There's Twice as Many Stars as Usual| L.S

10

Charlotte

I wake up the next morning to find Mick already gone, just like last weekend, leaving me to get an Uber to the track. Climbing out of the comfortable bed, I grab a pair of jeans, a nice top, and Mick's Mercedes jacket, which he's been letting me wear.

After a quick shower, I change into my outfit, dry my hair, and pack my mini backpack with my wallet and a few other necessities. With my paddock pass around my neck, I order an Uber and head to the lobby.

The ride to the track is a blur. When I reach the paddock, I scan my pass and hastily walk to the Mercedes garage, eager to dive back into the race weekend.

I settle into the back of the garage, observing the flurry of activity as everyone prepares for qualifying. The atmosphere is charged with a mix of tension and excitement, the air thick with the smell of fuel and the sound of engines revving. Engineers huddle over laptops, analyzing data, while mechanics make last-minute adjustments to the cars.

Mick catches my eye and gives me a reassuring nod before turning back to his duties. I put on my headphones, immersing myself in the team's radio communications. As the drivers head out onto the track, the intensity in the garage ramps up. Every lap, every sector time is crucial, and I find myself gripping the edge of my seat, silently willing them to succeed.

Q3 ends and Logan qualifies 20th, a tough blow considering it's his home race. My heart races with empathy for him, so I pull out my phone and text him:

"Hey Logan! I saw your driving out there. You did your best. If you want to talk, just text me. - Char char <3"

As Q2 starts, I can't help but think about how Logan must feel. I watch as George and Lewis drive, and my heart sinks when Lewis gets knocked out of Q2, ending up in 13th place.

When Q3 begins, the tension is palpable. The session progresses, and George manages to secure 6th place. I congratulate the boys, giving George a supportive smile and a thumbs-up. Yet, my thoughts keep drifting back to Logan, worrying about how he's handling the disappointment.

The team begins to wrap up for the day, the mechanics and engineers buzzing with activity as they prepare the cars for tomorrow's race. I glance at my phone, hoping for a response from Logan. Seeing nothing yet, I decide to head over to the Williams garage to check on him.

As I approach the Williams hospitality area, I spot Logan sitting alone, staring blankly at the data screens in front of him. Taking a deep breath, I walk over and gently place a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," I say softly, trying to offer a comforting smile. "You did your best out there. Want to talk about it?"

Logan looks up, his eyes filled with frustration and disappointment. "I thought I had a good lap in Q1, but it just didn't come together," he says, his voice tinged with dejection. "It's hard not to feel like I let everyone down, especially here at my home race."

I sit down next to him, offering a supportive presence. "You're an incredible driver, Logan. Sometimes things don't go as planned, but that doesn't define your talent or your potential. Tomorrow's a new day, and you'll have another chance to show everyone what you can do."

He nods slowly, taking in my words. "Thanks, Char. It means a lot to have you here."

We sit in comfortable silence for a while, the noise of the paddock fading into the background. Despite the challenges of the day, there's a sense of support that gives us both a bit of comfort.

Eventually, I head back to the Mercedes garage, my mind more at ease knowing that Logan has found a bit of solace. As the sun sets over the circuit, I feel a renewed sense of hope for tomorrow's race.

"Ready to head out?" Mick questions me.

I nod, and we head to the rental Mercedes he's been driving all week. The drive back to the hotel is quiet, the day's events weighing heavily on both of us. Once we arrive, we head up to our room and immediately order room service.

As we wait for our food, Mick sprawls out on one of the beds, scrolling through his phone. I take the opportunity to change into something more comfortable, swapping my jeans for a pair of cozy sweatpants and a T-shirt. The familiarity of the routine is comforting, a small reprieve from the high-stakes world of racing.

The food arrives, and we dig in, the meal a welcome distraction from the day's stresses. We chat idly about the race, the strategies for tomorrow, and even a few light-hearted jokes to lift our spirits. Despite everything, Mick's presence is a grounding force, reminding me of the support defines our friendship.

As the evening wears on, exhaustion begins to take its toll. I find myself struggling to keep my eyes open, the day's emotions and activities catching up with me. I settle into bed, the soft sheets and pillows a welcome relief. Mick switches off the lights, and the room plunges into a soothing darkness. The hum of the air conditioning and the distant sounds of the city lull me into a peaceful slumber.

Just before I drift off completely, my phone buzzes with a message. I glance at it, seeing Logan's name on the screen.

"Thanks for being there today. I really needed that. Goodnight, Char."

I smile at the message, a sense of calm washing over me. With a contented sigh, I place my phone on the nightstand and close my eyes, ready to face whatever tomorrow brings