Turbulence [𝗠.𝗩.]

United Kingdom, Qualifying

Pizza night! - @JessicaBond57

@JessicaBond67 I'm begging you, please stop making me go grey early - @ClaireTThompson

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ENGLAND
10TH RACE WEEKEND OF THE SEASON
JULY

The first person I see as I return to the circuit the next morning is Max. He jogs over, in his jeans and Red Bull gear, smiling widely at me.

"We could hang out again tonight?" His grin vanishes as I see nervousness take over. "I—if you want, I don't want to make you—"

"We can." I say, nodding as I press my pass to the gate. Last night was great. We chatted, ate way too much pizza, and generally just enjoyed each other's company. As we have been for the past few weeks now. It was nice. He didn't treat my small flat like it was something to laugh at. He was respectful of my personal space. I trust him with my home.

The paddock is alive with noise. People, a distant building crowd, machinery and media. The once clear skies are now cloudy and grim in appearance, but nothing stops the crowds in England. British fans don't care what the weather is: they'll come out for a day of sporting events.

"I'll buy dinner this time?" Max suggests as we enter.

"I'll cook something. Might be murdered by Claire if I eat takeout again. Italian sound nice?"

"I'm a picky eater." He blurts out. I nod in what I hope he gets is understanding. I get it. I'm fighting my diet so hard it's not fun. I hate half the food on it but I willingly agree to it every year. I trust my trainer.

"Takeout it is. But please, nothing with Salmon. I'm so sick of Salmon, I might want to cry if I get another meal with it in."

He laughs with me as we part ways, heading to our respective teams. I see Mick waiting at the hospitality unit for me and jog over to join him. I hope he doesn't mind me chewing his ear off about how much I'm loving our new upgrades.

He didn't mind, but then Mick is always so patient with my verbal vomit. We're separated from each other now, out on the track. I'm doing some race runs, as we make sure our setup is just right. I've been on the track for about fifteen minutes but the track is starting to get busy. I decide to test my luck and seek out a certain Red Bull as I do a few race runs.

It's only after a few laps that I find the one I'm after: Daniel Ricciardo. He's on a race run as well. I make sure he can see me before I gently try to pressure him as if I'm going to have a race with him and him alone. He could easily hit the throttle and get away. The RB19 is a beast of a machine. But he doesn't. We spend half a lap bobbing around, before Mateo ruins our fun.

"Box, box. Rain incoming."

I reluctantly return to the pits, right as a few spots of rain hit my visor. Ah. Great. It's a precautionary call. Either we go back out with my used tyres, or we go for a run on inters - which we can waste if they declare the track to be wet.

We wait patiently as a few cars go out. I stay in the car, watching the data on the screen in lowered down behind the halo. My times are brilliant. This might be the best performance yet if it translates well into race day.

"Norris coming in... they're putting slicks on him. Might as well head back out."

"Copy." I wait as my car is lowered from the jacked position, and head out as the mechanic indicates for me to do so. Turn 3 is where I find rain. But it's not much. A light drizzle, if that. Turn seven is where it's worst, but even then its not above spitting. I can stay out on slicks in this. Most of the track is dry, I'll get enough warmth in the tyres to make it through the wet section.