Ghost of You

1.

'So won't you stay for a moment? So I can say I, I need you so.'

July 7, 2024
England

The grid was scorching. England's usually consistent cold weather was no where to be felt. There were too many people, too many engines radiating hotter than the sun, and too many reporters with their meaningless hot breath.

Max stood on a red-velvet cloth, awaiting the national anthem. His sky blue eyes scanned the crowd like a hawk, trying to find the one face he wanted to see. The one girl he wanted to talk to. The one girl he wanted in every aspect of his life. This was his chance to mend things, to admit that he'd always had feelings for her, no matter if he said otherwise those many months before.

A fellow racer, George, who happened to be the brother of this so-important girl, walked by with his head held high. It was his home race and every driver knew how important those were. Charles Leclerc had just won his own a month or so prior and he still couldn't shut up about it, even if Max told him too.

Max didn't need to distract him, not when George was focused on the title- especially being first on pole.

But the Dutchman couldn't find his one-true-love and that was a priority over the Mercedes mindset. Max grabbed onto the lanky man's wrist, clutching his fingers around his athletic sleeve. George stumbled to a halt, glancing over at Max with a frown. "Mate, the anthem is about to start."

"I know." Max groaned, letting go of his semi-friend's wrist.

They were all friends on the grid, for the most part, but they were all competitors too.

Even teammates.

Max grew up thinking everyone was a threat and learned that from his dad, so when the other boys in karting wanted to invite him over to hang out... he thought it was a setup. It took awhile for him to warm up to the others, but now he could say he had a few good friends on the grid.

Things were complicated with George, because Max was in love with his younger sister.

"Is Hannah here? I haven't seen her."

George held his bright blue and black helmet in his other hand. His knuckles gripped onto the visor hard, showing how his skin turned to a ghostly white. "She's running late. She was filming late last night and woke up late."

Max let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in. He could've texted her himself... but they hadn't talked much. Not since Hannah confessed she was also in love with Max and he clammed up. He had left her standing in shock, talking out of his ass how he didn't feel the same way- all because he was scared.

He was terrified by how much he loved her.

He'd been in love with her since they were kids. He'd watched her date different actors and co-stars that all looked so... pretty boy.

So perfect.

He was an athlete. He had bruises all the time and he never thought of himself as very attractive- in the way society thought Charles was a Godsend, for example.

How could he ever date such a beautiful goddess? He'd let months go by, completely and utterly silent. George definitely must've heard the news because he'd been like a passive-aggressive pain in the ass ever since. Always shooting him dagger eyes and furiously driving behind him like a maniac. Max was tired of all of it.

He loves Hannah.

He thought of George as a pretty good friend.

He wanted them all to get along and for Hannah and himself to live happily ever after.