The Red, The Silver, and The Girl Who Liked Both

Gym and Conversations

Max and I haven't spoken about the events that transpired last night all morning. When we woke up, we were tangled up with our limbs and sheets. Through breakfast we made light conversation, and we talked about the plans for the week before the race weekend. Today was the gym, mostly. Only for a few hours before Max has to head to the track to talk with Checo and the rest of the team for the final race.

While this is not the first time I've been with either Max or Lewis all week leading up to a race, this one feels different. I feel so out of touch about what the schedule is supposed to be, it feels like the first time I'd ever done this. It was with Max that first time, and it was his first win. The 2016 Spanish Grand Prix, Max was 18 and I was 17. Lewis was 31 at the time, and my then unhealthy crush was just beginning.

We change into workout clothes, mine more haphazardly put together since I hadn't packed any, and headed down to the gym in the hotel. We start with the bike, a sort of warm up Max claims. I'm not overweight by any means, but I am certainly out of shape. Max does much more than me, and I'm sweating by the first mile I've completed on the bike. I lean over the handles of the workout bike and breathe deeply. After a while Max pokes me and I turn my head to see his smile.

"Tired already?" Max teases. He wipes his face with a towel he brought.

"Yeah, I'm wildly out of shape," I huff back and climb off the bike. Max follows and we get some spray and some towels and wipe off the seat and handles.

"So what now?" I ask and am somewhat dreading whatever Max says for an answer.

"Now we're going to do single-arm dumbbell push presses," Max replies and I groan under my breath. Max seems to catch it though and he smiles.

"You don't have to do the whole thing Vic," He says and I cheer unceremoniously.

Max leads the way and picks up some pretty impressive sized dumbbells. I watch in fascination

as Max completes a few reps of the exercise. I don't count, but it's a fair amount before he rests for a moment. He continues on for a moment, then pauses to look up at me.

"Aren't you going to join?" Max asks teasingly and I huff. I pick up a considerably smaller dumbbell and copy Max in his exercise.

I do fairly well, trying to match Max and focus on breathing. It's pretty hard work, and as if I can't get anymore sweaty I hear someone else walk into the nearly empty gym. I go cold when I hear the voice of the mysterious gym-goer.

"Lewis," I whisper and the dumbbell slips from my grasp and lands right on my foot. I breathe in sharply, trying to hold in a yell.

Max looks up when he hears the clank, and also nearly drops his own weight. I look frantically at him, holding my foot tightly as tears of pain spring into my eyes.

"Hey, let's just ignore him and maybe he'll ignore us too," Max says quietly and I nod. I pick back up my dumbbell and finish off the exercise.

It's a careful dance Max and I do around Lewis, and he seems to be thinking the same idea as he always seems to stay opposite of wherever we are in the gym. Max and I then move to kettlebell Romanian deadlifts, to improve hip flexibility and strengthen the glutes. Or so Max says. I check my watch and we've been here for a little over an hour and a half.

Finally, after sweating through all of my clothes, we finish off with thoracic rotations to help open up the chest and improve mobility. Max's workout has increased in intensity immensely since the first time I ever tagged along with him. With a smile, Max hands me another towel and I huff at him. I wipe down nearly every part of exposed skin I can, vowing to take a long-ass shower as soon as we get back to the room.