A girl chasing her dream. A boy looking for the light.
When Florence Nyx started her internship at a Formula 1 paddock, she expected a lot. Fast cars. Exclusive impressions most people could only dream of. An entire array of skills she'd acquire...
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This following race weekend had basically slipped through my fingers. The amount of time I'd spent socializing, connecting, trying to get into good graces with those who mattered, exhausted the fuck out of me.
I felt like Formula 1's very own hooker, hired to please those who only wanted me for their amusement or personal gain.
By the time the start had rolled around, I was more than happy to disappear into the driver's room, watching the race in silence rather than staying out in the garage. I knew Salim wouldn't like me being here, given he preferred me staying close to Florence where others would see it, but I honestly didn't give a damn.
Somehow, I wasn't even sure if the plan we came up with was going to work. I'd noticed a tension between Florence and Connor over the weekend, but Connor just shrugged me off when I asked what was going on. Asking Florence was not an option, given I'd avoided her since our run-in at the hotel. Something about our encounter triggered me, although I couldn't tell what it was. Maybe it was the fact that she seemed almost infatuated by me, or maybe it was just that she was going out on a date on a work day when she always announced how professional she was.
Whatever it was, it caused me to keep my distance, and I didn't mind. Something about that woman irked me anyway, and I had no interest in discovering what it was.
The vibration in my pocket distracted me from the race that was about to end — not looking good for our team, unfortunately —, and I felt my heart stop when I glanced at the screen.
My mom.
Just a few months ago, seeing her name would've made me smile harder than I could, but right now it was just a blaring reminder that she pushed me into a position I had no interest being in.
"Hey, Ma." I picked up the phone with a whisper, not needing anyone to hear the conversation I was about to have.
"Hi, sweetheart." Her familiar tone made me close my eyes for a moment. I could basically hear the strain in her voice — she always hated when we fought. "How are you feeling? I saw you running around in the background today."
A laugh fled my lips at her remark. This was something completely Mom-like, closely watching the TV to spot her son somewhere in the middle of the chaos.
"Um, yeah. We had to rush to get everything set up in time. The jet lag had us all wiped out."
Her laugh traveled down the line. "Well, you're staying in Europe for now, so the jet lag won't be as bad for the time being, huh?"
"Guess so," I responded with a sigh, trying to find comfort in the following silence between us.
It was impossible to, though, because my mother and I were never silent around each other. If anything, we could be who we were around us, not having to worry about our weird dynamics. Guess that was what happened when your mother raised you on her own from day one.
