DEEP BREATHS | lando norris

CHAPTER 18

ILMA

Home race. What emotions. I came to Bosnia a week before the whole race weekend. I wanted to spend some time in my home country and relax here, except focusing only on what I have to do because of my job. I'm still a human that doesn't want to stress out about every little detail.

It's Wednesday as I walk down the street, wearing an oversized white button up and baggy jeans. I pull the sunglasses on my nose because I am sure that any minute I would be blind if I didn't wear them. The sun is so bright today that my head hurts when I'm outside for too long. I spot some people recording me with their phones, too anxious to come up to me to take a photo but I try to ignore them. That's what I signed up for while becoming the F1 driver, right? All eyes on me. Almost every second of my life.

I sigh and take a turn to get into the bakery for my late breakfast. I have to eat something because otherwise I would faint somewhere in public. And that's what I want to avoid. That would be a long story to explain to the media or a big lie to say. Nothing between those two arguments. Maybe yes, lately my eating dissorder was getting out of hand. But it wasn't that bad eventually. I've been eating only one meal for a day and I'm still alive, right?

I almost knock into some guy as I'm in my head, fighting with my own thoughts. I immidiately take a step back, look up at him and start apologizing but he stops me right away.

"Okay, okay, nothing happened, really." he chuckles and pulls up a smile on his face with that. It's the time I have a few seconds to scan his face so I maybe recognize him. Face features seem familiar. Like I've seen them somewhere. Hair, blonde and the little smirk. Now I know.

"What are you doing here, Fabio?" I ask him, putting the shades on the top of my head to have a proper conversation with him. I like to look people in the eyes while I talk with them.

"Well, I came to see the Bosnian GP." he says as we start walking into the bakery so there would be less people that are looking at us. Maybe we'll have a feeling that we're normal people for a short period of time.

"Why Bosnian?" I push the bakery's doors and get in, welcoming the people behind the counter with a friendly wave and a smile.

"Oh, I don't know..." he smirks. "New race track? More emotions? Your home race?"

"So you want me to believe that you came here for me, huh?" I chuckle and pay for my order which is a simple bagel from the bakery's breakfast offer. I turn around to look at Fabio who has now his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"Believe what you want." he shrugs off his shoulders still having that smirk on his face which makes me sure that it's his way of confirming things.

"How's you MotoGP season?" I ask him before taking a table far away from windows and in the corner of the bakery. I want to eat my bagel in peace. I have to admit I'm not keeping up with MotoGP since I haven't met any rider for more than a year. I just wasn't interested in searching it all up because I had no need to do so. Fabio sits in front of me and leans back on the leather couch, putting his hands on the table, playing with the rings he has on his fingers. My eyes landed on his hands automaticaly, I couldn't do anything.

"It's okay, I'm third in the championship, maybe I'll be able to win it or at least end up on second place." Fabio says and waits for me to look up to make an eye contact with me.