Breaking the Grid

Podium

After the race, Blair Becks was on cloud nine, her face still glowing from the thrill of standing on the podium and the sticky remnants of champagne. It had been a chaotic whirlwind—flashing cameras, deafening cheers, the cool weight of the trophy in her hand. She'd worked hard for that podium finish, and every second of the race had been a test of her skill. But amidst the celebrations, Lando Norris, always full of energy, was starting to get under her skin.

Lando bounded over, his smile wide and unrelenting, waving a half-empty bottle of champagne. "Becks! That was crazy! You were amazing out there!"

Blair managed a smile, though exhaustion was beginning to seep in. "Thanks, Lando. It was a tough race."

He leaned in, his excitement palpable. "You know what? We're having this massive party tonight! You have to come. It's going to be wild!"

Blair hesitated, glancing at her phone buzzing non-stop with congratulatory messages. "I'm really beat, Lando. I think I just need to rest."

Lando nudged her playfully, refusing to let up. "Come on, Becks! You can't let this win go without celebrating. You've got to party with us!"

She shook her head, trying to sound firmer. "I've got an early flight to London tomorrow morning. I really need to get some sleep."

Lando's grin faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered with a light chuckle. "Alright, alright. Next time, then! But don't forget, the offer stands. You owe us a night out, Becks!"

Blair smiled gratefully, giving him a quick nod. "Next time, for sure."

As Lando bounced away to rejoin the others, Blair let out a long sigh, relieved to escape the pressure to join the party. She still had media obligations to finish before she could head back to her room.

Hours later, finally done with the endless questions and flashing cameras, Blair dragged herself to her hotel room, utterly exhausted but still clutching her trophy. Unlocking the door, she stepped inside, the weight of everything catching up to her. She paused, glancing down at the gleaming trophy in her hand, and couldn't help but feel a surge of pride.

It was beautiful—sleek silver, with intricate engravings that seemed to catch the dim light of the room and shimmer. The base had her name and race details, and Blair could almost see her reflection in its polished surface. She ran her fingers over its smooth curves, admiring it as she set it gently on the small table near the door. For a moment, she just stood there, staring at it.

Her mind drifted back to her karting days, when she was just a kid with big dreams. She'd always been sharp, competitive, and determined to push harder. Every win back then felt like a stepping stone to something bigger, and now here she was—holding her first F1 podium trophy. It felt surreal, like she was still the little girl on the karting track, fighting for every inch.

But just as she was lost in thought, feeling the weight of her hard-earned victory, she felt a hand on her back. Startled, she turned around to see one of the team members standing there, holding out her phone.

"Congrats, Blair," he said with a smile. "By the way, your phone's been going crazy."

Blair blinked and took her phone from him, noticing 16 missed notifications from Kimi. Before she could say anything, the guy was already walking away. She muttered a quick thank you before looking back down at the phone.

As she turned to the bathroom, ready to finally clean up, her phone buzzed again. This time it wasn't Kimi—it was Kyra. Blair hesitated for a moment before answering, her heart skipping a beat. Kyra wasn't the type to make the first move, and Blair liked that she had.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Becks," came Kyra's playful voice on the other end.

Blair smiled, her mood instantly lifting. "Oh, we're going with last names now, huh? Cooney-Cross?"

Kyra laughed softly. "Well, you've been busy being a superstar. I figured I'd keep it formal."

Blair chuckled, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. "Yeah, I'm practically soaked in champagne right now. Not the best look."

"I can imagine," Kyra teased. "My day was a bit of a mess, too. Training was intense—Jonas kept pushing us harder than usual. I was nearly ready to collapse by the end. Caitlin was nice enough to drop me off at home, though, so I'm finally able to relax."

Blair winced sympathetically. "Sounds rough. I hope you're taking it easy now."

"Trying to," Kyra said, her tone lightening. "But I can't complain. But at least I'm not stuck dealing with champagne stains like you."

Blair sighed. "Yeah, I'd definitely prefer not to be covered in champagne. Maybe I'll look halfway decent if I shower, do you kid if I call you back after ?"

There was a pause on Kyra's end, and Blair could almost hear her smiling. "No sure go ahead, I'll be waiting for your call. But don't make me wait too long, okay?"

Blair felt a flutter in her chest. "Oh, and by the way... I'm flying back to London tomorrow. Staying for a couple of days. Would you maybe want to go out with me while I'm there?"

Kyra's response was immediate, filled with warmth. "That sounds fantastic! But maybe make sure you're not drenched in champagne before we meet?"

Blair laughed, feeling lighter than she had in a long time. "Deal. I promise I'll be presentable. I'll call you soon."

As she hung up, a wide grin spread across her face. She felt like she was floating—on top of the world from the podium finish and the conversation with Kyra. But just as she turned to head for the bathroom, her door flew open with a loud bang, hitting the wall.

Blair's stomach dropped as she saw her father standing in the doorway, his face twisted with anger.

"What the hell was that last shitty lap you pulled?" he shouted, stepping into the room and slamming the door behind him.

Blair blinked, still trying to process his sudden appearance. "Shitty? Dad, I finished P3! Look at this!" She picked up her trophy and tossed it towards him.

He caught it but didn't even bother to look at it. "And you think that's enough? You think this makes you good enough?" His voice was filled with venom, and before Blair could react, he threw the trophy against the wall, shattering it into pieces.

Blair stared, horrified, at the remains of her trophy. Her throat tightened as tears welled up in her eyes, but she fought them back. She'd hoped, just for a second, that maybe this time her father would be proud. Instead, all she had was broken glass and his disdain.

"I hope you're not going to cry about this," he sneered.

Blair swallowed hard, fury rising inside her, but she stayed quiet, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

He gave her one last cold look. "Pick it up. I don't want anyone to get hurt." Then he turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

Blair stood there for a moment, staring at the mess on the floor. Tears finally slipped down her cheeks, but she quickly wiped them away. Her father had taught her from a young age—no crying, no complaints. She was tougher than that.

She crouched down, picking up the broken pieces of her trophy, and threw them in the trash. Grabbing her phone, she sent a message, her fingers trembling.

"Still invited to that party?"

She hit send, hoping for some sort of escape from the pain that lingered, both in the room and in her heart.