FAIR WARNING BEFORE YOU GET INTO THIS—IT'S REALLY LONG FOR NO REASON AT ALL. IT'S BASICALLY JUST FLUFF AND RACE CARS AND A LITTLE BIT OF SMUT, BUT IF YOU'RE THE KIND OF READER THAT READS EVERY SINGLE PARAGRAPH, THEN YOU'RE AUTOMATICALLY MY FAVOURITE READER. ENJOY!
LOUIS
"You're P4," Zayn says. "Niall is a second behind you."
He manages to get up on my right, but I hold my position as we round a turn. He can't quite get around me, but that won't stop him from attempting it.
"He's gonna run me off."
Zayn remains quiet in my ear. He can sense it as well as I can. Whenever we're not competing, we're great friends, but no one enjoys racing against him. He makes contact on our next turn, bad enough to run me off as expected. My car spins in response, 360 prior to crashing into a wall.
"You okay?"
I breathe in to contain my anger, hands tight on my steering wheel. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm sorry, guys."
"Wasn't your fault."
"Fuck."
I manage to get out of my car and get my helmet off. I tug my balaclava off and step away from my car, cursing Niall Horan straight to hell. There are only 5 laps left once I'm back in our garage, so my only plan is to see where Harry ends up. I peel off my gloves and unzip my suit, pushing it down to my waist as I watch Harry move up to P2.
There's inter-team rivalry at most teams. It isn't personal, not always, but you are rivals. Drivers are trying to defend whatever position they're in even when it means potentially ruining a teammate's chances at overtaking you or getting to a good position in general. And I get it. Before my former teammate was replaced, it was mostly tense between us, because being on a team doesn't mean it is a team sport.
As a team, we want enough points to win a Constructors Championship, but that isn't what matters most when we're racing. We want it, yes, but we want points for ourselves more, to concentrate on our own points to potentially win a World Championship. The concept of "teammates" isn't meaningful, not in any way you'd normally consider it. It scarcely exists in a normal sense, nor am I sure it ever will in this sport.
Harry is essentially my biggest rival when we're racing, but I also intend to marry him. That matters. A good relationship as teammates matters in our case, and we're lucky we haven't permitted any animosity. We haven't given racing a chance to ruin our relationship, just as we haven't given our relationship a chance to ruin our racing.
We work well as teammates and as boyfriends. I want him to perform well. He wants me to perform well. But we understand that we can't make competing personal. If one of us can get around and snatch ourselves a position that was previously the others, no one is going to get angry or resentful. We're in it to win. That's our main and most important agreement.
"He's P1," someone shouts. "He's gonna take it!"
I grin in response. He's going to win. When we're not both in top 3, we're not seeing one another right away. I normally give Harry space to enjoy his win, especially when I need a moment to mourn my own DNF. He's urged towards a podium soon anyway, which means staying around afterward to participate in interviews and what-not.
He's drenched in champagne when he comes back, giggling upon seeing me. There's a hint of worry in his expression, too, hands cupping my face, eyes searching mine.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I say, grinning as I grasp his wrists. "You were great."
"I had hoped you were gonna be next to me," he says, pressing his forehead against mine. "I'm sorry you were forced to stop."
