Spotlight

20

"I mean come on is Baku baby" I grinned happily at the young journalist whom had commented on my over the top good mood. Baku was my circuit. It was the track where I, during the previous year, had won and taken the lead in the battle for world champion. It was a circuit of great precision with it's punishingly sharp corners and close walls. My hopes were high seeing as even in formula one you could usually snag some good points by just staying out of the walls.

My mood was surprisingly light. I was delighted to be back with the team, pushing to elevate my performance eased the crippling anxiety to preform that otherwise constantly gnawed at me, putting me on edge. To my great dismay and Christians and Robins delight I had gained some weight. Not all I had lost but around three kilos in two weeks wasn't too bad. The weight gain made me anxious. I feared that it would impact the performance of the car. The praise for gaining weight weighed heavier than the kilos I had put on. I felt like a fucking whale.

However much I might have despised the forced meal plan and lack of exercise, I did partly relish in the energy that had started to return to my body. It no longer felt as stiff and dead, my arms and legs felt lighter and my mind more alert. My mood was over the top happy and I'm quite sure that I gave Daniel a run for his money in the contest of brightest smile.

The interviewer smiled amusedly in response. I believe her name was Liza or Izzy or something along those lines. She was pretty. Her long dark hair cascaded down her back as she brushed a dark stray strand out of her perfectly touched up face. Her brown eyebrows slightly drew together as her eyes silently analyzed my face as she waited for me to elaborate, however since I didn't she took to asking the next question instead. "It sure is" Her smile was genuine and she nodded her head enthusiastically before continuing.

"Yes and so we all know that Baku has been a source of great success for you during previous races in your career, what are your expectations for this week" The journalist was indeed very pretty and I found myself studying her quite intensely as I pondered on what would be the most suitable answer. I wanted to put out a good message of confidence for my supporters but I also did not want to come off as too strong or cocky.

"Well seeing as the practice session went good and the weather seems to play out in our favor I expect a good enough result to make the fans cheer"

I danced around the question as it made me nervous. I wasn't sure how the race would play out. I had been consistently top four in all sectors of the track during practice but there was still so much to play for. I hadn't been running on full fuel which meant that I could expect the car to be a bit slower in quali and during the race. I also suspected that if I were to end up in front of Max the team would invert our positions, seeing as he needed all the points he could get in the battle for a third world championship.

The fans had caught wiff of Max and I's distaste for one another and the speculating about potential fall outs had spread like a wildfire. That is why I found myself in a pre qualifying interview when I should have been studying data and preparing for the upcoming qualifying. RedBull's pr team had volunteered me to partake in the interview and ordered Max to spontaneously walk by and join in, seeing as were such good friends. He was thirty seconds late. Långsamma jävel.

"A very diplomatic answer indeed" She mused, I gave an uneasy smile in response, not knowing if the statement was a jab at me for not really giving an answer or just an observation. For the sake of my own peace I decided to believe in the first alternative.

Just as the awkwardness was about to strangle me someone placed their hands over my eyes and pulled my head back against their chest. "Guess whooo" Max mused in a happy sing song voice. Well he sure had to have been taking acting lessons.