The bet | Charles Leclerc

• Six •

Sunday

I find Richard by the track, few minutes before the race starts. I had to get away from Leclerc, before I did anything stupid.

And then I had an internal nervous breakdown, causing me to get lost inside this chaotic, and incredibly crowded paddock.

But in the end I found Richard, thankfully.

"Where have you been?" He immediately asks, as I sit down beside him. A huge grin coats his lips as he questions me.

"It's a long story" I answer exhaustingly, unable to stop a small, flushed smile curving up my lips. I look out at the track, distracting myself.

We have the perfect view. We can see the finish line perfectly, meaning we'll get the best view of the start, my favorite part.

"Sure.." Richard responds, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at me. He clearly enjoys all this, laughing as he watches my cheeks flush.

But to my luck, he drops it.

We watch the cars line up on the grid in silence, excitement bubbling in me. My eyes glue to the red Ferrari with the number 16.

It feels crazy that I spoke to him not even half an hour ago, and now he's casually going to drive over 200 miles per hour.

"So, how do you hope the bet goes?" Richard asks, as the formation lap begins. I smile to myself, shaking my head as I watch the cars.

Do I want Leclerc to win, or do I want Max to win?

I have no idea.

"Honestly, I have no preference" I answer truthfully. If I win, we get an interview with Leclerc and a young fan, if he wins we'll get an interview with him and me in a fast car.

To me, I win no matter the outcome.

"You should want Leclerc to win" Richard admits, his eyes following the cars as well.

"Because of the bet?" I question, my brow slightly furrowed in confusion. He thinks I should do the fast lap with Leclerc?

Richard nods firmly, focused on the cars. "His idea would get more attention" He states, scribbling something in his notebook.

Now I'm really confused. Wouldn't people love, Leclerc spending time with someone who deserves it, more?  "Really? Why..?" I ask in a mutter.

Richard turns his gaze to me, a sweet smile coating his lips. "Isa" He says like I'm foolish. "Max Verstappen's little sister and Charles Leclerc." He simply says, raising an eyebrow at me.

He imitates a bomb with his hands, making a big imaginary explosion, sound effects even following. "The internet would blow up." He announces.

I pause, staring at him.

I'd never thought of it like that.

But he's right. To the internet, to everyone, I am just Max's sister. It's correct, Max's sister doing a lap with the famous Charles Leclerc would make the internet go insane.