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Chapter Three: Your Majesty

"You hate boxing." Jasmine said, eyeing me as I made sure the wraps are properly fixed around my hands.

"I know." I grumbled, feeling the frustration rise to the surface. I grabbed the boxing gloves she brought for me and began to put them on.

"Then why are you doing it?"

"Because I need to let out my anger on something and this is the only healthy way I know how."

Today was a shitshow.

Everything was going well during the first half of the race with me maintaining P5. Saint had a better reaction time than Levi and snagged P1 at the start of the race so the two of them fought for the place the majority of the afternoon. Atlas seemed to be experiencing problems with his car and moved down to P4 after ten laps, leaving me to fight with him and attempt a finish that would land me and the team more points in the championship. I was preparing to activate DRS as we left the chicane in the second sector when I heard a crash behind me.

I was only afforded a second to look at my mirrors before I felt something hit the back of my car, causing me to swerve a little. One of the cars behind me pulled a dangerous move that ended up with him crashing with the driver in P6 who ended up hitting me in return. The damage wasn't that severe that I couldn't drive, but after five laps, we had to retire the car because it was at risk of stopping mid-race.

Everyone was talking about it and I made the stupid mistake of going online. Most of the people were talking about the two drivers who crashed, but a few have noted that I could've had a better reaction time and prevented myself from being affected.

It was complete and utter bullshit, and I'm pissed that I'm letting it get to me.

Saint won the race so it wasn't a completely terrible day for the team. I pushed myself to be happy for him as we all posed for pictures by the motorhome, but when I was on my own and on the way back to the hotel? The smile I had on my lips was nonexistent.

"You can go back to your room, if you want. I know you're dying to jump on your bed." I smirked, remembering the look she had on her face when I told her I'd hit the gym after dinner. My body is screaming for me to do the same, but I can't bring myself to head back to my room. If I go up, I'm just going to spend the entire night watching replays of today's fuckup and think of a million ways I could've avoided it.

"And I know you're pushing your body too much." Jasmine said, grabbing one of the gloves and raising an eyebrow at me. "You're not going to rest, are you?"

"Nope."

"Then at least pick something else that isn't as strenuous." I rolled my eyes as she grabbed my other hand and removed the boxing glove I already put on. "Why don't you go for a swim? It's already ten o'clock and I doubt the guests would be spending their time inside the hotel."

Saint was out celebrating with Atlas and a few of the other drivers. The after party in Miami was a big deal just like the ones in Monaco and Vegas. Since the race weekend was filled with a lot of high profile celebrities, it was expected that most of them would be hitting the clubs after the race. I, for one, am in no mood to drink and plaster a smile on my face. I'm not the type who never goes out either because growing up in New York meant spending Friday nights out with my best friend whenever I was in the city.

"But hitting water isn't as satisfying as hitting a punching bag." I protested which led Jasmine to glare at me, hands placed over her hips. "That has no effect on me." She continued doing it, only making it look more hilarious since she was about five inches shorter than me.

"I'll call your dad." She threatened and I gaped at her, watching her lips form into a smirk.

"You wouldn't."