Finding Home - an f1 romance

chapter 18

Max Verstappen (POV): (TW: $elf h@rm, $h thoughts)
Another weekend without pole. First Monaco, then Canada, and now Spain. What a wonderful way to start the exhausting triple header ahead of me.

I smile for the cameras and congratulate Lando for his pole, and while the congratulations are genuine, the rest is performative. Terror is eating me up on the inside. My father won't be pleased at all, especially since I was 0.020 from pole. You're a champion, act like it! Hundreds of his words fill my mind, is degrading criticisms getting to my head.

Not good enough.

Not good enough.

You're not good enough!

Swallowing, I run a hand through my hair after I finish up the post-qualifying interview.

"You alright, mate?" Lando asks from behind me, catching up so we were walking side by side.

Nodding, I take a deep breath and put on a smile. "Yup, all good. Congratulations, though! You deserve it, Lan." I give his shoulder a soft squeeze to show my support, something that I know he lets people do. Much like me, he's not a huge fan of physical contact, but these shoulder squeezes are perfectly okay. I learned this after watching Carlos do it while they were teammates in McLaren, so I do it, too. Just so he's comfortable.

"Thanks," he says, biting his lip and looking away temporarily.

My head tilts to the side slightly. "What's wrong?"

Lando takes a deep breath, shrugging. "I just hope I don't fuck up the start, like always."

"Hey, you're going to do great." Lando looks at me, uncertainty in his eyes. He still nods, offering a tiny smile that I know isn't genuine. "Seriously, I'm not lying," I reassure him. "I get it, it's . . . nerve wracking sometimes."

He scoffs. "But you're Max Verstappen, I'm just little Lando who just can't do it." His shoulders slump slightly. "You're pretty much always on pole, you pretty much always have perfect starts, you're incredibly skilled, Max. Don't let anyone tell you differently because, fuck, you're crazy."

My heart twists. Not good enough. Not talented enough. Not perfect enough. "I'm far from perfect," I admit. "I have to work incredibly hard, not saying you don't! I know you do!" I rush to say. "It's not like I naturally got like this. Ask Natalia, I spend hours upon hours on the sim."

Finally, something positive shines in Lando's eyes, distracting him from the negativity he gives to himself.

With eyebrows raising suggestively, he jokes, "Yeah, I'll go ask your girl, then." I laugh quietly, happy that he's focusing on something else now. "When did that even start?"

Because the whole world hates me and I needed an image cleanse. Because Christian was pissed about my disappearance over the winter break and wanted to "punish" me somehow. Because Lia was involved in a horrible media incident that wasn't even her fault.

Instead of saying any of this, I simply lie. "We met through a few mutual friends while she was in Monaco over the winter break. Met her at a party and we talked from there."

Lando frowns, brows furrowing with confusion. "Party? Over the break?" Shit. "But, you didn't go to any parties, did you? Again, like, a lot of us have told you many times, you literally disappeared from the Earth during the break." I swallow nervously. "You're telling me when you said no to our invitations to go to parties, you actually were spending time with your girlfriend?"

Thank. Fuck. Lando didn't catch on to my lie, instead believing something else that could technically be true.

I shrug, feigning a nonchalant look. "I won't answer to that."