Finding Home - an f1 romance

chapter 4

Natalia Bridgers (POV)
Max's irritable mood is apparent before and after his race. When he left the small room set up for me, I slumped into the chair and rubbed my head. Headaches frequently accompanied the lack of food intake I put myself through.

I felt weak, weaker than usual. I sipped water as the race started. I went towards the crew earlier to feel some sort of adrenaline, gain some energy, but it made me feel even worse, if possible. It sapped me of whatever energy still stored within my body.

I cringed at the bowl of bright fruits a few feet away from me. Take me. Eat me. Give yourself some energy. They pleaded with me, and the temptation was too great.

Taking a few buts of a glossy red apple, I decided this was what I would have for lunch. Yes, this is enough.

The race trudges on, and I get bored rather easily. My father loves F1 and motorsports, so when he realized he could sponsor big teams, he never stopped. He went all in. My father thought spending father-daughter time was dragging me to the track and talking business with some important people, leaving me alone in the paddock.

That's why I hate coming back here. It reminds me of the isolated days spent alone, coloring in an empty conference room much like this one for entire weekends.

I shift uncomfortably in the chair, and only then realize the race is over. I throw away the apple and make my away out of the cold, lonely room. Only then do I realize Max won. He stands on the podium with a smile, and he raises the trophy alongside another Red Bull driver and a Ferrari driver. My father will be pleased to know the team he helps sponsor did well.

The podium celebration commences, and I tune it out. Christian comes near me with Max in tow, so I plaster on a smile.

"Congratulations, pretty boy," I say when Christian deposits my fake boyfriend in front of me. If I knew better I would've thought he winced slightly. "You won, again."

"Of course I did. And by over 20 seconds, might I add," he snaps. His annoyance fades into resignation. "Christian told me to hug you for the cameras, so. . ."

I sigh at his ridiculousness. "Hug me, don't make it weird." So he does. It's light and entirely for show, but I hear a few cameras click vaguely. I'm used to that sound, they follow me around like ghosts.

Max leaves just as quickly as he came, off to do interview duties and other requirements. I sigh and go back to the hotel in my private car. I use a discrete one no one knows about because of my paranoia, my father's insistence, and the media's need for gossip and drama.

The ride is pretty bland, and I spend the entire time scrolling through a few texts and emails. Friends text me every so often, but I usually ignore them. I don't have the energy to respond honestly.

My car stops in front of the hotel, and I quickly get to inside, trying to ignore the paparazzi swarming the entrance. They like to stalk around the driver's hotels, which is unfortunate for me.

"Is that Natalia?"

"Natalia, when are you going to get a career?"

"Natalia, what are you doing here?"

"Didn't she just break up with that one guy?"

My heart pounds at the onslaught of questions, and I only hear a few ones.

Once inside my hotel room, I sink to the floor. Although I ate the apple, I still feel tired and sapped of energy. I change from my presentable clothes into something more casual before sprawling onto the crisp sheets of the hotel bed.

~

I don't realize I've slept for hours until I wake up, and the sunset is fading into darkness. I feel groggy and tired, but a little bit better.