The Limit (Sebastian Vettel)

72. Risky Business

"What the hell were you thinking?" Lily demanded, approaching Max, who was stood by the side of his wrecked Red Bull.

Max glared at her through his open visor. 

"It wasn't my fault you don't know how to take a corner properly.  Bloody women drivers!"

Lily's blood was boiling.  How dare Max blame her for their collision at turn one on the first lap of the Australian Grand Prix? How dare he suggest she was to blame because she was a woman? What a jerk!   She liked Max, she really did, off track anyway.  On track, he turned into an arrogant, sexist pig! 

Throwing her hands up in frustration, she turned and headed to the pit exit, not waiting around.   She didn't need any medical attention, so she just wanted to put distance between herself and the reigning world champion.

What the hell had Max been trying to do? It hadn't been a heavy collision, just enough to damage both their cars and put them both out of the race.  

With her and Max crashing out from first and second, Charles had been left in the lead, which while great for Ferrari, wasn't great for Lily personally.  

Her teammate was already twelve points ahead of her, and if he won the Australian Grand Prix he'd be thirty seven points ahead of her, thirty eight if he got the fastest lap too.

Which is exactly what he did.  And just to rub salt into Lily's wounds, George finished on the podium and moved above her in the championship.  She'd started the day in second, and ended it in joint third with Seb.

Well, at least Max bloody Verstappen hadn't got any points either.   What Max did get however was a three place grid penalty for the following race at Imola.  The stewards had agreed with Lily that the Dutchman had been solely to blame for the collision, which was something she guessed.  

After her visit to the stewards, she'd spoken to the media, then attended the team debrief and finally headed back to the hotel to get ready for a night out.  She was determined to get shitfaced.  That way she could forget about the disastrous weekend she'd had.  

To be honest, it hadn't all been disastrous, qualifying had gone well, but that was about all that had.   She'd had to watch Seb swanning about with his racesuit hanging down, his tight, white fireproof top clinging to all his muscles. 

She'd seen him having his photo taken with groups of female fans a couple of times. She didn't know why she was so wound up about it.   She knew Seb would never sleep with a fan, and even if he did, it was none of her business.  

He'd not even bothered to text her at all since being in Australia, but she hadn't read anything into that as she hadn't texted him either. They'd both been extremely busy, and as they were staying away from each other on race weekends they'd had no need to text each other.

Only now, back at her hotel, Lily was beginning to wonder if Seb was maybe going off of her. He'd seemed off when he'd left her house, had he had his fill of her and was now moving on?

She had a shower and got changed into a low cut royal
blue playsuit. She blow dried her hair, leaving it hanging loose in soft waves, applied her make up, slipped on her shiny black stilettos and finally squirted some of her favourite perfume on, before heading down to the lobby to meet up with Joel, Amelia, Poppy, Pierre, Charles and Charlotte.