More, lewis hamilton

Chapter 8

It was the race day, she woke up at six because she couldn't sleep. The qualification went well for both of the Mercedes drivers according to Toto. She was starting from third and Lewis was second, because Max was first. Maybe, she was overestimating herself but she really thought that she could do more than third place. Anyway, she was going to win that anyway, she had to.

She was proud of Max, because she knew how it was like to have a father like Jos and her father was friend with him. Alike souls, alike traumatized kids. But she also had a father to prove herself, he was not in her life anymore but his voice was echoing inside.

She wore her work-out clothes, heading to the gym of the hotel. She was waiting for the elevator, but someone's shadow above her.

When she lifted her head to look who was it, suprise suprise. Lewis Hamilton. Wearing his black short and a t-shirt that barely covering his chest. "Are you kidding me?", all she wanted was to have a peaceful work-out session and there he wasagain.

"Good morning to you, sweetheart." He has a smug smile on his face that she wanted to punch, motherfucker. "It is never a good morning with you," and he laughed. HE LAUGHED. "You are fun Al, " he said getting inside of the elevator. Alma clenched her jaw as she stepped into the elevator beside Lewis, shooting him a warning glare that could freeze lava.

"I won't be fun when I murder you, and I mean it." Lewis' practises went a little better than Alma's. Not like hers were bad but his practise results were better. Also, his qualifications were better than hers.

Lewis leaned casually against the elevator wall, his relaxed demeanor contrasting sharply with Alma's tightly coiled energy. "Come on, Al, where's your sense of humor?" he teased, raising an eyebrow in mock innocence. "My sense of humor vanished the moment you stepped into my gym time," Alma retorted, her voice laced with sarcasm. She pressed the button for the gym floor, the elevator starting its ascent with a soft hum. The elevator was deadly slow, Alma thought. Great. She was trying to focus on anything but the fact that she was stuck in a confined space with him.

Lewis fixed his posture and leaned towards Alma a little, his smile never faltering. "You know, Al, you should learn to appreciate these moments. We don't often get to share such intimate spaces," he teased, his tone playful. The elevator dinged, signaling their arrival at the gym floor. Alma stepped out quickly, relieved to be away from Lewis's teasing for a moment. He couldn't help but to laugh to her sudden move. He was really having fun with how Alma was triggered with him during those moments.

She headed straight for the treadmill, determined to channel her frustrations into her workout. She had to think him as a catalyst, a trigger to motive her to train and do better.

Meanwhile, Lewis strolled over to the weights section, his muscles flexing as he grabbed a pair of dumbbells. Alma couldn't help but steal a glance at him from the mirrors. He didn't look like he was 38, furthermore he was somehow looked more... hot? This was no secret that Lewis was goodlooking, even handsome and charming, but a complete asshole. He was so full of himself and he was so fucking blind about his own mistakes. She couldn't help but feel the hate in her veins.

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After what felt like an eternity of intense workout, Alma finally slowed down the treadmill and stepped off, her muscles warm and her mind clearer. She grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from her face, glancing around the gym.

Alma took a moment to stretch and cool down, also she was watching people at the same time. She couldn't afford to let anything, especially not Lewis, throw her off her game. She had to be the most ruthless version of herself. Win or win. She would much prefer to end on the barriers than not finishing as the first. Thanks to her father.