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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"That's P7, Phoenix. Felipe's P11," Chris spoke into his headset, announcing the bad news.
My entire team sighed in defeat, their heads shaking as they watched the screen. This definitely wasn't what we'd had in mind for our first Qualifying session after the summer break.
"Fuck." Phoenix groaned in response. "Sorry, guys. I'm just not confident with this setting. Can't go full throttle when the car feels off like that."
"Copy. We'll figure it out 'til tomorrow." Chris clicked a few buttons, watching how Phoenix drove into the pit lane. "You can head straight to the office — we've got strategies to plan," he added.
"Now?" I asked, interrupting the conversation with his driver. "Shouldn't we do that in the morning?"
Chris shook his head, covering the mic as he talked to me. "Michael wants to make sure we're on top of everything before going into the race tomorrow. We'll have a meeting now and another one tomorrow morning. You don't have to be there — I know your time is better spent on the car than in an office chair."
Unfortunately, he was right. I would've loved to be a part of that meeting, simply to see Phoenix for more than a minute. With us lying low to avoid any more media drama than we already had, it was tough to find any time together. It was no use, though. I had to do my job, even if that meant going for another night shift without Phoenix's presence.
When he got out of the car, his racing suit sticking to his wet features, all I got was a quick smile, its edges not quite reaching his eyes. I could tell he wanted to approach me, but Michael already grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away from the garage and into the office area, where they disappeared out of my sight.
Sighing, I got to work. There was no use dwelling over missed opportunities when my job was right in front of me. And so I spent most of the afternoon analyzing data and checking the car for potential weaknesses, running my very own diagnostics on whatever was wrong.
By the time evening rolled around, most of the workers had left, leaving me alone with my thoughts and countless pieces of paper on the garage floor.
My eyes skimmed over the pages while my work-playlist ran through my headphones, giving me the right amount of focus to test and retest new setups. I was close to finding something I thought would work, when suddenly, the music stopped.
Incoming call from The Baddest Bitch Of All Time. Accept? The computer voice announced, and I couldn't help but laugh out loud.
With a shake of my head, I tapped my right headphone, picking up the call.
"Jas, did you change your name on my phone again?" I laughed, not even waiting to hear her voice to confirm my suspicions.
"Well, maybe." The smile on her lips was audible through her response. "You know I like to fuck with those weird headphones of yours. Did it make you laugh?"
