For fuck's sake , George Russell.

18.

A FEW DAYS LATER. (Friday)

MADELINE'S POV

And here we are at the Imola Grand-Prix. It got canecelled cause of floods though.

I was currently in a coffee shop with Myra,Lizzie and Alexandra.

"I'm so pissed the race was cancelled!" Lizzie says, sipping her espresso.

"Me too girl, I was really looking forward to this race" Myra agrees.

"Well, it's not safe for the drivers to drive in these conditions, you know?" I point out the floods through the window.

"You have a point there" Alex nods.

"Anyway, I think I like someone.." Lizzie starts talking.

"GIRLLL WHOOO" Myra bursts. She loves these type of convos.

"Marcus Armstrong. A driver in IndyCar" she shows us some pics of him.

"You really have bad taste" Alex shakes her head in dissapointment.

"Alex! That's rude" Lizzie protects her man.

"She ain't wrong Liz" I say as she scrolls through his instagram feed.

"You have the worst taste in men here Madi" she looks at me.

"I only date hot people" I shrug.

"Pierre Gasly is NOT hot Mads." Myra claps back at me.

"I DIDIN'T MEAN HIM FOR FUCK'S SAKE" I yell. WHY DID SHE THINK OF PIERRE.

"Ohh you meant about Jorge?" she asks.

"Yeah,obviously." I roll my eyes at Myra.

"I mean Jorge is hot not gonna lie,but he's a whore" Myra states.

"Bitch shut up" I shout at her.

"It's true though" Liz backs Myra up.

"Well, yeah." I respond.

We spent a few more minutes in the coffee shop, as I finish my beautiful gelato.

I'm gelato's biggest certified fan. I love love love gelato.

I was now knocking on Lando's door, cause we were sleeping in the same hotel room.

"Open the door Lando" I knock.
He opens, finally.
"Jesus Madeline chill out" he says as I get in the room.

"Where were you?" he asks, closing the door.

"Coffe shop with the girls" I respond.

"Were going back tonight in Monaco" He says.

"WHAT? WHY?" I shout at him.

"Booked a flight already Mads"
"I haven't had enough gelatos though" I place a hand on my heart, acting dramatic.

"Ugh, you're so dramatic" he rolles his eyes.

"When are we going?" I ask.
"9PM we have to be at the airport" he respond.
"It's 8PM right now" I say.
"Then I suggest you start packing"
"Jesus you're in a mood."

Yup, he definently was in a mood.
"Just pissed that the race won't be held" he says, eating some chips that I got from a shop.

"It's fine, there's Monza too" I say
"I suppose" he shrugs,finishing the bag of chips.

I pack and we head out to the airport.
Our flight was 9:30PM.

We were gonna arrive in 3 hours, I think?