was looking straight through me, like she didn’t know who I was. This was something that had crossed my mind that due to the impact of the crash that she would suffer memory loss.

“Bear,” she whimpered, reaching out for my hand.

“I’m here Babygirl.” I whispered, brushing my thumb over her skin, relief flooded my body knowing she hadn’t lost her memory. “You scared us all to fucking death out there. And the FIA will regret letting the race go ahead.”

The tears that were threatening to spill over my lash line finally fell once again, this girl was my life and if we had lost her today I honestly didn’t know what I would have done.

The hours passed but I refused to leave Vali’s side, apart from when she managed to bribe me to go to the local coffee shop she found on google, I ignored all of the calls coming from the team and just focused my attention on Vali.

Everyone had left to get out of their race gear, Pierre did come back with a change of clothes for me so I wasn’t stuck in my race suit.

Walking back in the room with a coffee from the local coffee shop my heart broke hearing the whimpers and cries coming from the bed.

“Baby,” I whispered, placing the coffees on the side before perching on the edge of the bed. “What’s all the tears about?”

“My season is over.” She cried, turning to face me. “My first season and this happens, what if I can’t come back from this.”

Letting out a shaky breath I took her hand in mine. “You will come back from this, I promise you.” I whispered. “You are the strongest person I know. I will work with you to build your strength.”

“Can you do something for me?” She whimpered.

“I’d do anything for you, Vali.” I hummed, pressing a kiss against her bruised knuckles.

“Can you stay the night? I just want to be held, I want to feel safe.” Her voice was quiet as she spoke.”

“Scoot over then bug.” I smiled softly, not missing the small smile that appeared on her face as I called her the old nickname I used to call her when we were kids.

It took her a little while to find a position that was comfy due to the cast on her leg and her broken rib but she eventually found the comfiest position with her head resting over my heart. It felt so good to have her in my arms but I hated the situation.

It didn’t take her long to drift off to sleep, letting out a heavy sigh I ran my hand over my face, my heart could finally slow down knowing that she was going to be okay. Yes the road to recovery wasn’t going to be easy, there would be a lot of physical therapy involved once her leg had healed, along with the mental strain it would take on her. There was no coming back this season and I knew how much that would be upsetting her.

Staring up at the ceiling I tried to calm my racing mind, the only sound in the room was Vali’s breathing. I let myself focus on her little snores losing track of time. I knew Vali wouldn’t want me to miss any races but I didn’t care, I needed to be there for her, I needed to show her how much I cared.

The nurse walking in the room dragged me from my thoughts, the soft smile she had on her face was comforting.

“Sorry I know visiting hours are over.” I whispered, running a hand over my face.

“Mr Leclerc, don’t worry about it.” She smiled, as she checked over Vali’s chart. “I never saw you in here.”

“Thank you.” I hummed, feeling the corners of my mouth tug into a small smile. “Quick question, when will Valentina be released?”

The nurse glanced up from the chart, “We are hoping at some point tomorrow, all her vitals are good but we just want to make sure she isn’t showing any delayed signs of concussion or any other injuries.”

I thanked her before she left the room, before I could get lost in any more thoughts my phone started ringing. Smiling when I saw Enrico’s name on my screen I answered the call instantly being greeted by Vali’s parents along with my mum.

“I feel so bad for not being there.” Enrico sighed the moment the call connected. I could see the sadness in his eyes that he wasn’t here for his little girl.

“She understands Papa.” I whispered, dropping my gaze to Vali. “She knows the reason you couldn’t be here.”

“How’s she doing?” My mum asked, causing me to look back up at my phone.

“She’s still kinda out of it from being sedated but it’s honestly going to be a long road ahead.” I sighed, knowing how hard this was going to hit her in the next couple of days. “She’s already been in tears over the fact her season is over.”

“Sono felice che tu sia con lei, figliolo. I am glad you are with her, son.” Enrico said softly.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” I smiled, pressing a kiss against the top of Vali’s head. “Not now, not ever.”

THURSDAY

“Molly!” 

The once quiet environment of Sam’s hotel suite was bombarded with laughter and shouts of joy as Molly’s parents came barreling through the door, followed quietly by Sam’s mom. Of course Molly took after her parents, which meant that if she was considered loud, her parents were even louder; no volume control was a southern thing. 

“Hi you guys,” Molly laughed, bringing her mom then her dad into a hug. 

As Molly and her mom giggled with one another and caught up, Mr. Barnes made his way over to the two drivers sitting on the couch, who had gotten to their feet at everyone’s arrival. “And Sam, look at you! Big shot Formula 1 driver!” 

“Hi Rick,” laughing, Sam smiled and gave her best friend's father a hug, “Thanks again for letting my mom tag along with you guys this weekend. It means a lot.”

The man pulled away from Sam, but still held onto her upper arms, “Of course Sam. It’s the least we could do for taking such good care of our girl,” his smile was tender, as if it were reassuring Sam she wasn’t the bother she thought she was. “Now, let me meet this Mick I’ve heard so much about,” he proclaimed loudly, interrupting whatever other conversation had been happening, as his face shifted from sincerity to mischief once he peeked around Sam to where the German was talking to everyone else. 

Mick smiled nervously from next to Molly and her mom. Loraine was trying to stifle her laughter at the way her husband’s normal, kind demeanor shifted to something hard and intimidating. 

Tentatively, Mick approached him, holding out his hand, his muscles tensed in hopes of making it a firm handshake regardless of how hard the man grabbed it. “Hello sir, I’m Mick. Molly’s-- I mean, your daughter’s boyfriend.”

Rick said nothing, just standing there menacingly with his arms folded, chest puffed, and making eye contact with Mick. The poor boy began to sweat, not sure if he was missing something. His mind began to race. Was there something on his face? Had he said the wrong thing? Was there some customary American ritual for greeting your partner’s parents that he had missed? 

Finally, Molly chimed in, “Oh dad, stop! Drop the macho act, you’re scaring him!”

With that, Rick’s smile returned. Though there was still a protective energy around him, he stuck his hand out to shake Mick’s which was still hanging between them. 

Sam laughed and turned to say hello to her mom, but before she could even say hi or give the woman she hadn’t seen since May a hug, she was met with a glare and folded arms. 

“Well hello to you too,” Sam mumbled, putting her weight back on her heels and crossing her arms to mimic her mother. 

The woman scoffed and with a huff, dropping her hands to her sides in agitation. “No call? No text? Not even an email, for Christ’s sake? I had to find out you were a Mercedes driver from your Uncle Devon! He texted me a link to the post in congratulations at five o’clock this morning!”

Sam went to correct her that she had in fact called and texted her a few times since they last saw each other; however, her mom rarely answered. In all honesty, Sam was sure that the woman's voicemail box was simply her name one after the other. Because any other time her phone rang, she jumped up to answer, declaring it couldn’t wait. But when it came to her own daughter? Voicemail. Sometimes she wouldn’t even let it ring through; she’d hit decline after a ring or two. 

Though she could comment that if her mom ever picked up the phone, maybe she’d know more about her daughter’s life, she didn’t. She was excited for the weekend and didn’t want to ruin it by starting a petty argument. 

So Sam walked over and embraced her mom in a hug regardless of the irony and annoyance being flung in her direction. “I’m sorry. To be fair, it was a really last minute decision. I haven’t even addressed the media about it yet”

After a moment, her mom hugged her tighter, whispering in her ear to keep what she said next quiet. “I’m so proud of you. Your dad would be too, though he’d be a little perturbed you weren’t at Ferrari,” she finished with a quiet laugh. 

“I know, but I’ll take what I can get,” she chuckled lightly, her head still over her mom’s shoulder. 

The two pulled apart, her mother turning to the other two faces she’d seen so often throughout Sam’s life. “Mick, Molly, you guys look wonderful. I hear all those years of Sam trying to set you two up finally worked out?”

“You could say that,” Molly casually chimed in.

“All her years of what?” Mick’s eyes went wide, his head snapping towards where Sam stood, a shamelessly guilty look on her face. 

But then, a knock sounded at the door. 

“I’ll get it,” Mr. Barnes said while Sam tried to defend her actions and Molly tried to explain why she finally gave in to her best friend’s antics. Sam was too preoccupied trying to change the subject to see who was at the door. That was until Molly’s dad’s loud voice echoed through the room:

“I know you! You’re Daniel Ricciardo! What on earth are you doing here?”

Now that… that caught her attention. 

Sam’s eyes shot up to the door in panic, Daniel taking note of the hint of fear behind her eyes. She didn’t want Danial to meet her mom, not yet at least, and not like this. In his defense, he had no idea that there would be anybody in her room with her, let alone this many people, and so many he didn’t recognize. Unexpectedly, he became self conscious. 

“Hi, uhm, I’m just here to wish Sam luck before her big day,” Daniel said as he awkwardly lifted his finger to point behind Rick and at Sam. “Her contract will be all anybody is talking about, no doubt. Thought maybe I could see the celebrity before she heads out." Absent-mindedly, Daniel was fiddling with his fingers and rocking back and forth on his heels.

She smiled sweetly. “Thanks, Daniel.”

Rick opened the door wider and gestured for him to enter, “Come on in! We’re gonna have some coffee before Sammy and Mick here have to get to the track and you’re welcome to join us! Unless of course that’s against the rules, ya know, hanging out with other teams and such.”

With a tentative nod, Daniel walked into the hotel room and made his way over to the couch where Mick and Molly now sat, with a smile on his face. 

“Daniel, these are Molly’s parents Rick and Loraine,” the trio exchanged pleasantries, and then Sam gestured to her mom next to her, “and this is my mom Eliza. Mom, this is my friend, Daniel.”

Friend. 

That word echoed through his head, tightened his throat on the way to his stomach, where it sat like it weighed a thousand pounds. It’s not like he’d heard her introduce him to anyone before, at least not since they decided to start taking things slow; everything they’d done since then, they’ve done with people they both knew. It caught him off guard. Made it real. Because sure, he knew they were friends, but it was no secret to Daniel that he felt more than that for Sam. But he was taking it slow, for her. For them. 

So he shrugged off the odd feeling of defeat and took a seat on the couch, the conversation wasting no time picking back up right where it had left off. Lorraine began telling a story about Molly and Sam as kids, her husband chiming in here and there. Daniel could tell they were all close; there was never a lull in conversation or a moment where somebody wasn’t laughing. It made him smile. 

Sam began handing out coffees, and passed off one of the many cups in her hands to Daniel. Not expecting to get one due to his unprecedented arrival, he looked at the side of the cup to see what he was hopefully going to be drinking, looking to avoid an accidental Silverstone incident again. To his bewilderment, his usual order was printed in messy handwriting. He glanced up to Sam, who he knew had gone out early to grab the coffee this morning. 

“I grabbed your usual. I was gonna stop by your room at some point before we left since I have to be there early today for a debrief, but this has been a nice surprise,” she whispered, handing the last coffee to Mick who was sitting next to Daniel on the couch, before she took her own seat on a barstool with her mom on one side, and the Aussie below her on the other. 

For the next twenty minutes, the group chatted away. Telling old stories-- more-so filling in Daniel on all the embarrassing anecdotes of Sam’s childhood-- discussing the weekend ahead, the weekends behind them, catching up on parts of each other's life they missed, and any other possible way the conversation could have shifted. 

But eventually, Daniel knew he had to leave. He had his own team duties to attend to and knew he had more than likely overstayed his welcome, seeing as he technically wasn’t welcomed in the first place. 

“It was great to meet you guys, but I should probably head out. I’ve got to be at the track soon anyway and I don't want to keep you” Daniel said, standing to give each of the new faces in the room a handshake before heading towards the door. 

Sam stood from her stool, “Let me walk you out.”

Everyone said their goodbyes to Daniel, eliciting a smile from him as he waved once more before disappearing behind the hotel room door, with Sam following not far behind. She shut the door and turned to Daniel who stood waiting. 

“First of all, happy birthday,” he whispered, looking briskly around the hotel hallway before pulling her into a sweet hug and giving her forehead a swift kiss. 

“Thank you,” she hugged him back tightly, lingering in the moment they shared because she knew it would likely be the last time they would get to be around eachother like this all day. 

“Why didn’t you tell me your mom was coming this weekend?”

Sam stood up straight, breaking their embrace, and shrugged. “It was last minute and it’s not that important; she never stays for the actual race, says it freaks her out too much. Why didn’t you tell me you were stopping by this morning?”

Now Daniel was the one shrugging, “I wanted to see if I could catch a sneak peak at whatever you have planned for your grand entrance. It’s your home race, which also has the pleasure of being the spectacle that is Austin, Texas, please tell me you have something planned?”

A mischievous grin appeared on her face as she took a step back, pointing both of her hands in her own direction. Daniel couldn’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm. 

“Oh I have something good planned, lots of stuff actually, but you’ll have to wait and see just like everybody else.”

His glee shifted to annoyance; Daniel was pouting. Now Sam was the one chuckling as he began to make a puppy dog face, jutting out his lower lip in hopes to convince her to tell him. 

“What? Did you think you were special, Daniel? I’m not sure what gave you that idea…” she trailed off sarcastically. Daniel curled an eyebrow at her statement. 

Sam stood still, keeping up with the act of being confused and trying her best not to break as Daniel inched closer and closer to her. 

He softly grabbed onto her upper arms and looked her dead in the eye. The glint in his eye intimidated Sam, but she stood her ground of faux confusion. 

Daniel spoke quietly, leaning closer and closer to her ear as he went on, “I don’t know… I mean off the top of my head there was that time late last night, and then the second time, then the third time when I did that thing with my—“

Beet red, Sam interrupted him by messily covering his mouth with her hands. She looked behind each of them to make sure nobody had heard before she turned back to him, “Okay, okay! Point proven!”

He was still looking at her, and despite her hands covering his mouth, Sam could tell he was smiling just by the way the corners of his eyes were crinkled. 

And then, Daniel being Daniel, he sloppily licked the inside of her hand. 

She let out a yelp in disgust and tore her hand away, wiping it on her pants. She gave him a glare but couldn’t make it last long at the site of his proud, childish grin. 

With a roll of her eyes, she grabbed one of his hands and gave it a quick, affectionate squeeze, “I gotta go, I’ll see you there.”

“Can’t wait,” he squeezed her hand back and gave her a smile. 

What happened next caught both of them off guard, not only for the naturality of it, but the way they both hadn’t hesitated to do so. 

Their lips met in a quick, casual kiss, before they both went their separate ways. 

Neither of them thought anything of it, at least not until a few minutes later. Sam stopped in her tracks when she closed the hotel room door behind her, and realization hit Daniel when he was standing in the elevator. 

It had felt far too coupley for two people without a label. Of course they’d kissed before, but in the few short days they’d even been whatever they were, any lip-locking had more so happened in moments of emotion and excitement, or passion and lust. 

Never in greeting or farewell, let alone in such a nonchalant way. 

Both believed they were making a big deal out of nothing; Daniel decided he was thinking too far into it and Sam landed on the idea that she was making up issues as a defense mechanism. 

Deep down, neither of them were against it. Sam was panicked at her contentment with the gesture in the moment, seeing as it felt far too fast to be taking things slow. Daniel was conflicted that he liked the feeling, because while he would take any opportunity to kiss her, it betrayed his agreement to take things slow.

Yet the common sentiment running through their minds: 

Well shit. 

But now that Daniel was gone and it was time to head to the track, Sam changed into her cheesy outfit and cowboy boots. She wore a large robe over her outfit to make sure nobody saw it until she walked through the turnstiles of the paddock. 

And when that time came, you could say all the attention was on her. There were camera flashes from the press, a HAAS camera-man following her, her own videographer, and people trying to take their own pictures and get her autograph. To say everyone stopped to stare would have been an understatement. 

The question was, were they staring in awe? Maybe confusion? Possibly shock? Or maybe disgust?

Because, to put it nicely, Sam had managed to find the most horrendous, all-American, borderline propaganda, putridly patriotic outfit known to man: 

A dress that was nothing short of an entire American flag. One of her shoulders remained bare, which she was thankful for because of the Texas heat, while the other was cascading with the red and white stripes of the flag. Unlike her usual media days, where she normally came in her street clothes, hair a passing thought at best, and a little bit of makeup, today she was glammed to the gods. Her hair was voluminous and curled, her makeup done beautifully yet obnoxiously to match the dress, and accessories as far as the eye could see. 

So to be fair, everyone may have been staring because it was hard to miss her. 

As she made her way down the paddock and towards the HAAS hospitality at the end, that unmistakable, throaty laugh that bordered on a cackle, echoed through her ears. Sam turned in the direction of the noise, and was met with Daniel in a full black cowboy outfit, completed with a hat, boots, belt buckle, a bolo tie, and that facial hair she hated so dearly. 

But to be fair, Daniel was right: it did complete the look. 

“Oh my god,” he chuckled, walking towards her from inside the McLaren building. 

Sam lifted her chin in pride, opening her arms out wide so her dress formed the flag, giving Daniel the full experience, “Bask in the glory of the true American spirit, America’s sweetheart some might say.”

He doubled over in laughter then walked over to examine it closer, “It’s horrendous, but amazing! Perfect for the occasion but tacky! Too much, but just enough.”

“Congrats, Ricciardo. You just described America.”

He laughed again, a few photographers starting to inch closer to the duo and snap some candid pictures. 

“Oh god, what have we signed ourselves up for,” Toto grumbled sarcastically as he walked up to the two drivers. He took a moment to admire Sam’s outfit he had heard so much about in the short time since she’d been scanned into the paddock. 

“Oh this is just the beginning, Toto. It’s only Thursday!” Sam laughed, spinning in a slow circle to show off the entire outfit. . 

Once she stopped turning, her future team principal gave her a quick hug. “How’s the first day of publicity been?”

Sam shrugged, the formation of the trio bringing even more cameras. “At this point, I think everyone is just looking at me because of this dress…” she trailed off, trying to keep her tone of voice innocent and failing miserably. 

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Toto did his best to hide his smile with a glare, but at the look of pride on Sam’s face, it didn’t last long. 

Flipping her face to one of complete seriousness, she folded her arms over her chest and turned her chin up in faux protest, “We’re in the United States now, so as a citizen it is fully within my rights to plead the fifth.”

Toto let out a chuckle, but Daniel queried his eyebrow, making it obvious he wasn’t up to date on the protections Americans held under the Bill of Rights. She and the Austrian looked at eachother, then let out a laugh, Toto giving Daniel a pat on the back. “Alright, well I’ll see you later today. We left a small gift for you in your hospitality,” with a wave, he turned and went in the opposite direction of the two drivers. 

Sam defeatedly tilted her head back and rolled her eyes once their backs were turned.

“What was that eye roll all about,” Daniel asked, walking with her past his own hospitality and down to Sam’s. The two of them together were quite the sight, as if Uncle Sam himself had thrown up star-spangled soup all over them.

“I don’t like gifts,” she shook her head. 

“But it’s your birthday,” before he could even finish his sentence, Sam was glaring at Daniel. 

He held his hands up in defense, “Right, not a fan of your birthday, sorry.”

The pair made their way down the paddock, stopping for fan pictures, autographs, and some of the pop-up booths Guenther had mentioned yesterday. 

The buzz seemed to follow the two wherever they went. Cameras, professional, video and phones, were pointed in their direction nearly at all times.To put it simply: the crowd was eating this shit up. And to make it even better, Sam and Daniel were feeding off the energy of the paddock, and each other. She finally understood why Daniel loved this race weekend so much; something about it was so unhinged, so far out there, that it felt like an alternate universe, and she couldn’t find it in herself to look away from the grin that had been plastered on his face since he’d walked through the turnstiles. 

“Well I’ll let you go,” Daniel said as they came to a stop in front of the American team’s hospitality. Sam turned to look at him, the corner of her lips instinctually upturning to mimic his. 

He went to reach for her hand with his own, and started to lean in for a kiss, but Sam ever so slightly moved her head back and out of the way, the smallest ounce of panic hidden behind her eyes. 

Of course, how could he almost forget? To be fair, it isn’t his fault his mind is solely occupied by the captivatingly beautiful woman in front of him every time he’s around her… sometimes the man just forgets to use his brain. 

So with a mind-clearing shake of his head, he went in for a hug, but again, Sam took the smallest step backward, her hand twitching upward as if she was about to push him away but then caught herself. Her eyes shot to her left, checking to make sure nobody had been around to see anything. 

Okay well now Daniel just felt awkward. Overcome by the embarrassment he felt, he knew there was only one safe way to proceed.

So with his jaw firmly clenched and his lips pressed into a thin line, he raised his hand in between the two of them. 

A simple, innocent, friendly, high-five.

 “See ya later, birthday girl,” he said, lacking his previous level of conviction. 

Painfully aware of the awkwardness, Sam brought her hand up to meet his and they collided with a whack, “Catch you on the flipside, Buffalo Bill.”

She offered him a weak smile before heading toward her driver’s room, closing the door behind her, and exhaling a breath she wasn’t aware she had been holding in. 

Daniel watched her disappear behind the glass doors and disappear into a sea of people inside. He ran his hands down his facial hair in distress before they dragged down his chin and his neck. 

Yeah, that just happened. 

“Happy birthday, dear Samantha. Happy Birthday to you!”

The entire HAAS team concluded their song, and Sam tried to hide the red tinge on her cheeks with a playful roll of her eyes as she leaned forward to blow out the two big candles numbered 27. 

Despite her protests, the team had organized a small little celebration for their driver. Sam had told them multiple times over the season that she didn’t need a birthday celebration and, word for word, “better not ever see a cake in this garage.”

So of course, her team had stuck the two candles into a rack of ribs-- fitting for their location-- and had written on a place card which sat in front of the large serving tray not a cake. 

“I know I said I didn’t want a birthday celebration, but you guys never fail to surprise me. So thank you everyone. I love each of you guys and I’m so grateful that you all welcomed me with open arms this season. I’m sad to be leaving, and there’s no doubt I’ll miss each and every one of you. Let’s finish these last seven strong, and go out with a bang!”

The garage erupted with a cacophony of applause and cheering. Everyone came over to either hug Sam, wish her a happy birthday, comment on her outfit, or all of the above. Eventually, the number of people in the garage dwindled until there were only a few remaining people that weren’t working on the car. 

And that included Guenther.

Who much to Sam’s dismay was making his way over to where she and Mick stood right now. 

“Happy birthday, Samantha,” he said flatly. 

She said nothing, only stared at him with a furnace roaring behind her eyes. 

“I hope you can move past this. It’d be a shame if your last races with the team were ruined by petty attitudes.”

When Sam still stood unrelenting, not a muscle moved or an eyelash bat in his direction, Guenther took that as his cue to leave. 

Her blood was beginning to boil. How could he come up to her and act like he hadn’t drastically altered the potential course of her fresh start at a career? Sam had nothing to say to Guenther and she didn’t know when she would. As he grew smaller and smaller in her field of vision, the resentment inside of her grew more and more. She was pleased with how she’d handled it; she didn’t snap, she didn’t act like everything was alright, she didn’t let it go, and most of all she stood her ground. 

Sometimes not saying anything was the best way to get your point across. 

“What was that all about?” Mick questioned from beside her after witnessing what had gone down. 

Collecting herself, Sam turned to her teammate and acted as if she had no idea what he was talking about. It was no big deal, nothing to worry about, and did not need any more attention than a fleeting moment of questioning. 

“What do you mean?”

Mick’s eyes widened with worry, “Your face, your lack of response, his weird comment. Did something happen?”

Sam began to tidy up the table that contained the remnants of her birthday celebration, trying her best to believe her own facade of nonchalance she was putting up. Mick couldn’t find out about her strikes not resetting. Nobody could. 

She kept her breathing even, no matter how much it felt like a dagger in her sternum to lie, especially after they’d all promised to be upfront with each other again, and with a shake of her head in an attempt to brush past the topic, and reassure that it was no big deal, she responded. 

As much as it pained her, Sam did what she knew she had to do, what she’d pondered in the darkness of her hotel room for hours, what she’d lost countless hours of sleep over that night: 

She lied. 

“He just didn’t take the news of me leaving too well.”

Mick nodded and went back to helping her clean up the garage. She continued to do the same, but kept an eye on him from her peripherals. Everything seemed normal, and he didn’t seem suspicious or confused. 

He’d bought it, and at that notion she released a breath of relief. 

Even more weight was taken off her shoulders when her press liaison walked into the garage holding Sam’s helmet bag in her hand. 

“Hey Sam, we need to go and film your special helmet video before you change out of your… ensemble for press.”

“Coming,” she replied a bit too eagerly; anything to escape the guilt of what she’d just done. For now, she pushed it to the back of her mind, reminding herself that she had gone over this scenario hundreds of times in her head and this was always the best option. Better for her. Better for her friends. Better for her sanity. And with that, she went out with the intention of enjoying the rest of her weekend. 

“Welcome everyone, to group 2 of our United States Grand Prix press conferences. Here with us right now is McLaren driver Lando Norris and HAAS driver Samantha Thompson.”

The two drivers got comfortable in their seats, Sam taking one last sip of water and Lando fiddling with the cover on his microphone. When they were introduced, Lando gave the crowd in the room a closed-lip smile, while Sam opted for a toothy grin and a wave. 

“Hello you two, and a happy birthday, Sam.”

“Why thank you, Ted,” she said, her grin never faltering. 

“How are you celebrating turning--”

Sam cut him off hastily, “A woman never reveals her age, Ted. Especially not on live television.”

With a playful wag of her finger in his direction, Ted laughed, but not before Lando interrupted him. 

“Twenty-seven, wow. Feels like yesterday when we were in London celebrating your twenty-first. Please tell me at least the hangovers get better.”

Sam held back from rolling her eyes at his blatant disregard for her joke, “Can’t say they do.”

Blissfully unaware of the buried hatred the two had for the other simmering to the surface, Ted went on. “Alright. Sam, I think it’s obvious we’ve got to start with you. It’s your birthday, it was announced at midnight last night that you’ll be driving for Mercedes next season, it’s your home race, and you came into the paddock today dressed to the nines in what looked like an entire American flag.”

“Yeah, a good friend of mine said that Austin is the weekend for spectacles, so I thought it was only fitting that I went all out, seeing that I’m repping my home country and all,” she sat up straighter in her seat, a butterfly or two escaping into her stomach at the mention of said friend.

Lando, however aware of who she was referring to, threw his shoulders back into the stiff chair in inner turmoil caused by her  allusion to his teammate.  

“Wonderful. Now let’s talk about this announcement everyone’s been dying to hear about. First of all, congratulations. How does it feel?”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “It’s surreal. I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling since it went public last night. The opportunity is once in a lifetime and I’m so grateful to get to join a wonderful, historic team like Mercedes next year, and to get to drive alongside one of my closest friends on the grid is incredible.”

“How did it happen? There was so much chatter around who would get the seat, but you were quite the wildcard. I don’t think anybody really saw it coming…”

Once again, Sam brought the microphone up in front of her mouth, excited to have questions of pure curiosity that she was interested in answering. “Before he went public, Lewis sat me down and told me he was retiring. And then after I had a heart attack, he sent me back into cardiac arrest by telling me he personally wanted me to take his seat and had advocated to Toto for me to have it. One of the greatest things about Lewis is that he’s so involved with creating a habitat for change. He’s present, he’s dedicated, and he’s not afraid to speak up about matters that require attention. Whether it’s human rights, injustice, or diversity, he’s got a mission and a means to make a difference. And I’m honored that he has faith I can do the same and continue the work he’s doing from within the paddock.”

Again, Ted addressed her, “Now, it is still your rookie year. Your entrance into Formula 1 drew lots of attention, both good and bad. So what’s it like knowing you’ve received a life-changing opportunity like this before your first year of racing has even ended?”

“It’s fulfilling for sure. There were a few hiccups along the way to where I am now, that’s no secret. The team at HAAS took a chance on me, which I will never be able to repay, and I hope I can give them a solid final six races as a thank you. But I think, I hope, what I’ve accomplished so far in Formula 1 has proved everyone wrong, whether based on experience, ability, or even gender. Like yes, I’m here to drive, but I’m also here to show the public, young girls everywhere, and even the FIA  that women have the potential to do anything men can do, and sometimes we can even do it better.” 

“Haha, I love it! Now to you, Lando.”

As if  he had spent ages in that chair, he sat up and cleared his throat, plastering a smile on his lips. 

“Back at COTA. How excited are you to be here this weekend?”

“Very excited. For multiple reasons. One being back here at the circuit, two being for the food and the experience of Austin, and three being getting to experience it with everyone's favorite American driver Danny Ric as my teammate. That’s really what makes it special here,” he finished with a seemingly infectious laugh, but Sam didn’t find it funny. 

Not only because she was the only American driver and she knew Lando was trying to diminish her weekend in anyway possible, but also because she felt an odd sense of defensiveness for Daniel, as if she was protective over him; Sam knew how Lando really felt about his teammate, or at least a fair amount if she put the context clues together from over the last season. 

“And of course the fans. They’re next level here. I’m ready to capitalize this weekend and make it great.”

Ted nodded and moved on quick. Looking back, Sam was shocked she didn’t let out a chuckle from her chair a few feet over. Because the questions Ted asked next, especially in comparison to the great questions he’s asked her, was laughable, at least in her opinion. 

“Let’s talk on track. The last race in Turkey was not good for the team, especially you. Do the simulations suggest it’ll be a better weekend here, or are you crossing your fingers?”

Lando let out a nervous chuckle and scratched his head, “I don’t think I’ll have to cross my fingers, I’ll just have to drive like I always do to make up a great result in place of Turkey.”

Sam’s mind went wild:

“Drive like you always do? So… recklessly and with little care for human life? Like a toddler tattling to their mum? Or maybe simply put… shitty? Which could he possibly be referring to?”

The sound of his obnoxious voice broke her out of her thoughts, “We’ll just have to wait and see. In some areas of the track we have the potential to be good, and in other areas we’re going to struggle. Anything could happen. It’ll just be up to our skill as drivers to secure us a good finish.”

Ted nodded again, as if Lando’s responses were an afterthought, before he flipped a page in his notebook and looked back at Sam.

 “On the same note, Sam, you’ve driven the course many, many times before while you were in indycar, and you landed on a podium every time while also holding the fastest lap record in the American racing category at COTA. Does that make you any more confident for a solid performance this weekend?”

She grinned despite feeling the rage slough off of Lando in waves. In fact, she may very well have been smiling because of just that. “Absolutely. This is probably my favorite course to drive within the states and I know it like the back of my hand. Indy Cars are different from the formula category chassis, so I can’t promise any consistency across divisions, but of course, I’m gonna put everything I’ve got into the car this weekend. There are going to be some sections that are pretty tight and the lateral G’s will be pretty high, but it should be a fun drive; I’m definitely looking forward to getting in the car.”

After Sam and Lando answered a few more standard questions about the weekend, they were released from the press conference. There was no doubt that the two drivers were still not getting along, and though they each considered themselves to be masters of ‘faking it until you make it’, the tension in the room throughout the interview wasn’t lost to the media. Most significantly, the way the drivers refused to even look at one another the entire time; however, when Sam sat there quietly with a thin smile on her lips, Lando sat there with glare on his features. 

She was content, of course, knowing that her mere presence annoyed the young driver. So the last thing she expected was for him to come up beside her and start a conversation. 

“Look, Sam. I know you don’t like me—” 

Without stopping, she turned her face toward Lando. The last thing she wanted to do was put up with whatever bullshit he had in store, and that smug look on his face wasn’t doing him any favors. 

“It’s not that I don’t like you, it’s that I hate you,” she said in a sickly sweet tone, shrugging before she continued her walk back to her hospitality. 

From how distant his voice sounded, she assumed that he had stopped walking. “Well I was going to wish you a happy birthday but that’s not the attitude I—”

Something inside of her snapped at the joking tone of his voice. To him, this was all some game. But to Sam, this was her life he was messing with. 

So after a deep breath and a silent promise not to cause too much of a scene, Sam turned and grabbed his arm, tugging him back into the building they had just exited and away from prying eyes. 

“What do you really want, Lando?”

Now it was his turn to shrug. “I just wanted to ask how Molly was doing. I saw you two in the paddock this morning. Seems like you’re on speaking terms again after… a bit of a spat”

“You’re ridiculous,” she rolled her eyes, but his smirk only grew more smug. 

Her stomach twisted, and she was starting to get upset, and the tiniest of growls in her voice was making that obvious. “What’s your problem with me? You’re the one who didn’t sign the petition in 2017 to let me keep my contract. If anything, I should be the one trying to ruin your life.”

At the mention of the petition, Lando’s facade cracked; his eyes momentarily went wide and his eyebrows raised. He hadn’t realized she knew what had happened, let alone the details of what went down that night with the boys. 

He didn’t answer, and Sam wasn’t going to let him avoid the potential, real reason they’re at odds. She wanted answers and she wasn’t leaving here without them. “That’s not rhetorical, answer the question. What’s your issue with me?”

“You couldn’t even let me have a normal press conference. It was all about you,” he stated plainly. 

Sam just stood there, understanding that this had to be a joke because of how childish it was. But when Lando didn’t say anything, she realized he wasn’t joking. 

“It’s my home race, Norris. Not to mention I just signed a major contract. Of course a majority of the questions are going to be directed at me. If anything, you should be mad at the journalists; they’re the ones who ask the questions, I just answer them.”

Lando stood there staring at her, as if he was contemplating whether or not he should go on. Sam saw the moment he made his decision, his gaze hardening right before he began to speak, “I don’t want you here. You take up too much space, you always have. It’s always about you, it’s like you’re addicted to this chip on your shoulder! We get it, you’re a woman in racing. Big whoop.

“It’s the commotion you constantly create and how it takes away from the real sport being done, and I want you to know that regardless of what car you're in, or what team you represent, that’s never going to change and you’re never going to belong here. You can make subtle digs at me to the media all you want, it’s not going to change anything. Most of the fans out there are supporting me because they want me to win, and they think I can. But a majority of the fans out there that are rooting for you only support you, because they want to sleep with you. We’re not the same.”

Lando had taken a few steps towards Sam, gotten in her face a bit, and even poked her shoulder for flare. Yet Sam stood unrelenting, her arms still crossed over her chest and a neutral look on her face, as if she was relaxed by Lando’s intimidation tactics. He still stood there looking at her with that hardened look on his face, proud of what he’d said despite how hurtful he knew it to be. 

But all she did was raise an eyebrow at him before looking his small frame up and down, “Are you done with your tantrum? Or should I wait until you say something about my personal life too? What’s the lie this time? First it was Daniel “despises” me, so what’s next? Lewis only asked me to sign because he has the hots for me? Mick didn’t actually want to be my friend all those years ago and he’s been suffering in silence for thirteen years? Or maybe this has all been a dream and I’m somewhere asleep right now.”

Lando said nothing, and now it was Sam’s turn to inch closer to him. 

“Try all you want, Lame-o; you can scheme, you can lie, you can do whatever the hell you want; it’s not going to change that I’m here to stay. You’re too selfish to see the big picture so let me spell it out for you— you know, since your reading level is still stuck at children’s books.”

She mimicked his action earlier and poked his shoulder as she alluded to the insult he had thrown at Molly weeks prior, “When I race, when I get on podiums, hell even when I sat my ass in that car for the first time, it’s revolutionary, ground breaking, never been done before, headline worthy stories. But when you do it, all you’ll ever be is another statistic, lost in an ugly orange pool of aborted flying laps, poor strategy and abandoned intermediate tires,” she smirked devilishly, referencing his issues in Sochi which she knew still weighed heavily on him. 

Sam wasn’t against fighting fire with fire, in fact, sometimes she enjoyed fighting fire with gasoline, especially when it came to people who deserved to be burned. 

“And if you ever try to fuck with anybody I care about ever again, you’re going to wish that petition you didn’t sign, would’ve done it’s job and kept me out. That’s a promise.”

“One second!” Sam shouted from the couch of her hotel room. 

She’d ordered room service to her suite less than half an hour ago so she could start her birthday movie marathon tradition; this year she was set on watching the original Star Wars trilogy. 

Finally making it to the door, she said, “You guys are really quick—”

But to her surprise, it wasn’t a hotel staff member with her dinner. 

It was Molly. 

And Mick. 

And George. 

And Daniel. 

And Michael and Lance, and Alex, and Lily. 

She stood frozen in place with a look of surprise on her face. 

“Surprise!” they all shouted together. 

Sam looked at each of them and the genuine smiles on their faces. Her two best friends looked a little nervous, as if they weren’t sure Sam would invite them in. George and Lance naively held bags of takeout chinese food, Daniel was holding three big bottles of apple juice, and Lily was holding a box of cupcakes, Alex just looked happy to be included. 

At the sight of all of her friends infront of her, a smile made its way onto her lips. 

“You guys…” she trailed off sweetly begging her tear ducts to suck back in the water beginning to brew. 

But then there was a commotion behind the group, the hallway filling with the sound of quick, heavy footfalls. 

“Did we miss the entrance,” Carlos said through heavy breathing as he appeared behind Lance and Alex. 

“Well the door is open, so I’d assume so,” a voice chimed in from out of sight, which she immediately recognized as Sebastian. 

“Surprise,” the Spaniard muttered, out of breath but still trying to be enthusiastic about his friend’s birthday.

Antonio popped his head around the door frame and offered her a wave, Lewis made his way behind the group outside and gave her a smile, Nicky gave her a wave, and then to her surprise, Yuki appeared. 

“Yuki, hi…” she trailed off, trying to hide the pure shock in her voice and most likely on her face. The driver had never been one to hang around with her, Pierre making sure of it. Their last interaction among the three of them flashed through her mind. Maybe Yuki had a change of heart, and decided to ignore Pierre’s claims to stay away from her…

“George insisted we make your tradition, our tradition,” Mick smiled, clearing up the significance of their presence. 

Sam lightly shook her head and looked back at the British driver, the grin on his face insurmountable. A feeling of gratitude filled her chest, and she wondered how she’d gotten so lucky with the people in her life. And yet again, she thought back to herself at the beginning of the season, a girl who was keen on not making friends and focusing on her driving and getting her revenge. 

Oh how things have changed. 

With the smile still on her face, Sam stepped to the side and let everyone funnel into her suite, giving everyone a hug and a quiet thank you as they came by. . “Make yourself comfortable, I guess. You guys can put everything you brought in the kitchen. I ordered room service a while ago—”

Molly cut her off, “I called and canceled it right after you placed the order.”

Sam reared her head back, “What? How did you even know?”

“You’re my best friend, Sammy. I’d like to think I know you well enough.”

When Yuki came through the door, he stopped in front of Sam, fiddling with the hairs in the back of his neck. “Happy birthday, Samantha. I hope it’s okay that I came. Sebastian invited me. I know we didn’t get off on the right foot, and I’m sorry. But I think I’d like to be friends if that’s alright…”

The smile on Sam’s face couldn’t be contained, “Of course Yuki. I’m glad you’re here.” A grin erupted on the Japanese driver’s cheeks before he made his way into the room to drop whatever bag of food he had brought into the kitchen. 

Seb, Daniel and Lewis were the last to enter the room, chatting a bit between themselves. The oldest driver broke away first, giving Sam an envelope and a hug and offering her a quiet ‘happy birthday’ in her ear, before he made his way over to the kitchen to help everyone divvy out the food. Next, Lewis gave her a hug, another congratulations on today, and then headed over by Sebastian. 

That left Daniel and Sam. 

“Hi,” she said quietly with a smile. 

“Hi there, birthday girl,” he replied, a small smile forming on his lips as well. 

“How long have you guys been planning to do this,” she asked, gesturing her thumb over her shoulder at the group busying themselves behind her. 

“I didn’t know about it until I left the paddock tonight. Molly mentioned it in passing and invited me once she found out I had no idea. My invite must’ve gotten lost in the mail,” he shrugged with a smile, obviously unbothered. But the same couldn’t be said for Sam.

Her thoughts echoed with what Mick had said earlier, about this being George’s idea, and she briefly looked over her shoulder to glance at him; he was on the couch with Alex and Lily chatting, but he must’ve felt her eyes on him because at that moment he looked over at Sam, offering her a smile. Despite all the thoughts running through her head, she offered him a weak smile back, not wanting to bring his attention to the alarm bells blaring in her mind. When she turned back to Daniel, she pushed the theory she hoped was wrong into the back of her mind, telling herself she’d think about it later; she didn’t want to potentially ruin a fun night. 

“I know you said no present, but I got you a little something. It’s nothing, really,” Daniel whispered, reaching into his back pocket. 

Sam rolled her eyes playfully and looked at him accusatorily, “I told you. I don’t like gifts.”

He shrugged and handed her a small, flat box. “But you like me, so you’re going to let it slide.”

“Oh am I?’ she queried with a smirk, and Daniel nodded. Sam untied the thin ribbon around the box and lifted it’s lid. 

Inside was a small, star-shaped keychain, which resembled a sheriff’s badge. When she brought it closer to get a better look at it, she saw it was engraved with a phrase, and she couldn’t help but laugh. 

save a horse, ride a cowboy 

“I saw it at the checkout of one of the vintage shops when we were downtown and thought it was funny. I probably could’ve gotten you something better-suited if I didn’t discover your birthday was today, last week…” Daniel trailed off, waiting for Sam’s reaction. He hoped he wasn’t overstepping boundaries with the innuendo, let alone by giving her a gift when she told him not to. 

“No, it’s amazing. I love it,” she smiled, “it perfectly captures your essence,” Sam laughed, “and it goes perfectly next to this one.”

Sam grabbed her keys off the table and held them out for Daniel to see. She held up the new, shiny, small keychain with her racing number on it. The acrylic piece was in the Mercedes font that would be on the nose of the car next season, in her signature bright red. She clipped the keychain Daniel got her next to it and held out the pair for both to see. 

“There. Reminders of two of the best parts of my first year in Formula 1,” she whispered. Sam brought her eyes up from her keys and onto Daniel, who’s classic, shit-eating grin had made its way to where it belonged, along with a subtle pink tinge to his cheeks. 

The two of them stood smiling at each other for a second longer. If there weren’t so many other people outside of their close-knit group in the room, odds are they’d embrace in a long, sincere hug, maybe even share a kiss, swift or meaningful. 

Yet seeing as so many of Sam’s uninformed friends has shown up to surprise her, they opted for a friendly, quick side hug; one that you give an acquaintance in passing or a friend of a friend you’d just met… not someone you were exploring a relationship with, or sleeping with, or potentially developing deep feelings for. 

“Are you guys going to stand over there and whisper all night? Or are we going to travel to a galaxy far far away?” George shouted over the conversations of all the drivers huddled around the couch and television. 

Daniel rolled his eyes with a laugh, not noticing the way Sam was looking at George with a subtle agitation. 

“Out of all movies, you had to pick Star Wars?” Daniel said loudly with a chuckle, causing an eruption of protests from the group. Some people said it was her birthday so it was her choice, others pointed out they were the ones who intruded on her plans, while a few people were berating Daniel for complaining because they were good movies, peak cinema, and iconic. 

Sam laughed at the reactions from everyone, and then replied over the noise, “hey, I watched that Ace Ventura movie last week, so now it’s your turn to watch a movie of my choice.”

“I’ll try, but I can’t promise I won’t fall asleep,” Daniel joked and held his hands up in defense, and grinned. 

As if they were a hive mind, nearly everyone in the room, at least those who had seen the movies before shouted, yelled, or whispered the iconic movie line, “do or do not, there is no try!” before they all broke out into laughter, made their way over to the living room, and settled into where they sat to eat their dinner and start the movie. 

But there was one person who was anything but settled, and of course that was George Russell. Because while everyone sat back and began to watch the movie, all that he could think about is what Sam had let slip:

Last week? But Sam was in Colorado last week, by herself…? 

Had Daniel gone with her? Had they been together the whole week? Alone?  

FRIDAY

“I don’t like surprises, Sam. Or being blindfolded,” Daniel protested yet again from the passenger seat of Sam’s car. 

She laughed, “I know, but we’re almost there. And I’m gonna remember that blindfold comment for the future when you try and—”

Daniel interrupted her, quickly correcting himself after what she had alluded to, “I actually love surprises. Surprises are my favorite. I could get surprised every day of my life if I wanted. You’re going to have to cut this blindfold off me because I just don’t want to take it off I love it so much—“

“Easy, tiger. You can drop the theatrics, we’re here.”

Sam laughed, put the car in park, and then made her way around to the passenger side to help Daniel out. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation, and Sam had to stifle her laughter even more so she didn’t give anything away. 

“Okay, take off the blindfold,” Sam said, turning him to face the entrance of their destination. Finally having been granted permission, Daniel quickly tore off the sleep mask. With her hands over her mouth, Sam couldn’t help but double over in laughter as realization dawned on Daniel and his features dropped from wanderlust, to confusion, then straight to annoyed. 

“We’re at the track?! We were in the car for an hour! That means you just drove around in circles for—“ he was flailing his hands around with wild gestures at the entrance of the paddock, his voice cracking somewhere between a whine and a laugh. 

Sam cut him off proudly as he tried to do the math in his head, “Twenty five minutes, yep.”

She began walking and Daniel followed. Through the turnstiles, down the main stretch of tents, and towards the pitlane. 

“Why are we here? It’s empty. The paddock doesn’t even open for another hour…”

Continuing toward the corner which would soon reveal where the starting grid would be in a few days time, she replied, “Well, remember how you got your seat fit yesterday for the Earnhardt show run tomorrow?”

He nodded. 

“I commandeered the custom order by calling the shop and asked them to make an extra seat because…” they rounded the corner and Sam let the sight in front of them finish her sentence for her. 

Two stock cars came into view; one wrapped in a red number 66 and the other in a teal number 3. 

Daniel stopped in his tracks, and Sam couldn’t contain her excitement, bright eyes with her hands clasping in front of her mouth at his reaction. His eyes were wide at what sat in front of him as he pieced the context clues together: the seat fit, the racing numbers, and the woman who stood between both of the vehicles they’d be racing. 

“Samantha!”

“Danica!”

Sam closed the space between the two women and brought them together into an eager embrace. She pulled away and looked between her two friends. 

“Daniel, I don’t think she needs an introduction, but this is my friend Danica Patrick. Nascar and Indycar legend business owner, and most importantly, the main reason I was able to get considered for the seat at HAAS, but among other things, she was my mentor for my first year in IndyCar, and is a great friend of mine.”

Danica smiled and brushed off the comment, “Oh please, I just gave the team a nudge in the obviously right direction. Proving my point, congrats on the Mercedes ride, kid!”

Daniel smiled to himself at the crimson color that flushed across Sam’ cheeks; just another thing that a few months ago he never would've thought he’d notice, let alone appreciate or allow to set off a box of fireworks in the depths of his stomach. 

“Thank you,” her eyes momentarily dropped to the asphalt of the track below her feet, trying to escape the heat coursing through her cheeks. Yet her head lifted as if she suddenly snapped back to reality. “Oh, and Dani, meet Danny,” Sam gestured between the two people in front of her. 

“Lovely to meet you,” he smiled, reaching out to shake Danica’s hand. “Sam, are my assumptions correct in saying that this means we’re gonna be driving these?” He knew the answer, and his grin growing with every second that passed gave that away. But he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to hear Sam say it; something about her setting up a surprise for him based on a singular conversation they’d had, and during her home race and birthday weekend of all weekends… 

It gave him hope. 

Hope that this could get past slow. 

She coyly nodded and downplayed the gesture as if it were no big deal, “I called Danica when we were in Colorado. Hearing you gush about Nascar and how much you love it, I thought this would be a fun surprise. It’s no Earnhardt classic, but it’ll still be fun.”

He stood still for a moment, Sam unsure if something was wrong. But then in a singular swoop, he picked her up and hugged her, spinning her around one or twice. She shrieked in surprise, despite this being what she assumed was one of Daniel’s favorite ways to show affection, and then the two erupted into laughter. 

But then reality hit Daniel like a speeding train, and the gravity of the situation descended on him like a downpour; there were people around, and he’d definitely just crossed the line from private to semi-public. So he quickly and silently put her back down on the ground and took a step back. 

Distance. The smallest bit of distance could solve everything. 

Daniel was embarrassed, he hadn’t kept his word and he hoped Sam wouldn’t be too upset with him. Their odd interaction the day before flashed through his mind. She had gotten worked up over a near-miss kiss, which was valid, but even the potential of a hug had set her off. To keep things— including himself—  under control in the future, Daniel knew he needed to shift his priorities as well as his instinct from action, to words. It would be an adjustment, but he knew for her it was worth it. 

Yet Sam just stood there with a smile on her face. He decided she was acting like nothing had happened, so he decided to use his words instead of his default setting of physical touch before he looked too hard and saw the same panic in her eyes from yesterday. 

“I could kiss you right now, Thompson,” He whispered with a grin. 

“So do it.”

Her response took him by surprise.“But there are people—“ 

“Don’t worry, everyone here signed an NDA,” she shrugged. Daniel rolled his eyes at what he thought was a joke, but Sam stood there, a cheeky smile still at home in her lips. 

“I’m not kidding,” she said plainly. 

Daniel’s eyes went slightly wider for a split second, a proud look comfortable on Sam’s features. He was surprised she’d not only put so much effort into surprising him, but making sure their secret stayed just that— a secret. He thought for a moment that he’d underestimated her, but he dismissed that idea; she was extremely capable of far more than he had seen so far. 

“You’re really serious about keeping this a secret, aren’t you?”

She shrugged again, “I just want to do it right. Make it as normal as possible in our situation.”

With a shake of his head and a thin, graceful smile, Daniel took a step forward and lightly held her chin between his thumb and index finger, “I’ve told you before Sam, that’s not gonna happen. You’re the furthest thing from normal. You’re extraordinary.”

“The longer you’re sappy, the less time we have to drive stock cars,” she whispered, deflecting to hide her blush on the outside, and the volcanic eruption in her chest on the inside. 

“Right, let’s get to it then,” he nodded, shooting her a look of mock seriousness.

Danica gave them a safety talk, touched on features of the cars, the small details and differences it took to drive them, and then went over the rules of the short race they were about to have against each other. Two outlaps and at the drop of the green flag, a 12 lap race. 

“You’re going down Thompson,” Daniel said as he crawled into the car from the window and began to buckle his seat belts and restraints. 

Sam couldn’t help but laugh while tightening her helmet and making sure she was secured into the car. She smirked and stuck her head out the window towards him, opened her visor, and shouted, “You do recall that my said mentor and close friend was a successful NASCAR driver right?” She pointed toward Danica in front of them, who chuckled and gave him a small wave, Sam continuing when his head turned her way again, “This is not my first rodeo, cowboy.”

Daniel's smile dropped into a look which told her that he had forgotten, now looking like he knew he was about to eat his words. 

Another laugh escaped Sam at the sight of the crack in Daniel's confident exterior. She gestured from her eyes to his eyes with her two fingers, and shouted from across the starting grid. 

“I’m droppin the Hammer on your ass, Ricciardo!” 

Daniel nearly gasped at the movie reference. “Oh, you are not about to quote Days of Thunder at me and get away with it! It’s on!”

With another set of laughter, they both finished securing themselves into their cars, before an attendant came over to fasten their nets to the top of their windows and they were given the green light on their outlaps. 

Despite being just that, the two drivers were already messing with one another as if it were a real race. Following too close, trying to overtake, running one another off the curb— if it would make any non-motorsport fan gasp in fear at the sight, they probably did it. 

So when the green flag dropped as they crossed back over the starting line, all bets were off. At first, Sam was about half a car length in the lead. But after the short time it took Daniel to get the hang of driving the new type of car, and let alone on the track he hadn’t been handling it on before, he was back in business. 

The great thing about stock cars is that in regulation, you’re allowed to get within millimeters of your opponents. So of course, there were a few close calls, but one or twice they did bump into each other. Nothing to be concerned about, seeing as they were professional drivers, but just a little bump to make sure the other hadn’t fallen asleep behind the wheel. 

Sam had done it first of course, not a stranger to stock cars or getting dirty behind the wheel. Daniel on the other hand, was tentative in the beginning. He didn’t want to ruin the car he had been allowed to drive, and his mind kept drifting to the vintage Earnhardt car he’d be driving the next day. But all that changed the first time Sam bumped him, and then promptly flashed him her middle finger after, as she passed him. 

The twelve laps passed in a flash, and thankfully Sam’s videographer had been recording on a few different cameras, one being positioned on the finish line, because the race ended it what could only be considered a “photo finish”

But in the end, after Sam and Daniel had gotten out of their car and messed around, talking shit with playful shoves and, of course, more middle fingers, Sam had been announced to the two as the winner. 

She celebrated without an ounce of sportsmanship, and Daniel sarcastically rolled his eyes. He walked over and stopped her gloating dance moves by putting his hands on her shoulders.

“That was incredible!” He grinned, shaking her back and forth still high off the adrenaline. 

“I’m glad you liked it. I’m also glad I beat you,” she smiled, “can’t let you have all the fun, now can I?”

“Seriously, thank you. I—“

“Daniel,” Sam interrupted his pleasantries. “You’re welcome.”

They said another round of thank you’s to the team followed by their goodbyes, and then arm in arm, with their helmets in their free hands, they headed back to the paddock entrance. 

The stock cars were pushed off the track and into a spare garage, Danica and her team went their separate ways, and once Daniel and Sam made it out into an area where a few people would soon start to funnel in, they dropped one another’s arms and walked back to the car side by side, some distance between them. 

Distance. The smallest bit of distance could solve anything. 

And just like that, it’s as if the last hour had never happened. The only evidence left was the personal footage stored on a few centimeter long SIM cards, and the memories they had tucked into their subconscious. 

Howdy y’all and welcome to Austin, Texas! Obviously, from the look of me, I’m very excited to be here. It feels incredible to be racing at home again; my first official home race as a Formula 1 driver! Since it’s a special race, I wanted to do a special helmet. 

Here she is, folks, in all her glory! As you can see, the horns are back for the special occasion! But most of all, my muse for this idea was Lady Liberty. She’s a monument that was gifted to the states by France in 1886 that represents friendship, freedom, and equal opportunity; her torch of enlightenment showing us the path to liberty. The whole thing is this iconic blue-green color, even the horns, and— oh! These little accents on the horns that make them look like they’re rusted a bit! Those are my favorite parts! You can see her iconic crown along the front, along with details of her torch on the back, and my number 66 in roman numerals right above this section that looks like the layered fabric of her gown. 

My parents once took me on a trip to New York when I was a kid, and I was so excited to see the Statue of Liberty, it’s all I talked about the whole trip. We were going to go on the last day, but there was a lightning storm, so the public wasn’t allowed to climb to the top observation deck of her crown. I was so upset I didn’t talk all night, but my dad decided to extend our trip one more day in hopes the storm would stop, which it did, and I remember feeling on top of the world when I was up on that viewing deck. In a way it feels like I’ve been chasing that feeling ever since. 

So she’s pretty sentimental, but she’s also an American icon, and I feel like we’re pretty similar, or at least we have a few things in common.

Yet what Sam didn’t say, or more so along the lines of what her team had forbidden her from saying is as follows:

“We’re both women, standing in our home as a symbol of freedom—of hope. A home that idolizes men, puts them on pedestals, and allows them control over what should be shared. We’re just two strong, resilient females who are still standing after everything life has put us through. She’s been used as a symbol for the women's suffrage movement for years; they fought the idea that there was a monument modeled after a woman which represented freedom, in a country where women were not free themselves. So they took it back. And in a way, I feel like I am fighting to take back motorsports for women every weekend in the paddock; fighting for equal opportunity and our right to race.”

The piece of paper with the abandoned remainder of her speech sat not too far off camera, held down under her water bottle. A gust of wind blew across the track, bringing Sam back to reality, and sending the piece of paper flying off somewhere where it’d never be seen again. 

We’re just two badass women doing what we do best, except one of us is 305 feet tall, and the other one is 5 feet 9 inches tall… So the goal is that Lady Liberty will bring me luck this weekend. I hope I can score some solid points for all the American fans, and stand on my own sort of pedestal on Sunday, if you know what I mean. 

“There’s everyone’s favorite blueberry!”

Sam’s smile immediately dropped as she reared her head in bewilderment at what the interviewer for ESPN had just called her. 

“Since when did I become a squishy round berry?” She laughed as she tried to ease the confusion she felt, coming up to lean her hands on the metal barrier. 

The woman holding the microphone laughed with her before continuing, “at the gala?” She paused, as if she was waiting for something she said to spark a memory in Sam. “The popular video from the carpet?” Still nothing on Sam’s end. “Charles said your blue outfit made you look like Violet Beuregard-- the willy wonka character-- and now the internet is calling you a sexy, sultry blueberry. The memes are hilarious, and you’re telling me this is the first you’re hearing about it?”

What. The. Fuck. 

Sam was sure she looked checked out on camera for a moment as she tried to process the bit of information she was just given. Charles had likened her to a giant, swollen blue movie character, and she doubted he had meant it nicely. And sure, with the amount of blue she had been wearing, she probably did resemble a blueberry, but he didn’t have to use such a harsh comparison; everyone looked like they’d been shit on by a rainbow, but that was the point of the whole night. For example, she had thought he looked like a frilly version of what she saw in her toilet once a month, that had been thrown up on by the Ferrari logo, but she had kept that opinion to herself, like an adult. Of course, Charles being a dick was no surprise, but the fact that he’d done it the weekend of her home race and on public television irked her even more.  

So she laughed it off. 

“I haven’t seen them, but I’ll be sure to give them a look now.” She kept laughing, trying to hide her annoyance at the situation; it wasn’t the reporter’s fault for telling her what Charles had said, so there was no reason to ruin her interview by getting upset. But thankfully, the woman moved on. 

“First drives of the weekend done. The fans were incredible, the energy is electric, and you sure looked comfortable out there, P4 earlier today and P5 just now. How are you feeling about the rest of this weekend after today?”

“You know, I feel amazing. I have faith in our car this weekend as well as the new upgrades, and something about the energy of this weekend so far has me really confident for what’s to come tomorrow and Sunday. I’m not sure if it’s just the fact that it’s my home race, or my move to Mercedes being public, my birthday, or even having my family here. I just have a really good feeling about it all. So when Sunday night after the race rolls around, I hope I’m able to say that I did everything I could to make my country proud, and then enjoy a night of fun in Austin as a reward.”

In her mind she could see it now; loud music, drinks flowing, and her smiling friends. They would bar hop and line dance until their feet ached, probably wind up at a barbecue joint drunk ordering a meal at one in the morning, before making their way back to their hotels and slipping into bed; when she’d finally lay down, the weight of her tired, sore body would relax into the soft mattress and she’d reminisce on the fun they had that night and her great race results from earlier that day. And yes, the hangover that Monday morning would probably be killer, but well worth it. 

But, that’s not what happened. She wished it was, of course she did, how could she not? This weekend had the potential to be the best so far, both on and off the track. So how did she end up where she was right now? Her mind was clouded with the flashing of red and blue lights. And while she had expected to be reminiscing on the past, instead, all Sam could think about was what this now meant for her future. 

update regarding the taglist can be found HERE

thanks for always waiting so patiently everyone!

TUESDAY

Sam sat across from Molly on her bed inside the hotel room. The second she’d gotten to the hotel, she dropped her things in her own room and made her way up to the room that her best friend and Mick were sharing. The two girls sat and talked through everything that had been building up over the last month that they weren’t on speaking terms. They yelled, they cried, they laughed, then cried again. And now that Sam was filled in, relationships were reconciled, and life’s were updated, the girls were going back over the gossip as they waited for Mick to get back to the room. 

“So he wanted us to find out?” Sam asked, followed by a nod from Molly. “That’s masochistic at its finest level…”

The blonde shifted uncomfortably at the reminder of Lando’s words. Though her and Sam had made up, it didn’t make her any less guilty about what had happened. She felt stupid but more importantly she felt used, like a pawn in somebody else’s game. So she shrugged it off. 

“From what he said, it sounds like he was just expecting you guys to. Which to be fair, he has a point; any two rational, level-headed people would’ve just been upfront with each other,” Molly trailed off with a singsong tune, reminding her friend of the way her and Daniel’s egoes only amplified their miscommunication. 

Sam shot her a glare, familiar with the childish way she and Daniel handled the situation and not in the mood for a resurgence of the frustration she felt in regards to it. Molly raised her hands in surrender, “Okay sorry, not helping.”

The room descended into silence; it was similar to the comfortable silence they would sit in for hours, doing nothing but scrolling on their phone, reading, or going over data. But now… now it felt the slightest bit different. And Sam thought that maybe it would always be a little different. Though they’d made up, things can’t be unsaid, and things can’t be undone. They’d have to live with what happened for the rest of their friendship. The freshness of it all would soon wear off, Molly could only hope, and in no time they’d be back to their normal, comfortable, chaotic ways. 

Nonetheless, Molly’s guilt, which had yet to dry up and most likely wouldn’t anytime soon, urged her to apologize yet again. 

“Look, I know I’ve already apologized, and I know you’ve already said you forgive me, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to apologize enough for what I did. This past month of not speaking to each other has possibly been the worst of my adult existence, and I’m just glad you’re speaking to me again.”

Sam couldn’t help but laugh a bit, seeing as she had forgiven her best friend the first time she apologized, and she would still do it the fifth or the twentieth. “I know, Moo. Just promise me that we can be upfront with each other from now on? You’re one of my best friends, I don't think I can handle not bothering you, or texting you my random thoughts at random hours of the night, or doing this,”

She shot forward and tackled Molly in a hug. The girls shrieked with laughter as they fell backward onto the bed. 

“I missed you, Sammy,” Molly mumbled into her shoulder, tightening her grip around her best friend. 

“I missed you too.”

Suddenly, there was a noise at the hotel room door; the mechanism beeped as a keycard slid in and out of the lock. The two girls sat up, knowing it was the only other person with a key to this room. Sam let go of Molly and moved to the edge of the bed, eager to see the one person she knew she needed to have a conversation with next. Sam had overcome the larger obstacle with Molly, and now that she felt on cloud nine after they’d reconciled, she was ready for anything Mick could possibly throw her way. 

The door swung open; her adrenaline was through the roof. Who needed race cars when there were suspenseful friend reconciliations? Except Sam didn’t intend to let her friends go anywhere anytime soon after this, so she, unfortunately, would have to stick to the pinnacle of motorsport to satisfy the adrenaline junky within her. 

Their eyes locked, and while Sam had a small smile on her face, Mick looked determined. 

“Take the offer,” he blurted out. 

Sam was taken back by his bluntness right out of the gate. She had wanted to talk it through with him, weigh her options, and have him as a friend and a brother of sorts, be part of the decision making process, whether good or bad; his opinion mattered to her. 

She tried to explain but he interrupted, “Mick—”

But he was adamant on continuing, and approached where the two girls sat like a man on a mission. 

“No, I was an asshole who was being selfish and I said some really stupid things, when I should’ve been supporting you and celebrating your accomplishments— because this is an insane accomplishment. So take it. Take it and show those idiots in the media and all over that you are more than just a publicity stunt, that you’re an incredible driver with passion and talent, and a fierce motivation for success. If anybody is going to take that seat I’m glad—”

Sam rose from her seat on the bed and stopped his rambling by wrapping her arms tightly around him and embracing him like he was the last man on Earth. It took him but a mere millisecond to let out a sigh of relief and hug her right back. If the strength of his hug was any indication of how much he had missed his best friend, then Sam would’ve had all the air squeezed out of her. So of course, Mick refrained from strangling his best friend with brute force out of sheer elation, and opted for showing his affection with a kiss to the top of her head. 

“I love you so much, Sam. I’m so so sorry.”

“I love you too, Mick,” Sam mumbled her reply into his chest, feeling ontop of the world having her two best friends back. 

Mick let go of Sam and held her at arms’ length by her shoulders, “Well, don’t you have a phone call to make?”

Sam smiled at the smirk on his face, grabbed her phone from her pant’s pocket, and pulled up the contact she was looking for. Pressing the call button, she held her phone up to her ear as the line rang a few times, waiting for the person on the other side to pick up. 

“Hello?”

Sam smiled at her two best friends as they sat and watched, “Lewis! Hi, it’s Sam!”

She could see the smile on his face simply from the sound of his voice. 

“Awesome! Good to hear from you... Does this mean you’ve looked over the contract I sent you and have made a decision?”

As always, Lewis’s voice was calm, which made it easy to continue the nerve-wracking conversation. 

“Mhmm,” she hesitated, “I’m uh, I’m going to accept it— if it’s not too late of course.”

From beside one another, Mick and Molly silently but dramatically mimed as if they were cheering for her loudly, waving their hands, pumping their fists and kicking their legs. 

Lewis continued, “Not at all, Sam. Like I said, we were waiting on your response before moving forward. This is so exciting! I’ll have Toto reach out with a time to discuss the semantics on paper, then we can move forward with printing the contract as soon as possible so we can get it signed within the next few days.”

“This weekend?” Sam made a face of disbelief at her friends and watched as their eyes went wide and jaws hung slack; this was real, and it was really happening, and it was happening much sooner than she’d thought. But she persisted, “Wow, okay. I uhm, do you have time to sit down and talk me through what’s in store before I sign? I have no idea what to expect and I’m a little overwhelmed so it—”

He interrupted her with his placid tone, easing the panic he could sense in her voice, “Of course, Sam. How about the restaurant in the lobby of the Four Seaons in twenty minutes? I expect you’re staying there like everybody else?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you there. Thanks again Lewis, for everything.”

As she hung up the phone, she looked to her grinning friends. She could barely contain her excitement, hugs and congratulations were exchanged and in what must have been record time, Sam was out the door, in the elevator, down three floors twelve rooms deep into the hallway before she ended up at her destination. 

Pounding on the door incessantly, she shouted, “George! George open the door!”

Despite how loud her continued banging was, she could hear a commotion coming from behind the door before it swung open. “What, what?! Is everything alright?”

“Gah!” She groaned, shielding her eyes, “Where are the rest of your clothes?”

Stood before her was George Russell, hair wet and only in a towel, a scared look on his face at what he assumed was an emergency. 

He held the arm that wasn’t holding his towel up in defense, scoffing as he defended himself from Sam’s accusation, “You can’t bang on my door like a madman and then criticize me when I answer so urgently I have to get out of the shower mid-shampoo! You’re lucky I even grabbed a towel in time! Besides, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Sam smacked his bare chest with the back of her hand, embarrassed at his insinuation, “George William Russell!”

He laughed, and Sam rolled her eyes, pushing past him and into his hotel room, George closing the door behind her. “Besides the point. I have news! Big news! Gigantic news, even! News so massive—”

George groaned then cried out, “You’re killing me, Sam! Out with it!”

She turned to face him, reveling in the anticipation of finally being able to tell George now that she’d finally made a decision, “I got an offer to be your teammate as of next year.”

“Oh my god,” he stuttered. 

Sam couldn’t contain it anymore. “And I’m taking it!”

“Oh my god!” This time, he shouted it, bringing his free hand to his head. Eventually, he moved his feet and gave Sam a hug to the best of his ability without dropping is towel by accident.

They separated, buzzing with excitement. To free up his other hand, George tucked his towel into itself, bringing Sam back into a bone crushing hug.

The two laughed as George went on, “This is incredible!”

Sam pulled away, still holding on to his upper arm, “I know!”

George carefully put his hands on her cheeks, and playfully shook her head from side to side in a frenzy, “We’re going to be teammates! Look at us!”

She placed her hands on top of his to put a stop to his dizzying movement. “Right! I cant believe it!”

The room fell into silence for the first time since Sam arrived, and George’s hands stayed on her cheeks for a moment longer. Initially, it felt completely normal to Sam, but her smile faltered when something shifted in George’s eyes. Though she was looking at George as a friend, she wasn’t so sure George was looking at her in the same way. Daniel flashed through her mind, and she realized it felt far too similar to how he looked at her. She snapped out of her thought and softly took her friend’s hands from her cheeks and dropped them to his sides with a clear of her throat, hoping it wasn’t coming across as awkward as she felt. 

Sam took a step backwards towards the door, a small smile gracing her lips. “Look, I have somewhere to be, but please come downtown with some of us tonight if you don’t have any plans.”

The smile on George’s face reassured Sam that maybe he didn’t catch on to the slight air of discomfort Sam had wandered into, “I’d love to. Run along wherever you have to be and shoot me a text with the details!”

At his acceptance of her invitation, Sam grinned. She was probably overthinking this, right? She’d told George her and Daniel were trying out the more than friends thing, so maybe it was all in her head? 

That must be it. 

With a final wave, she walked out the door, George not far behind her to close it. Her next destination only so happened to be a few doors down. And seeing as she couldn’t contain her excitement, she ended up jogging the five-door distance, but didn’t notice George’s head peeking out the door to see her off. 

So what he didn’t expect was for Sam to stop in front of another door on his floor. He wondered who’s room it could be, the possibilities clouding his mind. But all was revealed when he heard the distant sound of her pounding on wood and calling out his name. 

“Daniel!”

In a matter of seconds George heard the light sound of the hotel door handle being pushed down followed by the creak of the hinges, and finally, the familiar Aussie voice. 

“Well?”

“I’m taking it!”

“Atta girl!”

Everything was moving in fast motion both, in his mind and infront of his eyes. Sam shrieked with laughter and launched herself through the doorway, and into what George assumed only could have been Daniel’s arms. He heard the slam of their door, and in the silence of the hallway, he was finally able to process the only thing that had been running through his mind. 

The way Daniel hadn’t even questioned her,  hadn’t been confused as to what she had been talking about, and was able to react, context and all:

She had told Daniel about the offer before him, and he didn’t know why it hurt his feelings. 

Hours passed and the group of drivers that was initially supposed to be small had grown to a decent size and were now headed to downtown Austin for a casual night of dinner, drinks, and shopping before the weekend truly started. 

It had begun with Molly, Sam and Mick planning to go, and then Daniel was invited because Sam wanted him to come, and then with Daniel came Michael. But when Mick saw that Daniel was bringing friends, he decided to invite Lance and Esteban, who brought his girlfriend Elena. Then Sam decided earlier that day why not invite George, who decided to invite Alex Albon who brought his girlfriend Lily. 

The group was collectively the most excited about Daniel tagging along, seeing that this was one of his favorite races in one of his favorite cities, so of course he knew all the places to go. 

Daniel took them to a large Western-wear retailer that was filled to the brim with stylish and outlandish clothing amongst rows and rows of cowboy boots, hats, and belt buckles. Styles ranged anywhere from traditional, to colorful, to vintage, to sparkly, to wild, to downright ugly; safe to say there was something for everyone. 

 “Y’all have got to get a pair of boots!” Molly clapped excitedly. The majority of the group was walking up and down the aisles of boots, looking for one of many shapes and styles that they liked the best. Of course, the southern girl already had her own pair of boots, three to be exact, so she offered her slim knowledge of her own few pairs to help the few girls among the group pick their pair. 

Elena smiled at Molly’s suggestion, her hands on the tall pair of classic pointed-toe suede boots with denim details. She turned to Esteban and grinned,  “Well, we’re going to need them for when we go bar hopping with everyone on Sunday!”

He smiled right back and mumbled something in French before giving her a kiss on the cheek and running off to find Mick and tell him they’d be there; he’d been trying to convince her all afternoon to come out with them all on Sunday night, and he’d finally succeeded. 

At the sight of all of her friends hanging out together, Sam couldn’t contain her smile. This is what she’d never thought was possible when she joined Formula 1; she always had a small inkling she’d be the outcast who everyone treated differently and dismissed because she was a woman. But looking around and seeing everyone here, getting along, spending time with her— with one another— it melted away any shred of doubt she’d once had that she had no place here with these 19 other men. She wished she could go back and tell herself at the beginning of the season that not every driver on the grid was out to get her, or was trying to avoid her or would treat her that way. She’d tell her that it gets better. 

Suddenly, Lance appeared out of nowhere and slammed his hands on her shoulders, causing her to yelp in surprise. “Alright Sam, time to keep your promise.”

Daniel peered over at her curiously from his place three pairs of boots to her right. 

“What promise is that?” the Aussie asked, causing Sam’s eye’s to go wide. He looked between her and Lance, trying to hold in his laughter at the panicked look of realization on her face. 

Lance shrugged and answered Daniel’s question, not knowing the significance his answer held to the timeline of Sam and Daniel's friendship. “Back in Monza, she promised me if I switched press conference times with her, she’d help me pick out a cowboy hat and a pair of boots when we got to Austin.”

Mentally, Sam face-palmed. Lance had just snitched on her without even knowing it, and Daniel couldn’t see a time in the near future where he would stop teasing her about this revelation.

“Oh did she now?” he queried sarcastically, bringing his hand up to rub his chin for dramatics. 

Groaning, Sam interrupted him by swatting his hand off his chin. “Hey! I did what I had to do!”

She’d been busted, and Daniel started to laugh. The girl rolled her eyes and tried to walk away, but without hurting her, Daniel reached out for her, pulled her toward him, and put her in a chokehold. 

“You’re a tease!” He chuckled, Sam grabbing onto his arm and trying to pry it off her despite how light he was holding her. 

“I am resourceful!” She corrected with a laugh, breaking free from his arms. “C’mon Lance, Daniel might be the resident cowboy expert, but I’m the American. It might be a more successful trip if he doesn’t come along.” Daniel simply laughed, going back to look at the boots. 

After everyone had bought whatever had caught their eye, the group began their walk though downtown Austin towards the barbecue restaurant Daniel reccomended. On the way there, they stopped to listen to live bands, take pictures of eachother as well as their surroundings, sign an autograph here and there, and stop in a few shops. Everyone was getting along great; the conversation never came to a halt. Well, that was until everyone sat down at the picnic table on the patio of Terry Black’s Barbecue and started to eat. Praises were sung, Daniel was thanked, and so many moan’s of delight were elicited it was borderline pornographic. At one point Mick even felt inclined to give Daniel a hug; sure he may have been on the road to one too many beers, but everyone laughed along with him. 

Once everyone had eaten whatever they could, being far too full for comfort, the group got back to chatting. After twenty minutes, the conversation had gone back to their plans for the weekend, more specifically Sunday night, then taken a turn down a road that Sam had hoped to avoid all together. 

From beside Sam, with completely pure and innocent intentions, Molly chimed in “Again, you’re all welcome to join! We’re going to wear cheesy, extra, cowboy costumes and go bar hopping after the race on Sunday. It’s to celebrate Sam’s birthday.”

“No it’s not,” Sam laughed.

Lily leaned over from a few seats down, “What? When’s your birthday?”

“Thursday,” George and Molly say at the same time. 

“You guys should come, it’s going to be fun. But it’s not a birthday celebration. It’s jus a night in downtown Austin,” Sam reassured everyone before dropping her eyes to her nearly empty plate infront of her, and shaking her head slightly with a silent laugh. 

“You don’t like to celebrate your birthday?” Lance asked, giving her a leg a nudge under the table with his own from where he sat across from her. 

Yet before she could answer, George chimed in. 

“She used to. Most of us have been out on the town for the iconic holiday party. Drinking, dancing, loud music, belligerent behavior, all eyes on her; it was her favorite day of the year.”

Then Mick picked up were he left off. 

“But now all she does is watch the same few movies on rotation and order take out,” he shrugged when Sam glared at him; it was true, but for some reason she felt embarrassed at hearing it said out loud. 

She brushed it off with a wave of her hand. “Things have changed and I like what I like, what can I say.”

Sam could feel everyone looking at her, and she could’ve been wrong, seeing as she found herself staring at her plate again, but it felt like everyone could feel her aversion to her birthday and was trying to make it a bigger deal than it needed to be. 

“Besides, I’ve already done enough celebrating for my birthday this year,” she clarified, her gaze subtly shifting to Daniel at the end of her comment. 

He’d heard what she said, of course he had, and he was the only one who knew exactly what she had meant by it. And while he’d wanted to look at Sam and wordlessly tease her from across the table, or even proudly smile at her with his pearly whites bared, he didn’t want to give anything away infront of all their friends. 

Slow, he reminded himself. 

So he fiddled with his fingers as a sly little smile graced his lips, and celebrated that they shared a secret that was only theirs. Sure a few of their closest friends knew, but all of the specifics, every last little detail of whatever they were, was theirs, just as Sam had wanted it and just as they planned to keep it for as long as possible. So for the smallest of seconds, he looked over at her, their eyes met, and then they looked their separate ways.

Who did notice the small moment between them was none other than George Russell. After what he’d seen in the hotel hallway today, it would’ve been a lie to say he wasn’t on edge. He knew they were together, and he knew they were keeping it a secret, but to him, everything subtle they’d done all afternoon had stood out to him like a sore thumb. And maybe it was because he was hyperaware or that his mind was all over the place. Yet for now, he’d keep it to himself. 

Lily chimed in again, “I think that’s great. You guys live this insane, fast-paced life. Sometimes it must be nice to do absolutely nothing, when you should feel inclined to be doing everything.”

Alex wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close while Lance went on. “I get it, but that’s ignoring one of the best parts of this job; to take advantage of the lifestyle and make insane memories. Like… grasping what’s in our reach, ya know?”

“Lily’s right. I can make just as many memories doing nothing as I can going out and getting wasted,” Sam said, offering the girl a smile. “Plus, we all saw what happened when I had fun in Monaco…”

Everyone laughed. 

“But why not do something small then? What’s the fun in doing nothing?” This time, Elena piped up. It was interesting to see Sam’s close friends sitting through what they’d heard so many times after they’d tried to convince her to go out night after night, year after year, while all the new friends or friends she’d re-gotten in touch with tried to comprehend her peculiar thought process. 

Nonchalantly, Sam replied, “I don’t need it to be fun, Every other day of my life is fun.”

“But isn’t that lonely?” That one came from Michael. 

Sam shrugged, pushing around the last bit abandoned coleslaw on her plate, “Just because I’m alone doesn’t mean I’m lonely. My dad told me once that a caterpillar is alone in the stage of it’s life when it gets it’s wings. It’s cheesy but it’s food for thought”

From his seat across the table, Daniel couldn’t help but watch her discreetly as she internally sulked. He understood the point she was trying to get across earlier. In Colorado, he’d firsthand seen her thrive away from all the hussle and bustle of nightlife and fame; they’d had plenty of fun. That, however, wasn’t the part of her statement that had puzzled him, so he couldn’t help but speak up, “But say you’re already a butterfly, what happens to butterflies when they’re alone?”

She looked up from her plate, and smiled at Daniel sarcastically. “I don’t know, I’ve never managed to catch one and ask.”

He could tell something was off since they had started talking about her birthday, and though she was being sarcastic, it wasn’t playful or as charismatic as it normally was when she mocked somebody close to her. Before he could change the topic in hopes of saving her from having to talk about it more, Lance spoke up. 

“Quick change of subject, but I think we’ve been made,” he pointed to the group of people sitting at a table not too far away, a few of them wearing F1 team merch as they stared and tried to discreetly take pictures of the group of drivers and their friends. 

Everyone looked to where Lance was pointing, a few people at their table waved while others tried to casually hide from the cameraphones. 

Michael was the first to speak up, “We can head to Click’s now if you guys still wanna shoot a few rounds of pool?”

Everyone nodded or agreed and the group started to clean up their table, throwing their trash away and grabbing their stuff. Eventually, they all made their way off of the restaurant patio, but not before taking a few pictures and signing a few autographs. 

They made their way behind Michael towards the pool hall he’d frequented so many US race weekends. The group was walking in a pack, everyone talking to everyone, existing duos and trios shuffling to form new ones. The few drinks at dinner had done wonders at opening everyone up a bit, and the fun had only just started. Sam and Molly found themselves at the back, arms linked and smiles wide. 

Molly grinned, gesturing to Mick and Daniel who were walking not far in front of them, chatting animatedly. “Would you look at them? Our boys are best friends!”

Sam laughed at her enthusiasm, a smile growing on her face at the sight of the two men in front of her. 

Her best friend admired the look on the driver’s face, and went on, “We’re gonna be seeing a lot more of him, right? I really like him, he brings out this side to you that I rarely see. You’re so, so… smiley! Even now more than before.”

Unable to find the words, Sam laughed and shook her head. It felt like things were going back to normal between them. She’d missed her best friend teasing her, and how relentless it could be. 

“Can we keep him, can we keep him!? Pleasseeeee,” Molly begged, imitating a child. 

Finally, Sam found time between her laughs to speak up. “Alright, alright! Keep it down! We’re trying to keep it on the down-low.”

Molly nodded and looked around suspiciously, making sure nobody was within earshot. She leaned closer to Sam and talked quietly between them as they continued to walk. 

“We have boyfriends! And they are friends!”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Moo,” Sam reared back a bit at the official term, one her and Daniel had avoided completely with reason, “We’re taking it slow. No labels. No strings. Not yet anyway.”

“Emphasis on yet,” Molly whispered, reaching over and tickling Sam to get a laugh out of her. 

Daniel turned around from between Mick and now Lance to face the girls, met with them laughing as Sam tried to get away from Molly and swat her hands off. “You two gonna keep lollygagging? Or are you gonna join the rest of the group?”

Sam rolled her eyes and flipped Daniel off, but Molly reached over and pushed the salute out of sight and shouted, “We’re coming, we’re coming” before the two girls caught back up with the rest of their friends. 

WEDNESDAY

Guenther had both of his drivers and their teams, consisting of their managers, physios, press officers, and PR liaisons, sitting in a conference room inside the hotel to talk about what this race weekend had in store. 

“First thing on the agenda this weekend is Lewis’s Rainbow Gala. We’ve been given the color blue to wear, and we have Sam to thank for that. The only reason we didn’t get stuck with an obscure color like yellow or purple is that she’s ranked seventh in the championship right now, we got the fifth pick, and luckily all the drivers in front of her had teams with dominant colors.”

Everyone nodded and Guenther continued, turning to the seats where Sam and Mick say. 

“What did you guys decide to put up for the blind auction?”

Mick started, “I signed the misprinted side pod that went viral during testing, an old signed photo of my dad, and I also thought I could auction off riding lessons with my sister.”

Their team principal looked at Sam next and she listed her potential items, “I have the signed race-worn helmet from Monza, the orange piece of carbon-fiber from the iconic pit stop in Monaco, or the gloves I wore when I won the Indy 500.”

He nodded, and brushed his hand into the air, not lingering too much in the details and trying to get through this meeting as quickly as possible. “Pick whichever you think will garner the most money, and make sure you prepare a little speech for when you present it.”

The drivers nodded and Guenther continued without acknowledging their confirmation. 

“Now Thursday is media day of course. Mick, your press conference is with Checo at 11:30. Sam, yours is at 12:30 with Lando. The NBA is having a popup to celebrate seventy-five years. Dunkin Donuts has a stand in the paddock, you’re both limited to one donut a day. A gatorade dunk tank is here all weekend, which I don’t advise you taking part in, but if you do, please do it on Thursday after interviews. There’s a Nascar sim run by Danica Patrick, which you’ll be excited to hear about Sam. We have our Ralph Lauren associate coming in at 9:15 to take sizes and show you guys samples for our photoshoot on Friday Night. Sam, your GoDaddy reps should be stopping by to film a promo with you at some point, but we don’t have the exact day or time, so stay tuned. We’ve got two YouTube videos to film for the HAAS F1 channel this weekend. We’re thinking the emoji challenge, and Mick tasting Sam’s favorite American snacks.”

Sam and Mick looked at each other with excitement; this weekend was going to be intense, jam-packed and quite possibly overwhelming. Yet it had the maximum potential to be extremely, extremely, enjoyable. Especially since their car set-up is well suited for the medium-high downforce of the fast COTA corners. 

“Anything else before I let you all go?” The team principal looked around the room at everyone, waiting for a question or a comment to stop him from dismissing everyone. But when that didn’t come, he bid everyone adieu and the room cleared out. 

Well, everyone except for Sam. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute, Guenther?”

He looked up from his cellphone, “What can I do for you, Samantha?”

She wasted no time getting to the point because she knew if she hesitated at all, she would freak herself out and start to overthink. She was already nervous enough for this conversation, the last thing she needed was to get into her head.

“I— I uh, I wanted to talk to you about next season. I’ve got contract offers from three different teams and I wanted to let you know before I make any decisions.” 

Yes, Sam had already verbally accepted Mercedes’ offer, but she didn’t need to tell him that. She didn’t like lying to Guenther, not after everything he’d done for her. But she knew that she wasn’t going to be staying with HAAS regardless of whatever he could offer her, not with the offers she had received and the struggles she’d had with the car, not to mention the lack of funding. Like everyone had said, if this is how she was performing in a HAAS, there’s no telling what she could do in a top car. 

“I had a feeling this was coming,” he sighed and dragged his hand down his face. 

Sam’s stomach twisted at the dejection in his voice, so she jumped in to try and control some of the damage, “You took quite possibly the biggest gamble by signing me, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get across how thankful I am. You’ve fought for me tooth and nail on countless occasions, and I respect you so so much. So if you do want to offer me a contract extension, I would love to hear what you have to say before I give an answer to any of the other teams.”

Lying wasn’t easy for Sam, and it hurt her to do it, but it would hurt more if Guenther knew what she had done; for once, she was okay being a bit selfish in this industry. 

He let out another puff of air, and there was nothing that could’ve prepared Sam for what would go down in the next three minutes. 

“Sam, I’m going to be honest. We’ve loved having you as our driver this year. You’ve accomplished so much for yourself and the team, exceeding any expectations we could’ve possibly had. I want nothing more than to offer you an extension, but I can’t.”

Her head began to spin, like someone had cut off her supply of oxygen or taken the air right out of her lungs. Sam’s genuine disorientation must have been written all over her face, there’s no reason it shouldn’t have been. 

Hoping to shed a little light on the situation, Guenther continued. “With your contract contingency and the behavior stipulations, I’ve talked with Gene, and we just haven’t had solid faith you’ll even be driving in F1 next year based on your track record so far this season and everything that has transpired.”

Her vision and mind stabilized at his words; now she felt as though she could breathe again, but she wished she couldn’t. A knife to the chest would’ve been easier to handle in comparison to the words that had just left the mouth of somebody she respected.

“No faith in me? I— And what do you mean you don’t think I’ll be driving next season? I just told you I’ve got offers for three other teams, great offers might I add. The only reason I haven’t signed them already is out of respect for you.” She pointed her finger at Guenther from across the table, before placing her hands back on the glass table for stability as she leaned forward.

He rolled his eyes, and a fuse lit inside of her chest. Her torment shifted to anger, and it only got worse once Guenther began speaking to her as if she was a child; as if the reasoning behind this decision was obvious. “Sam, we knew about your blowup in 2017, we knew about your reputation, both emotionally and as a driver. From what we’ve seen, we just don’t think you can go without getting all three of your strikes. The trend that your temper is taking—”

That fuse began to grow, nearing the strength of a flame, maybe even a roaring fire. She didn’t want to prove Guenther’s point right, so she reeled her flammable emotions back in. With a deep breathe, she interrupted. 

“I’ve gotten one strike so far, and it shouldn’t have even been a strike! I have years to possibly get those strikes, and there is only a little over a month left in the season so it’ll reset to zero strikes soon; a clean slate. Besides, I’ve been working on myself every goddamn day to try and be what the everyone wants me to be: this poster princess who behaves and just shuts up while everyone else gets away with anything. But me? I cant step outside of my car without being called reckless, or provocative, or a publicity stunt!”

Guenther took a few steps toward her, which she matched by taking a few steps back, “Sam, I chose to sign you because of your personality. It was never my intention to change you or dull you down. You’re an exceptional driver and I wish we could sign you, but the risk is just too risky for us right now. We’re broke, and if any of our sponsors found out about the three-strike rule—”

“They’re not going to find out,” she interrupted plainly. 

She could tell Guenther was starting to get frustrated, and a small part of her was satisfied; she was turning the tables on him. It was her turn to push her buttons. But that euphoria lasted mere seconds. 

“My point, is that you don’t have years, Sam. The strikes don’t reset. Once you get— if you get three strikes, you’re done in FIA overseen motorsports forever. I was informed that was the risk you took signing the contract; all or nothing.”

If it were possible, the world stopped spinning on its axis at that very moment. The deception was spreading through her veins like poison. It was debilitating. It exhausted her in an instant. Every ounce of fight she’d had in her mere moments ago was gone. The fuse was extinguished. 

“What? That can’t be right, when I read over the contract all it said was three strikes, it was vague— I, I shouldn’t have assumed, I should’ve specified. But I’ve mentioned this before— and, I— and you didn’t tell me?” 

She stumbled over her words and tried to form a coherent thought, but her mind was moving far too fast, working through the problem and trying to figure out a solution at the same time. 

She should have asked for clarification. 

Maybe she didn’t read all the fine print?

There was no way she would let it get to the point, so it didn’t matter. 

But the FIA had created infractions out of thin air for her on track before, what was stopping them from doing it off track too?

She couldn’t tell anybody what she’d found out. She wouldn’t. 

But Guenther? His words came out clear as day: 

“The sponsorships you were to bring were far more substantial—”

Just as she thought it couldn’t get any worse, another blow to the gut. She was tempted to cry, but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Because in a way, she wasn't sad, or betrayed or furious. She was mainly disappointed. So she strapped herself back on the rollercoaster of emotions and let herself get angry again. 

Because it was easier to be angry than crushed. 

“This is about the money?! All of the fighting for me, all of the sticking up for me, was motivated by the money I brought the team?” 

Her yell echoed throughout the empty conference room.

Silence. 

“They were right? This was all a publicity stunt to bring in attention and money for the team?”

Silence. 

“Wow. Well you know what? I’m going to take my best offer, and prove you so wrong that when you see me on podiums next year, you’re going to feel the most bitter, excruciating pain in the pit of your chest and be reminded exactly what you took advantage of.”

And with that, she stormed from the conference room and prepared herself to make a phone call. 

“Ms. Thompson, lovely to see you.”

As she was let into the large ensuite hotel room, Sam smiled at her stylist whom she’d seen multiple times this season already. 

“You can call me Sam,” she corrected with a weak smile. 

“Alright, Sam. I’ve got your samples for the gala tonight. Mr. Steiner and I looked over a few designs this past week and he picked ones he thought would best suit you and Mr. Schumacher's color scheme.”

Sam walked over to the clothing rack across the room, running her hand along the various pieces of clothing differing in shades of blue and textures of textiles. “Right… blue”

“And Guenther wants all of you to be in a nontraditional shade. Something like sky blue, cerulean, cobalt, electric, or sapphire. Navy was too bland for him,” the stylist said, meeting Sam by the clothing rack. 

A chill ran up her spine at the mention of her team principal and their eventful conversation from this morning. 

With a chuckle, Sam picked up the sleeve of a glittery neon blue gown and rubbed the course fabric between her index finger and thumb, “I was hoping for something more neutral like black or white, maybe even red.”

“Teams with a dominant color got first pick. Ferrari is Red, McLaren is Orange, Aston Martin is Green, Mercedes chose Black, RedBull white, and Alpine in pink and so forth,” she replied, repeating what Guenther had told them that morning. 

She smiled at the kind woman as she moved out of the way to allow her access to the clothing so she could do her job. 

“So here’s what we have,” the woman grabbed a hanger from the rack and held it up, “Floor length, strapless, made from gorgeous satin sapphire fabric.”

Sam looked at the dress and wrinkled her nose at the sight; it wasn’t ugly, in fact, it was gorgeous, but she wasn’t interested in wearing it that night. 

The woman saw the face she’d made and moved on. “Or this.  lowcut, halter top, dusty light blue number, with an amazingly long sit up the side, leaves the people guessing.”

Sam walked over to the dress and felt it, before moving back to clothing rack behind them, brushing her hand along the many blue options yet again. 

“Guenther’s top choice is this one shoulder, sequin cerulean gown. Not necessarily floor length, it’ll probably fall below your knee, but it gives us the opportunity to show off these amazing blue platform heels,” the woman continued to hold up dresses other people had picked out for her, but a pair of blue pants sticking out from the pile of clothing caught her eye. 

She grabbed the hanger it was attached to and held it up, showing off the pantsuit and matching top underneath. Something about it made her smile, “What about this one?”

The woman smiled back, “A suit?”

Sam shrugged, “I don’t see why not. The color is definitely nontraditional so it technically meets all of Guenther’s criteria.”

The woman delicately took the hanger from Sam’s hands and inspected it herself, “I mean we can definitely try it. It’ll be a bold choice. You’re the only woman on the grid, everyone expects you to be in a decadent gown.”

That was it.

That’s why she felt so drawn to it rather than a gown. 

She wanted to do something unexpected. She wanted to break a gendered stereotype. She wanted to do something unexpected. 

A subtle smirk formed on her lips, “I’ve worn insane gowns the last three events. It’s getting a little repetitive, don’t you think?”

The woman laughed, “They were all wildly different, so I don’t think they were repetitive… The black piece in Austria was stunning, it made headlines. The red dress in Russia was incredible, until you took scissors to it…” 

“I like it better now to be fair,” Sam dismissed, taking a seat on the couch as the stylist headed back to the read and dug through the abundance of hangers. 

After a minute or so, she turned around with three or four outfits in her arms. 

“Well we can try the fitted maya blue suit with the corset top under it, but what if we strayed from the single shade of blue and took the corset from this set, and paired it with the oversized blazer and wide leg pants from this steel blue set and maybe the best from this one—”

Sam cut her off in excitement, “And I can wear those sapphire platforms you were excited about?”

With a smirk of her own, the woman set the outfits on the couch and turned to grab shoes and accessories. “I like the way you think, Sam”

Welcome back to Austin, Texas on this fine Wednesday evening, everyone. I’m Will Buxton and you’re currently joining us for live coverage of the first ever Formula 1 Rainbow Gala. For those who are just joining us, this event as been put on by the Mission 44 foundation in support of LGBTQ+ youth, where later tonight an auction will take place to raise funds for Covenant House, which run youth centers across the globe. In his final year on the grid, Lewis Hamilton has united the paddock for a night of color, fun, and charity. 

We just spoke with Alpha Tauri Drivers Pierre Gasly and Yuki Tsuonda, and might I say they are the only team I would trust to pull off the color yellow. The outfits tonight have been nothing short of fantastic, creative, and spot on with the theme. And coming our way, dressed head to toe in various shades of blue, are HAAS driver Samantha Thompson and Mick Schumacher. 

Look at you two, you look phenomenal! Another pair of drivers in suits, my oh my! Sam I was hoping for a lush blue ball gown rivaling the blue of the sea, but the range of blue’s between the two of you makes up for it! You’ve got what, five or six different shades?

“Seven, actually”

Incredible, just incredible. We’ve only got a few moments together, but I’d love to hear what you guys think about tonight so far. 

“It’s been fantastic already. It’s for a great cause and I hope it’s a big enough success to continue in the future”

“Yeah, it’s a great way to start off an exciting weekend back home. I admire Lewis’ tenacity and his drive for change, and I think his influence is going to be missed next year after he retires.”

That’s right, it’s your home race weekend, Sam. Any exciting plans off the track?

“Nothing too crazy. Just barbecue and good company,”

Amazing. Last question, events like these give the eclectic and flashy an outlet to be seen and heard, what’s the most interesting thing you’ve seen tonight?

“I know what Sam is going to say, but I’d definitely have to go with Jost Capito’s purple top hat”

“Oh, definitely Trixie Mattel. She’s my favorite drag queen and I had to contain my inner fangirl when she interviewed us earlier down the carpet.”

I love it. Well, good luck this weekend; our American team racing in America! Enjoy tonight, lovely to see you both. 

It’s odd to me Sam would choose to wear a suit, when the nineteen other drivers would be wearing one as well. She’s our breath of fresh air and the dresses she’s worn in the past have flattered her so well, what a shame. 

But oh! Next up is the Ferrari drivers! You gentlemen look dashing in all this red!

“Why thank you Will. This color is iconic, no?”

Yes it is. You lot went the monochromatic route, it seems. Very simple, very classy, to the point. It screams, “I’m a driver for Ferrari”. Incredible. 

How’s your night been so far? Has it made you more excited for what’s inside?

“It’s a great cause, and even though we’ve walked the carpet so far, and speaking for myself, I can say it’s made me extremely excited for what the rest of the night has in store”

Charles what about you?

“Just from the looks of it, tonight is going to be wonderful. I cant wait to see what’s in store.”

Alright, the question of the night. At such a bright, colorful, and some may say camp event, what’s the most bizarre thing you’ve seen thus far?

“I mean, just this rainbow carpet itself. It’s massive! And bright”

“Charles is defnitely right, but I was going to say the outfits. All the teams and their colors, it turned out great. I never had any idea some of the drivers were so creative”

Carlos, you took my answer to the question right out of my mouth. They’re rather bizarre? I mean, did you see Samantha? She’s wearing a suit two sizes too big for heaven's sake!

“I saw! She looks the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka, no?”

Charles, you are totally right! A true visionary! Well I’ll let you guys go. Enjoy your night, and good luck with the auction, can’t wait to see what you guys have for us.

Fresh out of the shower after the gala, Daniel walked quickly down the hotel hallway and towards room 819. Once the three large numbers were in front of him, he brought his fist up to the wood and knocked a few times. 

It took a moment, but Molly finally opnened the door wide enough. “You’re just in time,” she said with a smile, stepping aside to let him in. 

“No, he’s almost late!” Sam’s voice corrected from the other room. Daniel headed past the foyer and into the sitting room of the suite, where he was met with Sam on the couch, nose buried in her phone, sandwiched between George and Mick as they looked over her shoulder. 

He laughed at her adamancy, “Well they haven’t posted it yet, have they?”

At his arrival, everyone on the couch looked up to greet him. 

Mick went to joke about Sam’s nerves, but interrupted himself at what he saw, “No, she’s just-- Oh my god”

Sam gasped, but George chimed in before she could even get a word in. “Crikey, man.”

Eventually, after Molly waved her hand onfront of her face a few times, Sam picked her jaw up off the floor and recoiled, “For Heaven’s sake, Daniel. What did you do to your face?”

She stood from her seat on the couch and approached him, Daniel trying to contain his laughter at her shocked look. He brought a hand to his chin and rubbed his facial which he had shaved into western-style mutton chops that were connected to his mustache by a patch of ahir running along his jaw, leaving his chin bare. 

“What? My chops? You don't like them?!” He wiggled his eyebrows and made a face that showed just how stoked he was about his new look. 

“They’re an interesting choice,” she mumbled, still studying his face. 

Sam minimized the space between her and Daniel, squeezing his cheeks between one of her hands, turning his head side to side before letting go and bining both of her hands to rest on either side of his face so she could run her thumb over the newly shaped scruffs of hair.  “I liked the beard. The full beard,” she pouted with a frown. 

He laughed, “I had to get in the Texan spirit!” He dropped his tone to just above a whisper, and lightly placed his hands on her hips, knowing everybody in the room was on the list of people who were aware of whatever it was he and Sam were, and in a sarcastic yet sultry tone he asked, “The cowboy look doesn’t do it for you?”

A blush crept up onto her cheeks as she shook her head and rolled her eyes at Daniel’s flirting. Though it was quiet, the three remaining in the room had seen and heard their little exchange. George rolled his eyes with a smiling grimace and went back to his phone, Mick shouted at them to get a room--which Sam happily reminded him that this was in fact her room, and Molly started to convince Mick he should grow out his facial hair. 

Daniel laughed, reaching up to grab hold of her wrists, “But the great part about hair, it grows back. Now don’t we have a an announcement to catch?”

A wide grin spread across Sam’s face at the reminder of what was to come in a few minutes as she dragged him back to the couch where the rest of her friends sat in waiting. 

She took a seat between George and Molly, Mick on the other side of the blonde, and Daniel taking a seat next to the British driver. In a flash, she pulled out her phone and opened the Instagram app. 

“One minute until midnight,” Molly said with excitement, Mick placing his hand on her knee and giving it a eager squeeze. 

Sam’s thumb relentlessly dragged down on the screen, incessantly refreshing the page. Her eyes flicked between the time in the top left corner of her screen. No change. The anticipation in the room was buzzing. The silence was creating an intoxicating suspense as the five sat on the edges of their seat all in a row on the couch and waited for what felt like an eternity for that minute to pass. 

Then, less than a second after the clock changed, Mick announced, “It’s midnight!”

Sam refreshed the page again, the small wheel at the top turning endlessly as the app searched whatever mainframes in connected for any new posts. The two of her friends on each side of her leaned in close, dying for a peek at would would soon hopefully pop up on her phone screen. 

Daniel’s arm was snaked around the back of the couch so his hand rested on her shoulder. 

George’s hand held lightly to her bicep in support. 

Molly had a double-handed death grip on her forearm. 

Mick’s hand found a delicate place on her knee as he nearly squished his girlfriend because he was leaning so far over. 

“There it is!” George shouted, pointing at her screen as the post from Mercedes’s instagram account popped up on her feed. 

Sam was officially a Mercedes driver for the 2022 season and now the entire world knew. 

The room erupted in cheers, shrieks, and laughter, and the whole group dog-piled on top of Sam. Eventually, they all rolled off of her, and not soon after Molly grabbed her shoulders and shook her, the two girls smiling and laughing, shouting explicative of excitement at each other. Mick playfully pushed Molly to the side and embraced his best friend in a hug. Once he released her, he pushed her towards George with a laugh, who gave her a hug and affectionately called her his teammate for the first time before rubbing his fist on her head in the style of a proper noogie. And lastly, Sam turned to Daniel who was waiting, that same shit-eating grin on his face,  with open arms. He uttered now you’re officially out of my league before Sam chuckled and launched herself into his arms and hugged him tightly with every muscle in her body. He squeezed her back and spun her around a few times before she connected their lips in a swift kiss. 

George pulled his eyes from the sight in front of him. He didn’t know what, but as he watched Daniel and Sam act like they were in love, something inside George twisted. Why was he upset? He wanted nothing but happiness for Sam, so why was the purest display of her happiness giving way to one small, ugly, green monster in the pit of his chest?

“It’s barely even Thursday and I can already tell this is going to be the most incredible weekend of the season,” Sam said with a smile as she leaned back further into Daniel and grabbed onto his arms which were wrapped around her neck in a doting hug from behind. 

If only Sam had been right.

tags:

@laura-naruto-fan1998 @mickcedesamgf1 @d0ntjudgemy50shades @theplobnrgone @ccloaned @lightsoutpierre @eitak-t @alternativemadchen @a-distantdreamer

@ricciardo-is-racing @glitterquadricorn @canadian-girl87 @riccardoshoey @sauce-pansexuals @eternallovers65 @eternalharry @dr3lover @defnotsobbing @hoodpankow @canyouseethesainz @markluv4u @slxtforbonten @aceniixx @the-art-of-existing @itsjustmyopinionf1 @prettybiching @thatchickwiththecamera @oneoftwoghosts @lovingdennishauger @verstfosi @icecoldtires @clairejpg @oyesmendes @eas-8 @capela-miranda @yearsof-war

Staring at the suitcases that were piled by the door a heavy sigh escaped your lips. To the outside world it looked like a couple going on holiday with the amount of baggage that was by the door ready to go but this was far from that. The pile only reminded you that your time had come to an end with Charles, you would be boarding a plane to head back to the UK and Charles was boarding a plane heading to Belgium.

Leaning against the kitchen counter you roughly wiped away the tears that were rolling down your cheeks with the sleeve of Charles’ hoodie. Never in a million years did you think this would be so hard but then again you didn’t expect to fall as hard as you did for him.

Charles slowly walked out of his room dropping his last bag on the pile, letting out a sigh himself. Running his hand over his face he turned on his feet making his way over to you engulfing you in a tight embrace. Instantly you felt yourself nuzzle your face into his chest, memorising how he held you, it was a feeling you never wanted to forget, you felt safe in his arms, you felt at home.

“That’s everything packed.” he whispered, resting his chin on the top of your head blinking back tears himself. “You ready to head out?” It was a pointless question because he knew the answer.

“No,” you sniffled, slowly looking up at him with silent tears still rolling down your checks.

Charles took a deep breath moving his hands so he was now cupping your face, his thumbs wiping your tears away. “I don’t want to go.”

“I know sweetheart, I know.” he hummed, leaning forward kissing the top of your head. “I don’t want to part ways with you either but we both have flights to catch.”

“I just wish we had more time.” you whimpered, leaning into his touch.

“This isn’t a goodbye okay, this is just a see you later.” he whispered, trying to reassure you just as much as himself.

His heart was screaming that this was the wrong thing to do, how he shouldn’t let you slip through his fingers but deep down he knew that you needed to go home. He just prayed that this was a see you later and the two of you would meet again.

SIlence fell across the room as the pair of you gathered up your bags, once you had slung your backpack over your shoulder you gripped your two suitcases taking one last look around the room, a small smile creeping on your face as you remembered all of the mornings spent on the balcony with your morning coffee, the evenings cuddle up watching a cheesy film.

They were memories you would never forget.

Blinking back the tears once again as you flicked the lights off before pulling the door closed.

No words were spoken as you made the journey to the airport in fear of breaking down in tears again. The feeling of Charles’ hand on your thigh kept you from letting your mind wander, you kept your focus on the feeling of his touch. Leaning your head against the window of the car you watched the scenery change as you got closer to the airport.

The closer you got the more you felt like you were going to burst into tears once again, you hadn’t heard back from Ferrari regarding your phone interview so there went the hope that you would see Charles again. You had seen how a long distance relationship had ended with your sister, they never worked, the distance always became too much and it caused people to drift apart.

Turning your gaze to Charles you could see his eyes glisten under the lights of Monaco, he was finding this just as hard as you were. You didn’t know if he had fallen as hard as you had but you could see that this was affecting him as well.

Feeling the car coming to a stop you sighed knowing that this was where you parted ways, well you had a couple of hours in the airport together then you would part ways, each going back to your own worlds.

Neither of you wanted to move, knowing that if you got out of the car it would make this a lot more real than it really was, but you knew you couldn’t stay in the car forever.

After around ten minutes Charles was the one to speak first.

“As much as I want to stay in the car we need to check in.” his voice was quiet as he spoke, scared if he spoke too loud he would crack.

“I suppose.” you mumbled, letting out a long breath, before you both climbed out of the car.

Fumbling with the sleeves of the hoodie you tried to help Charles get the luggage from the trunk but he refused to let you help so you stood there watching him until he had got the final bag out, locking up the rental car that would be picked up in the morning.

Ignoring the bags he took a few large steps over to you once again wrapping his arms around you, holding you tight as he took in the scent of your perfume.

“We are going to be okay,” he hummed, once again trying to convince himself. “Things will be okay, you are going to get this dream job of yours and we will find a way to be together again. I promise.”

“I don’t know about the job,” you sighed, leaning back so you could look at him. “They never got back to me after my phone interview, I knew my lack of languages would be my downfall.”

“But you are learning, that has to mean something.” Charles hummed, brushing his knuckles across your cheek. “They will know you are the perfect person for the job, you just need to have a little faith in yourself.”

“I guess.” you mumbled.

“I know so, babygirl.” he smiled, moving so he could gather his bags together to check in.

-

This was it, both of your flights had been called, this was the time to say goodbye. The two of you were having your own little movie moment amongst the crowds of people. One good thing about a night time flight mid week was there weren't many people around meaning Charles wasn’t getting swarmed. Nothing else mattered at that moment. Tears rolled down both of your cheeks as you stood facing each other.

“I got you something.” Charles said softly, crouching down, unzipping his backpack and pulling out a small gift bag. “I just wanted you to have this.”

Gently taking the bag off him you pulled out the item that had been wrapped in red tissue paper, this caused your lips to tug into a smile at the sight of it. Carefully you unwrapped the tissue paper, your vision blurting once again as you let your eyes run over the beautiful wooden photo frame with the picture his mum had taken on the night he took you to meet his family. It was one of your favourite photos from this trip.

“Char, it’s beautiful.” you breathed, running your finger over the glass.

“Just something to remember me by.” he whispered, watching as you carefully wrapped it back up, placing it back into the gift bag before storing it securely in your carry on bag.

“Like I am ever going to forget you Leclerc.” you giggled, pulling out your own gift for him. “In fact I got you this, well it was mine so it isn’t much but I wanted you to have it.”

Passing him the small paper bag, you watched with your breath held as he opened it.

Charles felt his heart skip a beat as he pulled out the woven red and white bracelet that you had been wearing since the day he met you. The one you had told him that you had it since you started supporting him when he first came onto the F1 scene.

“Babygirl, it’s perfect.” he whispered, blinking back tears as he slipped the bracelet onto his wrist. “I’m never going to take it off.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you found your fingers playing with his hair as you got lost in his eyes.

“How lucky am I having something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” you whispered against his lips as you rested your forehead against his.

“Are you really quoting Winnie the Pooh to me?” he chuckled, his breath fanning your lips.

“Hey, I’m not good with words and it fits okay.” you hummed, letting your eyes flutter closed as your gates were called once again.

“I may never find words beautiful enough to describe all that you mean to me, but I will spend the rest of my life searching for them.” he whispered, holding you tighter.

Before you had a chance to respond his lips came crashing down on yours, neither of you caring that you were in the middle of the airport. The kiss shared the unspoken words between the two of you, your heart pounding against your chest as he deepened the kiss leaving you feeling light headed.

As much as you didn’t want to pull away, you needed to get air back into your lungs. The moment you looked at Charles the tears started rolling down your cheeks once again.

Hearing the final call for your flight across the tannoy you let out a heavy breath knowing that this was it, this was where you parted ways.

“Let me know when you land and get home safely okay.” he breathed, pulling you into one final tight embrace.

“I will do and the same goes for your Char.” you whispered, inhaling the smell of his aftershave.

“Rappelez-vous, ce n'est pas un au revoir, c'est simplement un rendez-vous plus tard. Remember, this isn't goodbye, it is simply just a see you later.” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. “We will be together again, I can feel it.” he was fighting his emotions right now as he leaned back pressing a final kiss against your lips. “Now go before you miss your flight.”

Silently nodding you flung your backpack over your shoulder, taking one final look at the man you had fallen hard for. Blowing him a kiss you let out a shaky breath before walking away from him. The moment your back was turned there was no stopping the tears that fell.

Charles stood there watching you walk away wearing his hoodie, the number 16 getting smaller as you moved away from him.

It was official, you had slipped through his fingers and there was nothing he could do to change that.

It had been 52 days since Sam got word she had earned her first strike.

Nearly 7 weeks of keeping a low profile. 

And 4 race weekends trying to settle the media. 

Seeing as it was the race that fell after Monaco on the calendar, Baku had been the worst weekend of the season by far, not only on the track but off it as well. 

For the first time, Mick had finished ahead of Sam. It was obvious she was out of it, seeing as she qualified P14 and finished P15– her worst of the season. He had finished P13, the best of his F1 career so far, so it was hard to stay upset for long. However, no matter how ecstatic she was for her friend, it couldn’t stop her from feeling shitty about her own results.

Not to mention the frenzy the media had with their articles published with the pictures of Sam in Monaco. From Thursday press duties to Sunday post-race interviews, everyone had tried to get her to talk about it.

Sam was anxious all weekend, and it had obviously affected how she drove during the race. She was being put under a microscope by the whole world, and there was no way she could explain to everyone why it looked like she was taking it so much harder than she should’ve. 

Because of course, she couldn’t let anybody know about her violation of the FIA’s behavior clause they slipped in her contract. So to everyone else, she just looked like she was wildly ashamed of being exploited to the public—which wasn’t a total lie.

Because in reality, she was upset with herself that she had received her first strike. Not only did she let herself down, but she was 1 of 3 steps closer to letting her team down too. 

Before her Thursday media press conference, the team had decided that the normal way Sam would approach a situation like this would include acting as if it didn’t bother her, and even cracking some jokes before slipping in a well-rounded comment on the situation. So that’s exactly what she did in order to not draw any unwanted suspicion.

“I mean, I don’t see why everyone is making a big deal out of it. Everyone was having a good time and for some reason the tabloids only decided to put me on the cover, going as far as cropping out other drivers. I don’t blame them though, I looked pretty good…

“In reality, I won’t say it’s a violation of my privacy because these sorts of things come with the job. It’s just rather unfortunate that the media decided to villainize me in particular using such gendered, sexist headlines. All they had to say was, “Wow, Sam had too much tequila!” And that would have done their job for them.”

The next 3 races had been nothing to call home about. She tried her best to keep her head down and stay out of trouble, but where Sam goes trouble tends to follow. 

The only notable thing that happened in France was Sam DNFing with 12 laps of the race left. She was keeping a steady pace in 8th place when her engine gave out with no warning. It was pretty hot that day, so her team attributed it to overheating. 

The media hadn’t let up on Sam’s Monaco escapades just yet, but seeing as she addressed it in Baku, she had nothing else to say. She made sure to treat the weekend like it was business as usual. 

In Austria, the first race had gone well, Sam having finished 7th. She and Charles had been battling for positions nearly the entire race, but in the end, and much to his dismay, she came out on top. 

Once the race was over, Charles took it upon himself to waltz over to Sam in the middle of the paddock and start an argument with her about her dirty driving. The yelling led to hand motions, which led to them speaking in French, which led to the space between them getting alarmingly small. 

Yet when Sam caught wind of cameras starting to turn in their direction, she backed off. But not before Ted Kravitz and his notebook walked by the two drivers. 

“Seems like these two might be in a little bit of a disagreement. I’d let you know what they were saying, but they’re talking way too fast. Oh, actually, they’re speaking French. Well, I don’t speak French either so let’s keep moving, and hopefully, they can sort it out.” 

Charles wasn’t too keen on ending their conversation there, but Sam didn’t care. It was already bad enough that their interaction would be playing out silently in the background on the latest episode of Ted’s Notebook, but she especially didn’t need to be caught by Guenther putting herself in a position to get back on the bad side of the media. 

The second race in Austria had started out exceptional for Sam the following weekend. She qualified in P5, which meant she was starting on the third row, which just so happened to be occupied by Pierre as well. 

When it came time for the race to start, Sam began flipping necessary switches and going through her normal routine. She was getting in her preferred headspace, getting ready to do what she loved most, where the media didn’t matter, and the cameras couldn’t reach her. 

But none of that mattered because the engine wouldn’t start. 

So that meant she had to get out of her car right before the formation lap and watch as all of the remaining drivers went around her stationary car and out onto the track. 

While she was sitting on top of her halo, watching the other cars drive off, Pierre looked over at Sam and offered her a wave as he pressed his throttle and drove off. 

As Daniel drove by, he offered her his middle finger. Sam rolled her eyes under her helmet but knew it was probably payback for flipping him off in Monaco. 

Now came Silverstone, which meant one race left until summer break. And it was perfect timing because Sam needed a break more than ever. 

“Good to see you guys. Hope you two have had time to rest and relax since Austria.”

Guenther walked into the conference room where Samantha and Mick were sitting for a meeting the principal had called upon everyone’s arrival at the track. 

“Seeing as though we’re just about a half of the way through the season, it’s time to start working more closely with our sponsors and creating new media for them.”

Sam and Mick nodded. 

“To start, you both have a Netflix interview tomorrow.”

Both drivers’ eyes went wide with surprise. They looked at one another, expressions laced with confusion, Silently asking one another if they had know about it. 

Mick finally spoke up. “Why? We already did our initial interviews. ”

Guenther sat on the edge of the conference table and crossed his arms. “They’ve decided they want you two to come in together and do an interview about the time you spent together as children and how it’s translated onto the grid.”

“I call bullshit. Odds are they want to bring my dad into it, and they’ve probably figured out a way to add in something about Sam’s Monaco scandal too” Mick added with a laugh. 

He knew Sam hated that everyone in the media was calling it a scandal. There was nothing scandalous about it. She got drunk just like everybody else. Someone just decided to sell out-of-context photos of her to the paparazzi. 

She rolled her eyes at Mick and looked back at Guenther. “Can they do that?”

“You specifically are not really in a place to have a choice,” she sunk further down her seat in embarrassment. She knew he was right. After the tabloids were released, she needed all the good media she could get, and if she denied speaking to them, it would only make her look guilty, not to mention suspicious. 

“Besides, you’ve had enough media training about the photos, so you’ll be fine. I have faith as long as you don’t let your negative emotions get the best of you. It’s Netflix; all they do is twist your words and try to push your buttons. And your buttons happen to be out in the open, big and flashing green with big letters “push me” printed on them. So don’t let them get under your skin,” Guenther finished, pointing his finger accusingly at her.

Again, Sam rolled her eyes. He wasn’t wrong but she wasn’t going to admit that. 

“Speaking of the photos, this is the finalized list of sponsors who haven't pulled out of their contracts since then.”

Guenther tossed the paper down on the desk in front of Sam. She picked it up, trying to control her breathing. She had been waiting for the team to get word from all of their sponsors. She’d feel horrible if her drunken escapades had been the reason why the team lost crucial funding, and now that she was about to find out, she was terrified.

Sam examined the list closely, checking for any company name that stood out to be missing. After what felt like the 100th time scouring the list and coming up empty, she looked up at her team principal, brows furrowed with a slight shake of her head. 

“You gave me the wrong sheet. This is a list of all the sponsors we had before the news broke,” she leaned forward and placed the paper back on the conference room table, sliding it back towards him. 

Guenther leaned down and slid it back towards her. “Nope. That's the right list.”

“What!?” Sam’s heart stopped and her eyes went wide. 

“Nobody decided to withdraw their contract”

Sam was speechless. 

“I planned to do as much damage control as I could, but when I called each of them, they were already adamant that we keep their sponsorships. Why they’ve decided to do that, I have no idea. You should consider yourself lucky. They must really like you.”

Mick finally spoke up. “Luck? Maybe it’s because they realize that everything that got released about Sam was sexist and taken out of context. Every driver was that drunk, not just her. I mean, every driver for the past 20 years has gotten that drunk after Monaco. They just focused on Sam because she’s a woman, and you know it” He huffed, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. 

“Well while that may be the case, it doesn’t change the FIA’s decision. The pictures still got published, and they decided it was a breach in the behavior stipulation of your contract.”

Sam rolled her eyes and dropped her head into her hands. The last 7 weeks had been a complete PR nightmare. At every chance, reporters would try and squeeze the full story out of her, or get her to speak on the subject, but after a whole weekend of media with little to no success, the media outlets themselves seemed to move on, but fans were still posting about it, both in support of Sam and condemning her actions. 

Guenther could sense her frustration. 

“We were blindsided. Nobody saw it coming. Photographers weren't even supposed to be allowed into that club. We’ve been trying to pinpoint who leaked the photos, but no luck. We’ll find out soon enough, the paddock is only so big. They can’t hide forever.”

“Someone probably leaked their own camera roll pictures for a quick cash-grab. I honestly don’t even care about finding out who did it. What’s done is done and we’ve done a great job at controlling the fallout. I won’t be getting any more strikes this season so it doesn’t even matter.” 

She shrugged, leaning back in her chair. 

“Besides, as long as the team isn’t suffering because of what some desperate, broke loser tried to pull off, then I think we should just try and move on. We can’t let the media hold any more power over this stupid incident.”

The frustration inside Guenther was growing, and it was obvious. “Yes, but your reputation will suffer when-“

“You know what fixes a shitty reputation?” She interrupted, leaning forward in her chair. 

Guenther stared at Sam, waiting for her to enlighten him. 

“Good performance. Podiums. Wins.” 

Her team principal tried to cut her off, but she kept going, her own frustration from the team she’d been hiding for the past few weeks finally making an appearance. 

“And I’ve had it up to my wit's end with people thinking all I am in this sport is a pretty face. If we make a spectacle about tracking down and punishing the mole, everyone is just gonna say that I’m making a big deal out of something that’s common, or that I’m not cut out for the spotlight being a Formula 1 driver brings.”

“They don’t know about the 3-strike clause and we need to keep it that way,” Mick interjected in support of his friend. 

Guenther looked between his two drivers. It was at this moment he realized that maybe all the benefits he had considered when it came to signing two drivers who were as close as Sam and Mick, had overshadowed the fact that they would always be a team, even when it didn’t come to racing. And that meant on some occasions, he would be outnumbered. 

This was one of those occasions. 

“You’ve gotten over this surprising well” He stared Samantha down, trying to get a read on her. 

But there was no need. Everything she felt was written on her face, and for once, she had no intent on hiding it. 

She was over it, motivated to not let the past repeat itself. 

“This isn’t the first time someone has tried to ruin my career by exploiting my character out of context. I’m not letting them get away with it this time”

Guenther was one of the few people who had heard Sam’s story and empathized with her, one of the many reasons he decided to give her a chance and put her under contract this season. However, that didn’t mean that he was always the most understanding when it came to her struggles on the grid so far. 

Sam could tell her team principal was trying to push her buttons; light a fire under her. And it was working.

But she didn’t need any help from Guenther. She’d been holding on to this flame for years, waiting for the perfect time to light the spark and set off the fuse. 

She leaned back in her chair, the smirk on her face betrayed her casual tone, but fell right in line with the determination leaking from her next statement. 

“I’m already going to hell, might as well drag everyone down with me on the way there”

The Netflix interview was reaching the 45-minute mark and both Sam and Mick had been thrown questions they hadn't been expecting. Guenther had stressed for them to not hold back, and to give the people something to empathize with, reminding them he'd personally step in if he was needed.

“As I said, my family has always loved the Thompsons. When my parents told me Sam would be moving to live with us, it was like me and Gina were getting another sibling. She had always been considered part of our family, but having her with us made it feel real.”

The woman turned to Sam, “And as a racer, what does it mean to you to have been raised by Michael Shcumacher?”

“Well, my parents raised me, but the Schumachers mean the world to me; not even as a racer, but as a person. They invited me into their home, encouraging me and offering guidance while I pursued my passion. I couldn’t have aksed for a better support system when I needed it most and—” her voice got caught in her throat.

She could feel tears prickling behind her eyes and took a second to collect herself; fighting the grief that had threatened to turn her inside-out time and time again. She hadn’t planned on crying during this interview and she hoped to keep it that way.

Mick reassruingly patted Sam’s knee, which didn’t go unnoticed by everyone in the room. The small gesture gave Sam the strength to continue what had already been an emotional interview.  

“My dad passed away when I was 18,” she took another deep breath, “I was in France competing in a karting tournament when I found out. I hadn’t seen him in months. I didn’t even know he was that sick. Whenever he’d call me, he told me everything was fine; that the treatment was working. I felt so guilty. But after— when I went home to be with my mom and asked her why, she said he hadn’t wanted to worry me. He didn’t want to take my concentration away from my racing because I’d been doing so well.”

A few tears escaped and she wiped them away, using the feeling of Mick’s hand on her knee to pull her back to reality. 

“My mom distanced herself after it happened, and I felt like I had nobody. But turns out I had Mick and his family. They helped me in ways I’ll never be able to repay them. They got me to pick myself up and get back on my feet. The Schumachers showed me that home isn’t the house we live in, it’s the people we surround ourselves with.”

Mick chimed in, “My dad did always said that the family we choose has the power to be the strongest love of all.” Sam wiped away the remaining few tears and rested her hand on top of Mick’s. 

She looked back to the interviewer, who sat there looking triumphant. The woman managed to construct an emotional set of questions for the interview, no doubt ones meant to tug at the viewers’ heart-strings at the expense of both she and Mick. And that look on her face told Sam that she believed she had been successful in doing just that. 

“He might be Michael Schumacher, 7-time world champion and racing legend, to you. But to me, he’s Uncle Mike, the man who taught me how to drive a go-kart and would take any opportunity to throw you in the pool.”

Sam looked to Mick, his lips pressed into a sweet smile, “He’s the man who gave me my best friend.”

The self-satisfied expression on the reporters face morphed into a sympathetic smile. “That was lovely, thank you both.”

The drivers were preparing to end the interview, seeing as they’d seemingly spoken about all the topics that could possibly relate to Mick and Sam’s friendship as initially proposed. 

But to their surprise, she kept speaking. 

Now, Sam, let's discuss a different part of your past. We’ve looked back at the petition from your 2017 contract termination,”

Of course they had

“You were 3 signatures short of having your contract reinstated, and 5 of the drivers who are on the grid with you today, though one is a reserve driver, didn’t sign it when given the chance. How does that make you feel?”

“It’s not ideal, but I’m satisfied. I mean, think about how embarrassing it must feel. They did what they could to keep me from racing— made the choice to de-rail my career, you could say— but I still ended up right where I’d been aiming for. And now every day when they look at me, when they see me get into my car, they’re reminded of the choice they made and that in a way, they were wrong. I hope it’s like their own personal hell.”

Guenther’s eyes went wide behind the camera crew. Sam said it with a smirk. The interviewer smirked right back: this is exactly what they wanted, and since this wouldn’t be released until after the 2021 season, she fully intended on giving it to them. 

“If anything, you should be asking them how they feel,” she shrugged with a small laugh. 

“We did ask Charles in specific, seeing as he was your teammate when it all went down, and he refused to comment. Any reason why you think that might’ve been the case?”

“I think he was intimidated by me then, and maybe he is now. I don’t know.” She shrugged. 

The interviewer gave her a questioning look and asked her to elaborate. 

“When you’re racing in Formula 2, all the cars are exactly the same, so when it comes to that aspect it’s a level playing field. That means it boils down to the drivers behind the wheel. But your teammate is still your biggest competition because that’s who you’re compared to most closely. As the season progressed, I was winning more points and was standing on more podiums. 

“Put yourself in Charles’ shoes, and it’s frustrating: a girl coming into a male-dominated sport and having more success than you, while you’re constantly compared to her. In a stereotypical world, he should’ve been better than me.

“When we crashed in Spain, and the media decided to make me getting angry, a result of my gender instead of the actual circumstance, I can’t help but think he saw an opportunity and leaned into it. And at the time, it turned out just how he’d hoped.”

Nodding, the interviewer looked between the two drivers sitting in front of her. 

Clearing her throat, the woman continued. The mischievous look in her eye didn’t go unnoticed which made Sam a bit nervous. 

“Now, when we interviewed those 4 drivers at the start of the season, we asked them how they felt about the 2017 incident now, nearly 5 years later. All of them said the publications about you, which led to your outburst, weren’t as you called, “sexist” or “misogynistic”, but that comments like those simply came with being famous.”

Sam caught the first inconsistency of this portion of the interview: George would never say that now, proving that Netflix really was trying to get a rise out of her. Still, she continued. 

“Well the last time I checked, none of them have a vagina, so I don’t think they get to decide that, do they?” Sam said surely. 

The whole studio went silent for a moment, and then there was laughter. From Mick, the camera crew, the interviewer, and finally from Sam. 

“I think we’re done for today,” Guenther said as he walked out from behind the camera. 

Sam looked over at Mick, who had been forced to sit through the last part of that interview as an innocent bystander. He was grinning widely as he stood from his seat, “let’s get out of here. I think they’ve got enough of our narratives to twist for one day.”

And there goes Sam Thompson rounding Copse Corner, Daniel Ricciardo is not far behind her. 

The battle between these to has been relentless, like one big game of tag!

The HAAS started in 7th place, sandwiched right between the McLarens. Like we’ve seen before this season, she was behind both of them a bit further into the race, when McLaren asked Daniel to let his teammate by and defend!

That’s when the real racing between these two started, and it’s been unforgiving!

George Russell has been putting up a great fight this race as well, but he can’t keep up with Thompson and Ricciardo who have been finding their pace and catching up with Lando Norris. 

That’s right. We’ve seen some especially great battles between number 3 and number 66. Here’s the difference though, Sam is doing exceptionally well for her rookie year, driving a car that finished 9th in the constructor’s championship last year, far better than we’d expected. While Daniel has been struggling to get used to the car that finished 3rd that same year. 

Right now, Ricciardo is just out of DRS range of the HAAS, He’s doing great this race, and—

Look at that! He’s closing the gap quickly! I think he might be able to overtake on the outside— And he does!

Daniel Ricciardo overtakes Samantha Thompson and closes nearly a two-second gap like it was nothing!

That was far too easy for him David, I think something may be wrong with Samantha’s car— it wouldn’t be the first time this season. 

Yep, and there it, she’s slowing down. Russell passes. Vettel passes. Sainz passes, but Sam’s still kicking, her foot is still on that throttle. After a string of unlucky races, she wants this, and you can tell. 

Let’s have a listen. 

“Sam-”

“Don’t you dare say what I think you’re about to say, Floyd”

“Stop the-”

“If you’re going to tell me I’m not going to be finishing this race, you’re not getting a birthday present, Floyd. And I’m a great gift giver!”

There’s the Sam we all love, deflecting to jokes to try and ease the tension. But you can just hear the desperation in her voice. 

“I’m sorry Sam. Stop the car.”

“[bleep] this is a [bleep] joke. [bleep] [bleep] [bleep]”

Oh my. And that ends another race for the Hell Raiser. That’s mighty unfortunate. 

If she wouldn't have had all these DNFs, Sam may very well have been in contention for a top 5 finish in this championship, maybe even best of the rest. 

That’s true. It’s a pity to see yet another race go to waste from such a talented driver. She has so much potential, and it’s important for her to be driving well in these races to show other teams what she’d capable of. 

After all, she’s only contracted with HAAS for the 2021 season. 

Sam sauntered into the lobby of her hotel, her body weighing heavy with the annoyance of not completing another race. Since they’d gone to the track together, George had dropped her off after the race so she could get ready to meet with his family and some of their other friends for dinner.

As she was making her way across the room, Sam recognized Daniel talking to someone across from the elevators. But it was who he was speaking with that really caught her attention. 

She stopped a few yards from the pair and nearly gasped. “Is that Formula 3 race winner Jack Doohan?” 

At the sound of his name, Jack turned around to face Sam. His tentative look immediately transformed into a grin as he recognized the girl. 

“Well if it isn’t Sam I Am!” He said excitedly, opening his arms and inviting her in for an embrace. 

Sam dropped her bags and shrieked with laughter as she ran towards the boy. She hurled herself at him and captured him in a hug. He spun her around a few times as she hugged him tighter. 

She pulled her head out from between his neck and his shoulder and looked at him, “Oh my god, congratulations! Your first race win! I’m so proud of you!” Sam was so elated, she was nearly shouting and people were definitely staring at them. 

Their smiles never faltered as he placed her back on the ground. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the podium to see you, but Mick said you looked mighty comfortable on that top step.” She patted his arm playfully as a shy blush crept onto his cheeks. 

“Yeah, well it’s something I could get used to, that’s for sure.” Sam could feel the accomplishment dripping from the 18-year-old driver, which only made her smile even wider. 

“I had no idea you were staying in this hotel,” Sam added.

Jack shook his head. “I’m not, I just got back from dinner with Daniel,” He gestured to the other Australian driver standing a few feet from them. 

Sam turned to Daniel and gave him a fake smile, which was returned before she turned back toward her long-time friend. 

“What are your plans for the break? You should come to the ranch with me and Mick for a bit!” She said excitedly, grabbing his shoulders and giving him a shake. 

He laughed, “Oh yeah? What dates?”

She finally stopped shaking him once he’d shown interest, something she used to bug him by doing when he was a kid.  “Not till later in the break. I’m headed back to Colorado for a few days before making my way down there, but Mick knows the exact dates so I’d ask him if I were you”

Jack nodded. “Sure will. Look, I gotta get going. It was great to see you, Sam. Thanks for tonight, Danny. It was great to see you too!” He gave the drivers a wave before walking out towards the valet. 

“You got an Aussie fetish or something? Can’t get to me so you’ve moved on to Jack? Who’s next, Piastri?”

“What, so you’ve staked your claim on the whole continent of Australia and all it’s inhabitants? What’s your problem? And newsflash, I’ve known Jack since he was a kid,” Sam defended, folding her arms across her chest. 

He rolled his eyes. “Just another perk of being raised as an honorary Schumacher, I’m guessing?”

Daniel laughed off his comment casually, but Sam couldn’t find the words to respond. Why was he bringing it up like it was a bad thing? 

He was so unbothered that he took a candy bar out of his back pocket and opened it, taking a few bites as he waited for Sam to respond. 

She was just starting there angrily, so Daniel decided it was an opening to keep going. 

“Saw your mom in Monaco, but I haven’t seen your dad at a race yet. Is that where all this anger comes from? Daddy issues? Hmm? Did he not take being replaced by a 7-time formula one world champion well? Those are tough stats to beat.” He said the words with downright venom. 

Sam’s heart stopped. That night in Portugal, she’d opened up to Daniel and told him a little about her time with the Schumachers. But she hadn’t told him enough about her life for him to be making a judgment like this. She felt betrayed. 

He stood there looking at her with a malicious grin on his face, before letting out a strained cough.  

Who was this, and what happened to the Daniel she went to dinner with? The Daniel who pretended to be a reporter just to ask for her number. The Daniel who laughed it off when she accidentally spit wine in his face. 

What did she ever do to him to deserve these words from him?

How dare he bring up her dad. How dare he bring up Michael to her, and assume such things about her family. He knew nothing about Sam, but like everyone else, he must have assumed whatever he’d read about her in the media was all there was to her. 

Rage bubbled in her chest. Tears were fighting their way out. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to cry. She could feel herself losing control of her emotions, but the last thing she wanted to prove to Daniel was that he had gotten a rise out of her. 

So all she could bring herself to do was let out a pathetic laugh, hoping to shove down everything. She swallowed, and steadied her breathing, willing her voice to not betray her as she spoke. 

“No, it’s actually because he’s dead. But good guess though,” she deadpanned, hoping he couldn’t see past her tough facade to hear the shaking of her voice she was fighting to subdue. 

His eyes went wide momentarily, his hand rubbing and scratching at his neck. He tried to talk, but as he inhaled, he coughed again and then seemed preoccupied with something else despite having deeply offended Sam only a few seconds ago. 

Daniel frantically looked at the empty wrapper of the candy bar in his hand. He coughed again, this time with more force, before shoving the trash toward Sam. 

As if the last conversation hadn’t even happened, he uttered, “You know French— are there nuts in there?”

She just stared at him, confused at what was going on, and not any less offended. Sam was furious with him; the last thing she wanted to do was help him. 

“Sam read the damn ingredients!” He tried to yell, but it came out hysteric and was cut short by a painful-sounding cough. 

She was taken aback by the stress in his tone and looked down at the wrapper. “Almonds are the second ingredient,” she stated, still confused as to why he needed to know. 

Daniel couldn’t control his coughing anymore. He dropped down to his knees and tried to try and open up his airways to catch his breath. Sam could see how desperate he was to breathe. Something wasn’t right. 

“What the hell is going on Daniel?”

He didn’t respond. His wheezing was growing louder and louder. Sam didn't know what to do. She watched as he tried to get up, but his knees gave out. She lurched over and caught him before he hit the ground, looking at him as his face began to get splotchy and red. 

“Okay, this isn’t funny you’re starting to freak me out!” Sam was starting to panic. 

Daniel’s breathing was even more erratic than a few seconds ago. Through coughs and wheezes, Daniel managed to croak out, “My EpiPen-”

“Oh my god, okay, you’re not joking.” She carefully bent down and set him gently so he was seated on the floor before crouching down in front of him. 

“No shit” He wheezed out while gesturing to himself, still trying to find a way to move oxygen into his struggling lungs. At this point, Sam was panicking more than Daniel. She grabbed his shoulders, trying to calm him down so she could figure out how to help.

“Really? You’re going into anaphylactic shock and you’re still finding it in you to patronize me?” He silently glared at her knowing she was right, his chest still moving up and down irregularly. “Just shut up and tell me where the EpiPen is!”

At this point, a few people had stopped what they were doing to look at the scene of the frantic woman and the wheezing man unfolding before their eyes. 

“Backpack. Front desk. Luggage check.” 

Without a second thought, Sam sprinted past the crowds of people in the lobby and cut an entire line of people waiting to speak with the woman at the front desk. 

“There’s a backpack in the luggage check under the last name Ricciardo. I need it. It’s an emergency,” she huffed out. 

The woman didn’t move. Sam was getting frustrated. 

She waited another few seconds until she finally said louder, “What don’t you understand about an emergency?” She emphasized the last word, trying to make it clear there wasn’t time to waste. 

Nothing from the woman. 

“Unless you want a dead Formula 1 driver in your lobby I suggest you get me that backpack,” Sam scolded aggravated. 

Still nothing from the woman except a look that wordlessly called Sam a lunatic. 

“Please!” Sam yelled with urgency, finally causing the woman to go back into storage. 

The entire minute she was gone felt like hours, and the groaning of the people in line behind her didn’t help. She apologized to them but kept turning around and checking on Daniel, making sure his chest was still rising and falling from across the room, albeit if it was still doing so far too quickly for comfort. 

After what felt like ages, the woman returned with the bag, holding it up so Sam could see it. 

“You’re Daniel?” The woman looked at her suspiciously. “I’m gonna need some identification if—”

With her quick reflexes, Sam reached over the counter and snatched the bag from the woman’s hands. 

Ignoring the protests from the other side of the desk and the gasps from the guests behind her, Sam dropped down to the floor directly where she had been standing, wasting no time ripping it open and digging through its contents. Finally, at the bottom of the backpack, she found the box containing the EpiPen and started running back to the other end of the lobby where she’d left Daniel. 

As Sam made her way across the building, she wasted no time opening the box and pulling out the device. Once she made it, she shoved past the crowd of a few people who had stopped to try and help that was now surrounding Daniel and fell to her knees next to him. In what seemed like record time, she tore the cap off and looked at him. 

“How do I-”

“Blue sky, Orange thigh” he croaked out with another cough, eyes closed as he leaned against the wall behind him for support, weakly pointing at the side of his thigh. 

She looked at him with panic written across her features. His eyes and his lips were starting to get red and swollen. Sam knew it was now or never. 

“How long do I hold it?” Her voice came out loud and demanding, but the quiver in her tone was evident. Though she had direction, she was lacking confidence. 

“I’ll say when,” Daniel whispered with what dwindling energy he had left and opened his eyes to look at Sam before he nodded reassuringly. 

And with that, she inhaled and held her breath, jabbing the side of his thigh with the EpiPen. Daniel immediately felt the relief it offered, putting his hand over hers and making sure she didn’t remove the needle prematurely. 

After the required time, Daniel pulled Sam’s hand and the EpiPen away from his thigh. He still looked worse for wear, but with the epinephrin coursing through his veins, his airways were starting to open back up

Sam sat there just looking at Daniel, finally attempting to process what had just happened. He tried to stand, but faltered back into the wall he was resting against. 

“We need to get you to a hospital,” Sam said, helping him to his feet. 

Daniel shook his head, “I’ll call a car to take me.”

“I’ll call Michael to come and take you,” she countered. 

Again, Daniel shook his head. “He’s out of reach until tonight. Besides, I need to go as soon as possible. The EpiPen doesn't solve the anaphylaxis, it just puts it off long enough for me to get to a hospital.”

Sam nodded comprehending what Daniel was saying. “Fine, I’ll take you.”

He shook his head. 

Sam scoffed and rolled her eyes. 

“You almost died. You don’t get to be picky about how you get to the hospital,” Daniel did his best not to roll his eyes at the return of her sass, seeing as she just saved his life and all. 

She hoisted Daniel’s arm up over her shoulders and walked out to the valet. After yelling at the innocent attendant, pointing at Daniel, who looked very worse for wear, and emphasizing how she needed her car immediately, the man sprinted out and came back with her Mercedes in what felt like record time. 

Soon the two were in the car on the way to the hospital. Sam was breaking speed limits left and right trying to get there before Dan’s condition worsened. He sat there, eyes still slightly swollen, skin splotchy, and breathing heavily with his head resting back against the seat. 

They didn’t say a word to each other. Music played quietly to fill the silence. Neither of the drivers had been able to be amicable with one another since Portugal, let alone have a full, civil conversation with the other, and now they were stuck in a car together for who knows how long. So yeah, it was awkward. 

After 35 minutes, Sam pulled into the driveway out front of the emergency room. Towards the 20-minute mark, Daniel had started coughing much more, his skin getting redder and splotchier, and his eyes were getting swollen again. Now, he was almost in the same state he was back at the hotel, which caused Sam to begin to panic again. 

She left the car in park, and she knew Daniel was feeling much worse than she’d expected when he hadn’t tried to get out of the car, remaining resting against the seat with his eyes closed. Sam made it inside and alerted a nurse, leading them back to her car with a wheelchair in tow. 

Once they'd gotten him out of the car, they headed inside. After being recognized almost immediately after entering the building, Sam politely asked if they could put Daniel in one of their more private rooms. 

The nurses kindly agreed and took the two drivers back. Daniel was barely conscious as they hoisted him up into the bed. 

Sam sat quietly in the corner of the room as they worked away at him, sticking an iv in his arm and an oxygen tube under his nose. Once he the nurses were done, they reassured Sam he would most likely be asleep for a bit due to the antihistamines and then handed Sam a clipboard full of paperwork to fill out on behalf of Daniel. Even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to fill most of it out, she took it with a smile, thanking the nurses for their help. 

As they’d said, Daniel slept for a little over an hour before he woke up. 

Sam had filled her time scrolling through messages from her friends and family she’d gotten after the race. Not to mention she had to text George that she would be pretty late for dinner with his family and friends. She also managed to get in contact with Michael which she had Paula to thank for, seeing as she was able to get in touch with Lando’s press officer Charlotte who had it. 

Once Daniel was finally aware of his surroundings, he turned to the corner of the room where Sam sat with her head resting on her hand, asleep. He looked at her for a moment, not wanting to wake her up. 

He had finally seen the Sam he had gotten to know that night in Portugal again today, even if it took him almost dying for it to happen. Daniel knew he was lucky Sam had decided to help him and to the extent that she did, especially after he’d made the comment about her dad. 

Like she could feel his eyes on her, Sam lifted her head from her hands, her eyes still heavy with sleep. 

“I’m shocked you’re still here,” he croaked out with his sore throat. 

Sam sat up straight, “I’m not gonna leave you alone in a random hospital in the UK after you nearly died.”

There was a lull in the conversation. It was awkward, as if they were trying to ignore what had just happened and felt the need to go back to hating each other. 

“Thanks, by the way,” Daniel added into the silence. 

“Don’t act so surprised. I might not like you very much, but I’m not gonna sit there and let you die on me, Ricciardo. Besides, I don’t need the media twisting that situation too. Next thing you know there would be headlines saying how I killed everyone’s favorite honey badger.”

He tried to laugh a little bit, but his throat was still too tender. 

The awkward tension returned. 

“You didn’t have to though. Not after I said those awful things about your family, about your dad. I’m so sorry, Sam. I had no idea.”

She pretended the genuine consolation in his voice didn’t throw her for a loop. 

Sam fidgeted with her fingers, avoiding looking at the driver. What had happened tonight had scared her more than she cared to admit. Yes, she was still angry, but seeing Daniel almost die put things between them into perspective.

“I’m not gonna act like it wasn’t a shitty thing to say, but there's no way you could've known.”

“I know, but that doesn’t give me the right. I overstepped. And I’m sorry,” Sam finally looked at Daniel, who was looking at her with something in his eyes she couldn't quite pinpoint— though she guessed that a bit of guilt may have been part of it. 

They were looking at each other for a moment before Dan started again, “Do you think we could talk about what’s been going on between—”

But it was at that moment that Michael Italiano decided to burst through the door, interrupting the conversation that was about to go on. 

“Jesus Christ Danny! I leave you for 6 hours and you end up nearly dead in a hotel lobby?” He walked up to the side of the bed, oblivious to what he’d just interrupted. Both drivers had dropped the topic and were now focused on what Michael had just said. 

“How do you know it happened in the lobby?” Sam asked. She hadn't told him the details of what happened, only that Daniel had been admitted to the hospital for going into anaphylactic shock. 

“There are a few pictures of the incident, and a somewhat blurry video of you stabbing him with his EpiPen. It’s pretty badass.” He turned back to his friend, leaving Sam to stress about another story involving her. 

So much for staying out of the media. 

“What even happened?” Michael questioned. 

“Someone on the hospitality left a bowl of these out and I grabbed one for later. Everything is written in french so I couldn't read the ingredients, but I assumed that everyone had been working with me long enough to know about my severe nut allergy.” Daniel shrugged from the bed. 

“Luckily Sam was there,” he tilted his head gesturing to the girl who was now standing by the door. She offered the two men a weak smile. 

“Glad I could help. But I really should get going.” Sam handed the clipboard of paperwork to Michael and headed for the door. 

Before she could leave, Michael grabbed her attention. 

“Thank you, Sam. He owes you one,” he said with an appreciative grin as Dan sat there looking at her in gratitude as well. She turned back towards the men and smiled, giving a curt nod before walking out the door. 

“I thought she hated you,” Michael asked Daniel once Sam was gone. 

Daniel’s gaze remained on the door Sam had left through, deep in thought. 

“I thought so too.”

“This is exactly the good press you needed right now,” the voice of her team principal echoed out of the speakers of her phone. 

Sam let out a huff of disbelief at the lack of sympathy apparent. “Good press? He almost died, Guenther”

“Yes, well. Wrong place at the wrong time,” she could just imagine the man shrugging. 

“I would actually say it was probably the right place at the right time. If I hadn’t been there—”

“But you were. And now, nobody is going to be talking about Monaco once they all see the video of you using the EpiPen.”

She groaned getting frustrated. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Well, what are you worried about then? Daniel?”

Sam couldn’t respond because she didn’t have an answer to his question, but Guenther took her silence as the only answer he needed. 

“Really? You’ve had nothing nice to say about Daniel for months and suddenly you’re worried about him? He’s fine, Samantha. You got him to the hospital in time. He’s already put out a statement saying he’s going to make a full recovery.”

“I know, but—”

“No buts. You only have 2 strikes left. You need to focus on keeping the media on your side, which will in turn hopefully keep the FIA in your favor.”

As each week passes since Monaco, she felt more and more like she was being babysat by her team. Everyone was walking on eggshells around her, preparing for when she would fuck up next. It’s like they had no hope she would manage to keep out of trouble.

They had taken a chance on her driving, but why couldn’t they put that same amount of trust into her off the track?

“Got it. Just shut up and race. Maybe I’ll trip Mick so he falls in front of a bus and then I can push him out of the way just in time. Let’s just hope someone catches the whole thing on video,” she was struggling to hold her tongue anymore. 

“That would never work. They would see you trip him too,” sometimes he didn’t know when to catch a hint. 

“I’m hanging up now, Guenther,” Sam murmured in annoyance. 

“I’ll see you in Budapest,” he added.

With that, Sam clicked the red button and ended her phone call. She sat back in the chair which was outside in the Russell’s garden.

Once George had seen the posts about what happened, he immediately told Sam to not worry about making it to dinner that night, but seeing as Mick went home to visit his family and Molly was spending time in the city with her own family that had flown down for the race, Sam didn’t see the harm in going. 

As she leaned her head back, Sam let out a huff in frustration. 

For a few minutes, she sat in the dark silence, the only noise being the chatter of friends inside muffled behind a door while a single porch light made sure she wasn’t consumed by the darkness of the late hours. 

Her mind replayed the day over and over again. The race. The DNF. Dan’s comment. His allergic reaction. The sincerity on his face at the hospital. 

Every time she thought of a different part of the day, the emotions came flooding back.

Rage, fear, helplessness, confusion. They all felt as real as they did in the moment they’d actually happened. If she didn’t snap out of it soon enough, she was sure they’d consume her. 

After a while, she heard the back door open. Sam didn’t move from her position, resting exhaustedly, eyes still closed. 

George knocked on the open door, “how’d it go?”

Sam finally opened her eyes, sitting up to look at her friend standing in the doorway. 

“As good as a conversation with Guenther about our team’s image could go,” she huffed. 

George closed the door behind him and sat down in the chair next to her. 

“I don’t know Guenther well, but I’m assuming that means it wasn’t great?”

Sam shook her head. “He’s so concerned about my image after Monaco, and how it could possibly affect the team, that he can’t even think about what actually happened to Daniel today.”

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he trailed off into the silence of the night.

“I found out on Thursday that none of our sponsors pulled out of their deals even after everything went down,” Sam added out of nowhere. 

“Well that's great, isn't it?” George asked confusedly, seeing as Sam was saying it like it was bad. 

She nodded. “It is, but everyone is still acting like those pictures are the end of the world. I’m already past it, while everyone else is still obsessed over any more potential fallout. And they weren't even the ones who were humiliated.”

Groaning, she dropped her head into her hands, staring at the ground. It worried George. He could tell something else was bothering her.

“Seems like you’re still pretty shaken up about what happened,” he said.

She nodded. “I was terrified. Everything was happening so fast and I wasn’t even the one going into anaphylaxis. It’s just— I should hate him, right?. He’s said horrible things about me, my career, my dad. I should have left him there. A part of me wanted to. But I couldn’t. I don’t know why.”

“Because you’re a good person. I know you. You might’ve earned the nickname Hell Raiser for being ruthless and unforgiving on the outside, but inside,” he playfully poked her chest, “you’re one of the most caring people I’ve ever met. You couldn’t have left him by himself if you tried.”

“Thanks, George,” Sam whispered as a single tear fell down her face. He pulled her into his side and she rested her head on his shoulder.

George nodded, giving Sam a wordless response. He could tell Sam had more to say. Something was eating at her.

But he wasn’t going to pressure her to talk. If she wanted to sit in silence, he’d sit in silence with her. If she wanted to vent to him for hours, he’d sit there and listen. It was moments like these he was simply glad to have his friend back. 

After a few minutes, Sam sat up sniffling and wiped her nose with her sleeve. “I’m gonna head back. I have an early flight tomorrow and I think I need to call Molly. I’m sorry I was out of it all night. Tell your parents I said thank you.”

She squeezed his arm and they stood up. He gave her a hug before the two said their goodbyes and Sam was headed back to her hotel for the night. 

2 WEEKS LATER— AUGUST 2ND, THE MONDAY AFTER THE HUNGARIAN GRAND PRIX

“I’m coming, relax!” Molly sauntered over to the door of her hotel room, which was being incessantly knocked upon by whoever stood behind it. 

“It’s 4 o’clock in the morning what is— Sam?”

She was met with the sight of her best friend stood in the hallway, barefoot, still in her dress and makeup from the club the night before, looking like she’d just seen a ghost. 

Sam didn’t move despite the door having opened. Molly grabbed her hand and dragged her inside. “What’s going on, and why did it warrant banging on my door at 4 in the morning?”

“Something happened,” Sam said vaguely. 

That woke Molly up immediately. 

“Please don’t tell me it’s bad enough to earn you another strike…” There was no joking tone in her voice anymore. She was worried. Not only for her friend’s sake but because Guenther had just stopped breathing down their necks and she didn’t need that to start back up again. 

“Worse”

“Oh shit,” Molly groaned bringing her hand up to her face.

“Sit down and tell me everything.” Sam sat on the couch and watched as her best friend walked over to the suite’s kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked confused.

“To get coffee,” she replied sleepily. “Or vodka. Maybe both. I don’t know what I’m about to get myself into.”

i love this chapter but i hate how it turned out lol. Also, this is so so so so unedited because I hate reading what I write so odds are there are tons of mistakes oops.

Y’all better reblog this. I put off studying for my physiology midterm to write this. Make it worth it

big smooches to @lightsoutsainz and @loverboysainz (both my carlos girlies ig) for helping me through this behemoth of a chapter and keeping me in check so I don't put out stupid stuff.

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