𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐞 , cl16

𝐢𝐢𝐢 ── wishful thinking

Rolex Monte Carlo Sponsor's Gala
Monte Carlo, Monaco
20 January 2021

EMERALD GREEN IS becoming more familiar to Noa as the days pass, and she nears making her debut in Formula 1. It's the colour of her evening gown, the one Raffaella had delivered to her Monte Carlo hotel room earlier that evening inside a sleek Chanel gift bag. She has to admit, if they're trying to convince her to sign that contract, they're certainly doing a good job, because this dress is one of the most beautiful she's ever worn. It feels like a second skin, like ribbons of water flowing through her fingers when she hitches up the skirt a little, walking slowly up the steps to the venue. Camera lenses click and flash all around her. Even if her confidence is shredded by anxiety, dressed like this, Noa feels like a million dollars.

Just like the rest of Monaco, the Salle Belle Epoque is ludicrously expensive, lavish beyond anything she's seen before. This is the playground of the rich, after all. Its ceilings are high, marble pillars framed with gold stretching far upwards, where they meet the ceiling, like a work of art painted across the sky. It reminds her of Versailles, Noa thinks, the image and embodiment of wealth. It's intimidating to stand amongst it all, harsh golden lights from chandeliers glaring down upon her. But she keeps her head up high, and clutches at Sebastian's arm a little tighter. He smiles over reassuringly. He must have done quite a few of these galas in his time. Noa trusts he won't let her flounder.

The itinerary for the night is planned out to a tee and expected to be followed. First, the press have their fill of pictures outside the venue, something which she is, thankfully, already accustomed to. She's the showstopper of the night in her emerald dress, and it seems the cameras can't get enough of her. Noa has to bite back her laughter at Sebastian's forlorn expression as he's momentarily pushed to the side. Though he may be a four-time World Champion, he doesn't exactly try to carry himself with much glamour anymore; much more comfortable with his unruly, one-with-nature kind of look (meaning that Britta almost had to fight him to get him to drag a comb through his hair for the night). "I've had my heyday in Monaco." he tells Noa later, in the car on their way to the venue, "Those years were enough to last me a lifetime."

Second comes the cocktail reception, in which they await the arrival of all the guests. She has half a mind to call Sebastian out on his earlier statement, as the way he's going through already his third glass of the night is strikingly similar to his days of partying with Red Bull. Noa holds her tongue though, when they are approached by some of the other guests in attendance. She'll remind him later, when he's inevitably struggling to walk in a straight line.

Rolex has branched out further into Formula 1 to mark the beginning of the new season. Looking around, Noa can already spot a lot of familiar faces. There's Lewis Hamilton, of course, over near the bar talking to the ever-smiling Daniel Ricciardo. As an old family friend, she makes a note to pull the seven-time World Champion aside to catch up before the end of the night – she hasn't seen him in almost six months, after all. Noa has spotted Seb shooting looks at Kimi Räikkönen from across the room who, like his former teammate, is indulging perhaps a little too much on the complimentary cocktails. Then there's Max Verstappen, who is standing stoic as ever in a corner with a familiar looking blonde woman. Noa hasn't seen much of him since her karting days, but she thinks – looking at the slightly uncomfortable expression on his face – he might appreciate seeing a familiar face. She certainly would: well, depending on how familiar, that is.

The one person she really doesn't want to see appears not to have arrived yet. She isn't naïve enough to believe he won't show up; considering he practically rules Monaco, it would be unheard of for him to not be here. Noa can't see his new teammate, Carlos Sainz, amongst the crowd either, so she assumes the Ferrari representatives simply haven't arrived yet. She makes a mental note to keep an eye out for the Spanish driver – that way she'll know roughly when she needs to take herself to the bar to prepare for the undoubtedly awkward few hours ahead.