letters [max verstappen]

14

September 2015 - Stavelot, Belgium

Rumors had continued swirling about Max's mystery girlfriend for the rest of the summer break, but my name didn't seem to be brought up much. The situation did mean Max and I had to tell the rest of the team about our relationship, but to our relief, all we got were words of surprise and support. Franz in particular was impressed with how professional and mature we were able to behave, which was a weight off my shoulders.

To be safe, though, Franz and the PR team decided that for Spa I should take some time off from my Toro Rosso duties and spend the entirety of the weekend with Campos. The reason was so that Max and I could distance ourselves a bit from each other, at least until the buzz around his 'mystery girl' died down.

It was kind of nice having less on my plate during the weekend, especially at Spa, a track that I had to know like the back of my hand. I had been here just a few months earlier for Eurocup, and the memories were still fresh of my crash and injured wrist.

On Thursday afternoon Mikel, Nacho, and I did our track walk. We were almost done, just headed up to the chicane when someone wrapped their arms around my shoulders from behind. I spun my head around and was surprised to see Pierre. He was racing in GP2, but our schedules almost never lined up and I rarely got to see him during race weekends.

"Pi!" I squealed, pulling him into a hug.

"Hey, Chouchou." He chuckled, wrapping his arms around my back.

"What a surprise." I beamed. We continued walking, me and him a few meters ahead of our engineers, who struck up some conversation.

"So that picture of Max from over the break... that's you, right?" He whispered.

"Not you, too." I groaned. "Yes, it's me."

"Mm, good." He hummed. He was one of the first people who knew when Max and I went official, so there was no harm in telling him.

"Why do you ask? You know we're together" I raised an eyebrow. That got a chuckle out of him.

"Because it's a small community, and people like to gossip." He said matter-of-factly. "Some people, even people that know you guys have 'something' going on think it's a model, some think it's some random girl he met on the beach, and you're lucky that very few think it's you."

"A model, huh?" I flipped my hair jokingly.

"Oh don't flatter yourself, you can't even see your face." He teased. Soon we were back in the paddock and walking past the media pen when one reporter ran over to me.

"Becca Sommer, right?" She shoved a microphone in my face.

"Uh, yeah." I frowned.

"What do you have to say about the new woman in Max Verstappen's life?" She asked.

"Not much?" I stammered. The butterflies were rising in my stomach. Did she know?

"Come on, we know you and Max are friends here in the paddock. You must know something about her. Have you met her?" She pressed.

"I- yeah, I've met her. She's nice I guess." I played along. My stomach settled. Clearly, the reporter thought it was another girl.

"You guess?" She continued to push.

I put on a fake smile. "You know, it's not my place to talk about her. Max will share what he wants to, and that's that."

"But there's no rift between you and Max, no jealousy? You two are usually two peas in a pod and we usually see you in Toro Rosso or Red Bull gear, but this weekend it's been nothing but Campos. One might think that has to do with his recently changing relationship status." She observed.