CALL YOUR MOM | ln4

three.

{ jonesy }

"But you made it?"

I nodded, forgetting that Ruthie couldn't see me through our phone call. "Yes! And first class? I still can't believe it." My phone was tucked between my cheek and shoulder as I deboarded the plane.

For some reason, Mclaren booked me a first-class plane ticket for the nearly 7-hour flight to Bahrain. I was shocked, to say the least when I was told at the ticket counter. I've never even flown business class, only ever economy – that's if we were lucky enough to be able to afford plane tickets. This is a whole new world to me.

Ruthie's sweet laugh poured through the phone, "Well, you do work for a Formula 1 team, I would expect that they'd want you to travel comfortably."

I quietly thanked the flight attendant and stepped off onto the jet bridge so I could make my way to customs – hopefully, that didn't take too long, my stomach was already growling. It was only around 6:30pm here, 4:30 back home, so I'm not sure why I was so hungry.

Maybe it was the plane.

"But I'm just the photographer."

"Yeah, but a photographer that their drivers love, from what I'm hearing." Ruthie rebutted.

My cheeks flushed with a deep blush.

When I got home on Friday, I'm pretty sure I recounted every moment of the day to Ruthie as my daily debrief. She seemed rather interested, but I'm pretty sure I told her that I was convinced that Oscar and Lando really liked me at least 7 times. I'm surprised she didn't get tired of hearing me talk about it that evening. And the next two days.

I enjoyed the first day of my job probably more than anyone ever had. Being a professional photographer and working for some sort of sports team had always been a dream of mine and it had finally come true.

I had also managed to have both Lando and Oscar follow me on instagram and repost my post to their stories, helping me gain thousands of followers. All on my first day of work.

"I guess it makes sense."

Customs took far longer than I feel like it should've.

Granted, it was probably only 30 minutes, but my need for food has only continued to grow. I swear my stomach grumbled every 5 minutes now.

My feet were dragging by the time I reached baggage claim. Thankfully, there was a woman – who looked to be just a tad older than me – wearing a Mclaren polo and dress pants, waiting near the luggage carousel where my suitcase was meant to be at. Looking from her outfit to mine – leggings and a jumper – I felt majorly underdressed.

"I'm Adeline, you must be Jonesy." The woman smiled, her strawberry blonde hair tied back in a bun.

I nodded, reaching out to shake her outstretched hand. "And you work in–"

"Communications." She smiled, taking my suitcase from me as I pulled it off the carousel. "You're part of the media division of Mclaren, but the Communications department likes to stake claim over you all."

I nodded again, following her toward the door of the airport. I'm thankful that she has the energy to be the leader of our conversation. I think I used all of my energy on the flight. Maybe I should've slept instead of read an entire book? Starting tomorrow we have pre-season testing, then we're non-stop for three days before a slight break and the opening Grand Prix of the season next week.

It was going to be a lot.

"Our driver is waiting outside." She gestured to the door as we walked through it, "I'm your point person while you're at Grand Prix's, by the way."