𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐈 | 𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔

𝐗𝐗𝐈

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March 2nd 2023

ZAHRA NICHOLS

The first race of the season was finally here, and the paddock was buzzing. Media Day at the Bahrain Grand Prix was always a whirlwind, with journalists and photographers all over the place, trying to do their jobs and push themselves at the drivers.

Keir and I walked through the paddock, weaving between engineers, team members, and other reporters. Our assignment of the day was to interview the drivers from different teams, starting with Mercedes.

"Alright, Nichols," Keir said, scanning the schedule on his phone. "We're supposed to meet Hamilton and Russell at the Mercedes hospitality in ten minutes."

"Got it," I replied, adjusting my press badge. 

As we approached the sleek, silver Mercedes unit, I couldn't help but feel just a little too excited. This was the start of my dream job, and I was going to make the most of it. The hospitality area was bustling, team personnel moving with purpose, and the smell of fresh coffee mingling with the scent of new car tires.

We were greeted by a PR representative who led us to a small, shaded area where the drivers were waiting. Lewis Hamilton, dressed in his team gear, flashed his signature smile as we approached. George Russell, looking equally professional, gave us a nod.

It was one of those interviews that weren't one-on-one. You know, the ones you'd see clips of all the time usually on social media. A driver seated in the middle, surrounded by a circle of reporters. Phones and recording devices cluttered the table in front of him, capturing every word, every inflection of his voice.

Keir and I took turns asking questions, covering topics from the upcoming race to their thoughts on the new regulations. After wrapping up the interview, we thanked them and moved on to our next assignment.

As we made our way to the Red Bull hospitality, Keir glanced at me with a grin. "You're handling this like a pro, Nichols."

"Thanks, Walsh," I said, feeling a bit more confident. "You're not too bad yourself."

We continued our rounds, interviewing drivers from McLaren, Alpine, and Aston Martin. Each interview brought had its own stuff, but the most nerve-wracking one was yet to come.

"Alright, next up is Ferrari," Keir said, checking the time. "We have to interview Leclerc and Sainz."

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of Charles' name. The memory of seeing him in the hotel lobby was still fresh in my mind, but I remembered I prepared for this. This time, I wouldn't see him by chance, only because I'll be doing my job. Still, there was this uncertainty of how I would react, or worse, how he would react, in the back of my mind.

"Let's get this over with," I muttered under my breath, trying to calm down my nerves. I planned to follow whatever approach Charles went for. If he wanted to make it obvious we've met before, I'd go with that. If he wanted to act as complete strangers, I'd go with that too. 

We made our way to the Ferrari hospitality area, a bright red unit that stood out against the black and gray colors of the paddock. As we approached, the PR representative led us through a maze of people in red and equipment to a more private section. There, under the shade of an awning, sat Charles and Carlos, in a light conversation.