All the Way - an F1 story

36

12 September, 2021
📍Monza,Italy

The blaring of the alarm clock was jarring, and very unpleasant for such an early hour. Another five minutes of peace was all she needed, just five more.

Throw it against the fucking wall. Then you can get your five minutes.

Something moved against her, and she freaked out for a split-second, until she remembered the strong arm that had been lying against her waist. It reached over her, pressing on the snooze button displayed on the screen. Calina turned to face the person behind her, and God, what a sight it was.

Matteo: half his face still buried into one of her pillows, chocolate eyes still droopy with sleep and his soft, dark hair all a mess and fanning across his forehead. He looked soft and comfortable, in a way that made her never want to leave her bed. It was a sight she could get used to in the morning.

"Hi."

"Hello," she smiled. "We both slept in, eh?"

"No, you slept in. Ho molto tempo."

Calina rolled her eyes at his antics, muttering a soft whatever as she slid out from under the covers. Matteo groaned deeply as he stretched out his limbs, before slowly but surely making his way over to the guest room, where his things were still placed.

She saw a number of messages on her phone, including a few from Marco, mostly telling her not to worry too much about being on time to the track that morning, adding of course, "Don't be too late. This isn't a write-off."

Black cargo pants, a black crop top, and her Air Force one's: easy, simple, and with just the amount of effort that Calina was willing to put in that morning (which was well close to nothing). By the time her backpack was packed and she had started breakfast, Matteo had descended the stairs and entered her kitchen. Dressed in his national team polo and plain, black shorts, it was a simple outfit that he pulled off so well. He walked over to where she stood at the counter, slicing up an avocado to spread over the toast, his arms finding their way around her waist and his head resting on hers. She didn't have the heart to tell him that it still ached when his and brushed over her left side repeatedly, which was still bruised all over from her series of crashes.

"Vuoi che guidi io?"

Calina shrugged, handing him his plate.

"I gemelli vengono a prenderti, no?"

"Calì, non ti preoccupare."

"But, Matteo—"

"Calì." She sighed. He was so calm, and he looked amused too, and she knew then he wasn't going to give this up.

"Let me drive us there," Matteo muttered, close enough that she clearly heard his words. Calina huffed, taking a bite of her toast, but gave in nonetheless.

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

Calina had really underestimated how many fans would be at the track when they arrived there. The roads out to the park were completely backed up, and while many who were attending the race chose to walk in, the police escort they got in only helped so much. Floods of Ferrari's signature scarlet, occasionally dotted with orange-clad Max fans or the black polos of Mercedes, could bee seen everywhere, but what really shocked her were the amount of Pagani fans she saw amongst the crowd, decked out in the team shirts and hats, some even carrying Italian flags and posters written all over with words of support.

"Wow," Matteo muttered from the driver's side.

The entrance to the lot reserved for the drivers and team personnel was blocked by security, and upon seeing the sleek Huayra roll in with the parking pass taped to the windshield, they let them by with a quick glance in to verify it was really Calina. Almost everyone was there already, judging by the scarcity of parking space, one of the few left open being her assigned spot in the back, facing a bunch of trees and away from the paddock entrance.