𝘽𝙄𝙏𝙏𝙀𝙍, max verstappen

chapter sixteen.

over past week leading up to the dutch grand prix, camila spent her time training, working, doing anything to distract her mind.

and it was working up until she realised her hotel room this weekend was directly across from max's.

huffing, camila stirred awake, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

today was thursday, and after an smooth running free practice yesterday, camila was ready to give it her all during qualifying. she needed to start in pole. she needed to prove everybody wrong.

over the past week, the media and fans were relentless, constantly criticising camila for letting down the team — some even naming her responsible for the issues with lewis' car. camila's disappointing race weekend was now being named as the start of her downfall, and the resurgence of redbull domination.

and as she situated herself in the car, ready to begin her out-lap, those thoughts echoed in her mind.

fp3 had gone well, there were no issues with the car and it was an important and valuable opportunity for the team to gather more data in regards to lewis' car. camila however, had practically received radio silence, the team obviously not as focused on giving her any feedback.

and when camila made an attempt to push out one more hot-lap, unhappy with her previous, the team refused. however at lewis' request, he was able to be sent out of the pits to do another lap.

wasn't the team putting their faith in her? that's what toto had told her; that's what everyone was telling her. she had the responsibility to hold the team together.

"why am i sitting in the pits? i could easily go out for another lap, what we've got right now isn't good enough" camila complained, confusion laced in her voice.

"lewis is looking stronger this weekend. we're sure your current lap time will be enough to get through q2. team orders camila, sorry" james responded, rather dryly actually.

anger coursed through her body. it was not enough, she would easily be out of q2 with the lap she just produced, she was positive. camila frustrations only grew more as she stepped out of the car to be met with that same look from everyone. the look that said 'we all know your probably leaving. sorry'

camila was tired of the sorry glances from everyone. and she was tired being treated as some fragile thing that was slowly falling apart in front of everyone.

camila took a seat next to toto, him acknowledging her presence, nodding and smiling at the girl, patting her back.

crossing her arms, headset on, camila resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she watched her name begin to drop faster and faster, with each driver effortlessly producing faster lap times than her. camila knew the team was making a stupid decision, how couldn't they see it?

she could feel toto freeze uncomfortably as her name flashed across multiple screens around the garage, displaying that she had been knocked out of q2, starting in p11 for tomorrow. he remained silent, and so did the rest of the garage.

camila almost turned to toto to say 'i told you so' but instead, she remained seated, staring at the screen in front of her, and as lewis scored pole position, her silence amongst the cheers and applause from the rest of the garage was enough of an indication that she was mad.

"there's camila rivera, not celebrating her teammates pole position, she's clearly not happy with where she'll be starting tomorrow, understandably" crofty commented, as the camera turned to camila, sat still in her chair, an unreadable expression on her face as the visibly happy team of hers celebrated lewis' accomplishment.