𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄 ~ | 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘓𝘦𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘤

II

Chapter Two:

~ Ironically, still alive ~

"What do you think caused that collision?" The reporter moved the microphone toward me.

I had been kidding myself when I thought I would get to go home. My manager, Amelia, had hurried me to the media pen just as I thought I had escaped.

"Me. I will take full responsibility. I know that the crash was my fault. I made a stupid call." I ran a hand through my hair before pulling my Alpine cap back on. The reporter nodded along with me.

"Well, it's good to see that you are okay." She smiled. "Thanks to a certain Ferrari driver. Care to comment on that?"

I clenched my jaw at the mention of him. Of course I was grateful that he saved me, but... why couldn't it have been someone less dickish?

"Yes, I am very grateful to him for pulling me out of there. But let's just say I'm not thrilled about owing him anything." I answered honestly, laughing lightly. The reporter raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by my response.

"So, there's some history between you two?" she probed, her pen poised above her notepad. I hesitated for a moment, contemplating how much to reveal.

"Let's just say we have a complicated past," I finally replied, offering a mysterious smile. She nodded, jotting down a few notes before moving on to the next question.

"How do you feel about the outcome of today's race?" She asked, shifting the focus to the present. I took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

"Honestly, I'm just relieved that it's over," I admitted. "It was a tough race, and I'm not proud of my performance. Of course I'm really happy for Max." I took a small breath. "I'm just sorry for all the fans who came out to see me or the Ferrari boys."

"They deserved a better show, and I feel like I let them down. But that's racing, you win some and you lose some." The interviewer nodded understandingly, her pen scribbling furiously on her notepad.

"Do you have any other questions?" I asked hopefully. I just wanted to go home and faceplant on my bed. She looked up from her notepad and smiled.

"No, I think we have covered everything. Thank you for your time." She thanked me kindly. I nodded, relived.

"Actually, before I go, has there been any new on Carlos?" I doubled back, the Spaniard crossing my mind. The woman paused.

"I'm afraid not, hun. He's definitely gone to the hospital, but we haven't received any updates yet." She shook her head a little grimly. I felt a lump forming in my throat.

"Okay. Thanks..." I mumbled. I gave the reporter and the camera crew a small smile before turning to leave.

I decided to take the long way to the parking lot. Don't get me wrong, I adore my fans, but right now I just needed a little peace. As I walked, I twirled the ring on my finger.

It had become a comforting habit, this mindless motion that helped to calm my racing thoughts. It was a simple silver band with a single word engraved on the inside.

"Hey you." I suddenly felt a hand on my back, and I turned around, startled. It was my twin sister, Thea. "Sorry for sneaking up on you," she said with a sheepish smile.

"Hi." I gave her a smile. I couldn't meet her gaze. I felt so guilty. She had come all the way out here to see me race, and I had fucked up on the very first lap.