🏎🏎

It had been three weeks since I had last seen Dakota.

I spent the entire summer break in Italy with my family. They were all so excited that I had come to visit, it made me feel so much better.

I never realized how much I missed my family and my hometown.

The kids at the racetrack where I used to go karting were amazed to see me. They stared at me in awe as I signed their F1 merchandise.

But I would be lying if I said I wasn't itching to see Dakota again.

I didn't want anything to do with her.

No strings attached.

But with Dakota, that seemed impossible.

She was like a magnet. I couldn't stay away. But it was for the best. I couldn't afford to get distracted.

I still had no seat for the next season. My contract for McLaren only lasted for a year, the 2021 season.

2022 was up in the air.

I wanted to stay with McLaren.

Since my early teenage years, I lived and breathed McLaren.

I started off as an academy driver for the team and had never thought of switching teams. But now, I had a feeling that was going to change.

And I had my eyes set on one team and one team only.

Ferrari.

"Morning, you're here early," Zak greeted as I scanned my pass into the paddock.

"Yeah, figured I'd beat the traffic. It's raining like crazy."

"Yeah, I have a feeling we might have a delayed start."

I frowned, looking out the garage again at the track.

There were large puddles everywhere and the rain had no end in sight.

"Really? They rarely do that."

"I just overheard some of the FIA guys chatting about it," Zak shrugged.

I zipped up my jacket, wandering out into the pits towards the FIA garage.

My heart beat picked up when I saw her long ponytail swinging back and forth as she cleaned the hood of her car.

"Don't," a voice spoke, making me turn.

Lando gave me a firm look, shaking his head.

I glanced back at her, taking in her smaller figure in the crowd of taller men.

She was dressed in a big oversized rain coat, a hoodie peaking out from under. A pair of waterproof boots on her feet came up to her ankles. A beanie covered her head, strands of brown hair peeking out from under.

"What?" I asked, glaring at my team mate.

"I know what you're trying to do. Go find someone else to toy with. Dakota doesn't deserve that."

"Too late," I muttered under my breath.

I regretted everything I had said that night.

But I couldn't take it back. It was too late.

In all honesty, it was better that she hated me. In fact, it gave me peace of mind knowing she was off limits, far out of my reach.

Her eyes met mine and I was too slow to look away.

I held her gaze for what felt like minutes until someone passed in front of me, blocking my view.

When my view cleared, she was gone.

I spotted Mark getting into his racing suit and decided to make my way over to him.

"What's the forecast looking like?" I asked, my hands shoved deep into my jacket pockets.

"Looks like the rain's going to keep coming," Mark replied, glancing out at the track.

"Are we delaying or starting?"

"As of now, continue as planned. Race Control hasn't said anything. As long as visibility is ok, it should be green flag."

I hummed in response, nodding my head.

Dakota entered the garage once again, her jacket now dripping with rainwater.

Her boots and jeans were now gone, replaced with racing shoes and her suit.

She froze when she spotted me, her eyes narrowing.

"Did you need something?" she asked, standing next to Mark.

My eyes zeroed in on the name stitched over the right side of the clothing item.

It was Mark's.

My jaw clenched at the thought of her wearing another mans jacket.

But that was pathetic. I had no right to feel that way, but I couldn't help it.

"Just checking the status of the session."

"Green flags as of now," she replied shortly, removing her jacket.

She shivered, zipping up her racing suit.

"How was y-"

"Now if you'll excuse us, we have to do some laps around the track to asses the conditions," she interrupted, brushing past me.

She smelled like roses, her signature scent.

Mark followed after her, stopping under the overhang to look at the sky.

"Holy shit, those clouds are really pissing today."

"We all know it's your fault, Mark," Dakota rolled her eyes playfully.

"Yeah, yeah, fuck off," he grumbled, giving her the finger.

"Alessandro!" a voice shouted.

I quickly ran back to the garage to find a very annoyed Aaron standing outside my door.

"Sorry, went next door to see if Qualifying was going to continue."

"Right. You're running the track after the rain stops."

"No, please! Anything but running the track," I groaned dramatically, making Aaron crack a smile.

He helped me through my warm ups and got me ready for Qualifying.

I frowned, watching Dakota drive out onto the track.

It seemed like it was raining even harder and I was worried as she went speeding towards Radillon and Eau Rouge.

"Man, how are you driving? I can't see shit."

"Neither can I," I muttered, breaking at the last minute when I spotted the kerbs appear from the fog.

"Are they going to drive in these conditions?" Mark asked, staring at the track. One of his hands rested on the dashboard while the other gripped the handle above the window.

"No, it's too dangerous. Call it in."

Mark pressed the button that opened the radio channel with Race Control as I spoke into the mic.

D>"Red Flag, unsafe weather conditions."

RC>"Copy, we're checking the weather patterns. Would you mind going full throttle to check the grip on track?"

D>"Copy."

I shared a look with Mark as he turned off the radio.

"Check the track conditions? It's fucking wet, what else?"

"Beats me," I shrugged.

I could feel the car sliding around every time I pressed on the breaks. There was barely any grip on the track and it was definitely not safe to drive.

D>"Red flag the session. There's no way it's safe to drive. Barely any visibility."

RC>"Copy. It looks like the rain will stop in a few so we have decided to continue the session."

Mark and I looked at each other in alarm.

D>"That's not a good idea. There's barely any traction. Lot's of hydroplaning."

RC>"We will keep that in mind. If conditions worsen, we will red flag."

An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach.

This track was dangerous, even more so when it was raining. Nobody wanted a repeat of 2019. It was better to be safe than sorry, but Race Control had other ideas.

There was barely any visibility, let alone proper grip to keep the cars on track. The potential to go flying off the track was very much present.

As I pulled into the pitlane, I spotted an orange McLaren sped out of the exit.

C>"There's a lot of standing water on the track where drivers lose grip and theres potential to go off into the barriers."

My heart raced as I craned my neck, desperate to see which McLaren was out on track.

"Is that Norris?" Mark asked, looking at the screens as well.

"Not sure, I can barely see the car itself."

"Whoever it is is going way too damn fast for the conditions. He needs to slow down."

C>"Lando Norris will have to stay out there until Race Control makes a decision on whether they will Red Flag the session or not."

My eyes widened as the camera followed the papaya car up the incline before it disappeared behind some trees.

"Fuck, did he come around the corner?"

"Shit, I can't tell."

The camera panned out and I held my breath waiting for the car to reappear.

But it didn't.

M>"Did the McLaren go around?"

C>" Yes it did! Yes it did! That's Lando Norris!"

I could hear the gasps from the McLaren garage.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. I knew it! They should've fucking red flagged it!"

"Is he moving?" Mark asked, both of us staring at the screens.

I tuned into the McLaren radio channel.

C>" Lando Norris has had a big off! And you can see the tire stranded there, you can see the chassis of the car spinning in circles. And Lando is moving.

E>"Lando, are you ok? Are you ok?"

L>"Yeah, fuck. Sorry guys."

We could hear Sebastian Vettel on the radio as well, clearly fuming at the incident. Like us, he too was upset that the red flag hadn't been waved.

Despite the crash, Q3 still continued.

"Jesus Christ, is he okay?" I asked race control.

"Yes, he's being transported to the hospital. Don't worry about him."

I held back from screaming at him.

"Oi, look at Russel. He's on a flyer," Mark pointed out.

Sure enough, George had just done two purple sectors, lapping even faster than Hamilton.

He crossed the line in P1.

"Imagine if that P1 sticks."

"George Russel on pole sounds nice."

The two of us watched in silence, still shaken by the horrific crash.

"Wait, he's still P1. I think he might manage to keep it."

Just as Mark said that, Verstappen topped the timing chart, stealing the P1 spot.

C>"RedBull will be celebrating that pole position! And so will George Russel because he will be starting on the front row in Spa!"

Adrenaline was rushing through me from the intense qualifying session. My legs felt like jelly as I got out of the car, heading straight for the McLaren garage.

I spotted Alessandro standing by the screens, a grim look on his face. Without a second thought, I approached him.

"Lando. Is Lando ok?"

"He's okay, shaken up, but he's okay. He's still being checked out by the doctor."

"Have you spoken to him?" I asked, cracking my knuckles anxiously.

"Yeah, I've been texting him," he replied, showing me his phone. "I can drive us to the hospital, if you'd like."

"Thank you, I'll be quick," I said, rushing off to my motorhome to get dressed.

"Mark do you mind checking out for m-"

"Of course, you go ahead. Let me know how he's doing."

I sent him a grateful look, rushing out of the paddock.

Alessandro's red Mercedes rental was waiting right by the exit.

A crowd of fans were already lining barriers by the exit, along with a few media personnel.

As soon as my seatbelt clicked, I was pushed back against the seat as he accelerated out of the parking lot.

I could hear the fans cheering, a few waving as we drove passed.

My eyes flickered over to Alessandro, who absentmindedly waved to them out of politeness. He didn't stop to sign anything, wanting to get to the hospital to see his teammate.

It was a short 5 minute drive that lapsed in complete silent.

I didn't say a word, constantly checking twitter for any updates.

Many people were congratulating George on his front row start while others were ranting about the FIA's lack of safety standards.

Apparently my radio had been broadcast live, letting everyone know my stance on Red Flagging the race.

"Which room is Lando Norris in?" Alessandro asked the receptionist, his foot tapping impatiently.

I stood beside him, wrapping arms around my waist as a cold blast from the AC hit me.

"What is the relationship to Mr. Norris?" she asked, not even looking up from her notebook.

Alessandro made a sound of confusion that made her look up, raising a brow.

"Family only, what's your relationship to him?"

"I'm his brother."

She squinted at him, assessing him for a moment before she nodded.

Then, she looked at me.

Shit.

"And you?"

"His girlfriend," I blurted, giving her a sweet smile.

I felt Alessandro turn to look at me, his body shifting beside me.

"Room 208. Take the elevator up to the second floor and make a right."

"Thanks," I muttered, walking to the elevator.

I swallowed thickly, suddenly confined in the small space with Alessandro right next to me.

I could smell his cologne, mingled with the sweet smell of racing fuel.

I dared to glance over at him, his jaw ticking - something he did when he was agitated.

Wonder what pissed him off this time.

He stepped out of the elevator, taking long strides to Lando's room.

At least he had the decency to hold the door open for me.

"Hey man. I don't if you know this but let's save the shunting for sim racing next time, yeah?"

"Would you look at that," Lando grinned, his eyes lighting up when he saw Alessandro walk through the door. "Dakota too? Did I die and get sent to heaven?"

I laughed at his teasing, shaking my head as I took a seat in one of the plastic chairs.

"You could say that because Dakota's now your girlfriend," Alessandro smirked, making Lando raise his brows in surprise.

"Oh please, I could've said I was your mother and that woman would've believed me," I rolled my eyes.

"So, when's our next date?" Lando asked, wiggling his brows.

"Next? Mate, when was the first one?" I joked.

He let out a laugh as a knock sounded at the door.

"Well Mr. Norris, you're free to go. Make sure you rest your arm and try not to jostle it around too much. You can remove the splint tomorrow morning," the doctor spoke, scanning his clipboard.

Lando opened his mouth to speak but the doctor beat him to it.

"And yes, you're cleared to race tomorrow."

"Fuck yeah! Oh, sorry," he mumbled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Let's get you home Norris," Alessandro said, patting his shoulder.

"Are you sure you're feeling ok?" I asked as we exited the elevator.

"Yeah, just a bit sore. I was just in shock at the initial impact. It was stupid of me to go that fast when it was raining."

"I have to agree with you on that. Risk assessment, Lando. Risk assessment," I said.

"Right," he grimaced, looking down at his feet. "What place am I starting?"

"P10. But hey, tomorrows a new day. You never know what's going to happen."

"She's right," Alessandro spoke up, making me look up. My eyes met his as he pushed open the door.

"Russel's starting on the front row."

"What?" Lando exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Yeah, beat Hamilton for P2."

"That fucker," he grinned, clearly happy for his friend.

"Dakota, are you going back to the hotel?" Lando asked, tilting his head.

"I have some work to finish at the track. My Uber's here, don't worry," I smiled, pointing to a black car that pulled up to the curb.

Alessandro opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

"Bye, guys. See you tomorrow," I waved, turning to walk away from them.

I smiled to myself when I caught the Alessandro's flat expression.

Dakota 1 - Alessandro 0