Horner's daughter

Isn't she lovely?

It had been two weeks since Max and Y/N had last seen each other and to say that both of them were not in the slightest excited to see each other again would be a massive lie.

In between training, factory visits and other Red Bull duties, Max found his mind wandering towards Y/N, so much so that he missed the question the interviewer asked him about the race weekend that they were going into.

Ah yes, Baku. The circuit in the Azerbaijani capital that was famed for being quite a dangerous one. Crashes and accidents were frequent. He remembered the crash he'd had himself with Daniel back in 2018 when they'd been teammates. Daniel had gone straight into the back of him trying to overtake and he vividly remembered the wrath that both of them had faced from Christian Horner. The same Christian Horner who's daughter he was thinking about.

He chastised himself wondering what on Earth he was getting himself into. He'd met her for little over ten minutes and she'd had this much of an effect on him. He blinked and tried to banish her from his mind, at least for the remainder of the press conference, so that he didn't make more of a fool of himself.

He successfully navigated the rest of the interview with no further hitches and quickly left after being dismissed to return to the Red Bull garage, where as luck would have it, Y/N Horner was standing.

She turned, sending him a bright smile that he couldn't help but return. He decided that he'd go and talk to her but the universe clearly had other ideas as at that moment her father called for him. He cursed Christian inwardly but went to him anyway, hoping that he'd be quick. He wasn't.

He'd only had time for small smiles since as he was either driving in free practice or trying to help the team optimise his car for qualifying. Qualifying came and went in a chaotic manner as his fellow drivers crashed leading to numerous red flags. He qualified third behind his title rival Lewis Hamilton, which wasn't ideal but he'd always said that he'd rather qualify third than second because you could slipstream the leader which happened to be Charles Leclerc.

With that in mind he felt quietly confident about the race, which aged well in hindsight. He'd watched as Hamilton easily got past Leclerc on lap two, hoping that he could do the same. Lap 7 came and he'd seized his opportunity to get past the Ferrari and chase down Lewis and Sergio had done the same. It was all going so well and it got even better when Hamilton had a slow stop under the yellow flag. Max was leading the Azerbaijan Grand Prix and he even stayed ahead of Lewis after his own pit with Sergio to back him up. He and Sergio were showing great teamwork.

Max was in the line for the race win. He was first. This victory was surely his. Then his tyre blew as he was travelling down the main straight. He crashed into the wall at 200mph. The impact was huge. All he cared about was the result. He was out. His lead was gone and it could be Hamilton's. He needed this win, it couldn't go to his championship rival. Anger coursed through him. There was a red flag and he clambered out of the cockpit, kicking his tyre in frustration and storming away. The marshals told him to get into the medical car and he had no choice but to do so despite wanting to go to the garage.

After his checks, he finally went to the garage with his head down low, not wanting to look at the staff. He could've won. They all looked at him sympathetically. He went to his driver's room with the frustration still prevalent.

A few minutes later there was a knock. Max sighed, not feeling like facing anyone, until he heard a voice.

"Max, it's me. Y/N. Can I come in?"

Max got up and opened the door, finding Y/N in front of him. She gave him a small smile and entered. He looked at her, a hint of curiosity in his eyes wondering what she wanted.