Love, Olive - c.l

three

All three practices in Bahrain were terrible.

I got P13, P17, and P11.

Talk about terrible alright.

I was sitting in my personal driver's room, just wallowing in self-pity. This was meant to be my big break, a chance to prove myself, and all I was doing was being a fat let-down.

Go Olive.

As I sulk in my driver's room, I hear a gentle knock. Before I get the chance to knock, I see Oscar peep his head around the door, craning his neck.

"Don't even talk to me about it," I say carelessly, beckoning him inside.

He comes inside, and closes the door gently behind him, not turning away from me.

"I'm sorry, Olive." He says quietly, still standing.

"Don't be. It's not your fault. What's so infuriating is that the car has the pace, the conditions are good, and everything about these past couple of days has been great, but for some reason, I'm the fu-" I say, rethinking my words, "I'm the problem. No matter what I'm doing, I just couldn't get myself to be quick enough."

I sigh at myself. Oscar has just listened to me rant, and not said a word. He had always been a good listener.

"You've done great today though. Yesterday too, you've been flying." I say, trying to recover from my previous blabber.

He laughs softly, looking to the floor, before lifting his gaze back up.

"Thank you."

"You're a very good listener."

"So I've been told."

We sat in silence for a few seconds more, before he spoke up again.

"I came to get you, we have to go to the media pen. Just a few words before qualifying tomorrow." He says to me.

I look at him, analysing his face.

There was something he wasn't telling me.

"Oscar, I can read you like a book. What aren't you telling me." I say, leaning forwards in my seat and cocking an eyebrow.

He lets out a sigh, before shaking his head and looking at the floor again.

"Who's going to be there with us?" I ask.

I hear his breathing change, and I know I have him busted.

"Go on, Pastry," I say, staring at him.

He lets out a quiet scoff-laugh and looks up to me.

"Esteban, Fernando, and-" He says taking a breath, "Charles."

I click my tongue and roll my eyes, remembering my encounter with the Ferrari driver a few nights previous.

I scoff and look up at Oscar.

"We may be new, but we're not going to let someone like Charles Leclerc," I begin, saying his name like it was poison, "Walk all over us, are we?"

A cheeky grin spread across my face, and he soon matched me.

"Like hell."

-=+=-

"Ladies first." He says cockily, holding open the door to the media pen.

"Why thank you, kind sir," I say back, with the same tone.

I walked inside, and there were very few people there. Just a few camera people, but no journalists or other drivers yet.

Oscar followed behind me and almost sighed in relief. Being the new kids on the block, along with Logan, felt like transferring to a new school.