Athelia
"Box, Box, Athy", the static voice on the radio announced, "Box, Box." Driving into the pit lane was always terrifying. There are multiple things that contribute to this. Making sure I'm not speeding or colliding into barriers, the pit crew assuring that we have the quickest stop, and the exit. With 10 laps left of this race, I swerved into the pits as swiftly as I could, pulled up by the team and within four seconds, was off again before rejoining the race. Formula 2 pit stops are not as efficient and fast as Formula 1.
This was just a normal F2 race, which would be followed by the F1 race later on in the day. A McLaren team associate for Formula 1 was supposed to be coming by next weekend as they are looking for a new member for a seat in the upcoming season. Technically, Harley Grant (my arch nemesis) and I already race with McLaren, but to up my game, I need to get that seat. It's not been done in many years but I'm hoping they'll see my driving and consider me.
Speed. These last laps matter so much, I'm already in the lead by a few seconds so I have the advantage. Speed. I started on pole and hopefully, I'll finish there. Speed. 62 laps done, 10 to go. Speed. I don't stop pushing, I can't. Speed, Speed, Speed.
"Keep pushing, Athy," Skye, the newest member of our team, stated. Skye Morgan moved to our team a few months back and we clicked instantly. She said she moved down here because of a family member getting a promotion but I've not heard her mention it anymore. In contrast to her driving like a bat out of hell, she's amazing on the radio and knows exactly what to say. She even joins the pit crew changing tires every so often. Skye is quick, clever and cocky but you'd never know the latter when she's in race mode.
Lap 63, 64, 65 gone. 7 laps to go. I'm nervous now. My stomachs twisting, head's banging with the upcoming headache I'm used to after races, my hands are sweaty. I think I'm loosing grip on the wheel but no, I hold strong and push, push, push. 66, 67, 68. Breathing's getting faster, face is probably red with exhaustion, I'm hungry now. 69, 70, 71. Nearly there, so close, one more lap.
The last lap goes by so quickly, I don't stop pushing for the win, the finish line is in view along with the checkered flag......and Harley Grant takes the win by flying past at the last possible second. I'm positive I saw his middle finger as he drove by too. Asshole. I've never known anyone more infuriating yet handsome. I hate him but I can't deny his ungodly beauty. Slamming my fists on my steering wheel as I cross the line and letting out a scream is the normal behaviour when he overtakes like that. The poor pit crew get an earful. It's either him or me to win. Every single time. No other drivers in F2 try anymore because they don't want to get involved with our rivalry. It's crazy.
He drives ahead to cool off, probably to ignore the look I'm giving him. I stayed ahead the whole race. Shouldn't have taken advantage. It was a good race, no crashes, safety cars, red flags...too good to be true. Should've been more careful and checked my mirrors more. Pulling off the track, I grieve my first place podium. I sit in despair before Skye walks over to help me get out of my car, Bertha, letting the pit crew take care of her before going to re-watch parts of the race. My helmet and neck brace come off messing up my hair, releasing all the heat. It's the regular re-runs and discussing what I can do better, the boring part of the job especially when the team usually let me do my own thing and just tell me when to pit. But as I see Grant walk past with a smug look, all I want to do is wipe it off his face.
"Hey, don't beat yourself up about it, Drew!" he yells, the smirk growing, "I'm sure you'll make it to F1 one day! Oh wait...sorry, I forgot, you're a girl. It's never gonna happen!" He's laughing now. Full on belly laughing. I'm blushing with tears in my eyes again. He's got to be arrogant but attractive. "Yeah, well, don't get your hopes up Grant! You're still not there either! Are you sure you're a male if you're that confident it's all about gender?" He stops laughing and glares with all he's got. Oh dear. Not my best move. He clenches his jaw and walks away which is unusual for him although I'm glad it doesn't escalate any further.
It's awkward because he's hot. If he wasn't, it would make life easier but he is and he's got a horrible attitude. He probably thinks the same of me. Tall, dark, handsome British lad and he drives amazingly...if we weren't rivals, I'd say he was good. Good tactics usually but then I've got them too so maybe he's not THAT great.
Skye and I sit round waiting for the go ahead for podium. "You raced good, Athy!" she states, "times are amazing, no trouble with the car....just Grant." She frowns. "I know Skye, it's just hard. Just gotta make sure I'm on the ball for next weekend and we'll be good to go!" I say enthusiastically. She smiles now. The F1 race will start straight after the podiums which is always so fun to watch. Their race is so much more intense, more hard work and that's what I strive for.
"Podiums up girls, let's go!" We hear from the back. We stand and walk to the podium ready for the awards.
YOU ARE READING
Crazy
Romance"He drives me crazy" "She drives me wild" As a woman, Athelia Drew was never truly encouraged into the sport until recently. With the nature of Formula 1 being mostly male, she struggles to cope with her feelings when her rival, Harley Grant, is mov...
