Y/N strolled through the narrow streets of Barcelona, her camera slung across her shoulder and a sense of freedom in her steps. She had been living in the city for two years now, documenting its vibrancy and culture for her travel blog. It was a weekend like any other for her—wandering the hidden corners of the city, capturing its heart.
Except this weekend, Barcelona was different. The Formula 1 circus had rolled into town for the Spanish Grand Prix, and the city buzzed with excitement. F1 fans from around the world crowded the streets, dressed in their favorite team colors, chanting for their drivers, and filling up every café and plaza.
Y/N, however, didn’t care much for Formula 1. She’d never understood the obsession. Sure, she liked fast cars, but a whole sport dedicated to it? Seemed a bit much. Still, she couldn’t deny the energy around her. It was contagious.
As she made her way down a quieter alley, hoping to escape the throng of tourists for a moment, she noticed a figure at the far end of the street. A tall guy in a cap and sunglasses, looking around like he didn’t quite know where he was. Y/N raised an eyebrow. He didn’t seem like your typical lost tourist—something about the way he carried himself, like he was used to being in control.
She hesitated for a second before approaching him. “Hey, you look a little out of place. Need directions?”
The man turned toward her, pulling off his sunglasses, and Y/N froze for a second.
It was Max Verstappen.
She knew his face from the billboards that had been plastered all over the city for race weekend. The reigning Formula 1 World Champion, the one who everyone was talking about, standing right in front of her, looking… lost.
Max smiled, clearly picking up on her recognition. “Yeah, I could use some help. My team was supposed to meet me at some café, but I think I took a wrong turn somewhere.”
Y/N blinked, processing what was happening. She wasn’t a racing fan, but she knew how big a deal Max Verstappen was. Still, she pushed the awe aside and nodded, pulling out her phone to check the map. “Which café?”
He told her the name, and Y/N chuckled. “That’s halfway across the city from here. No wonder you’re lost.”
Max groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Of course. I should’ve stuck with the car.”
“You really want to draw that kind of attention?” Y/N asked with a smirk, imagining the mob scene that would ensue if Max Verstappen drove through the narrow streets of Barcelona in his F1 car.
“Good point,” Max said, laughing lightly. “Mind pointing me in the right direction? I’d hate to be late for my own team’s meeting.”
Y/N hesitated. “I can do better than that. How about I show you around? You’ve got some time before you need to be there, right?”
Max raised an eyebrow, surprised by the offer. “You want to give me a tour?”
“Why not? You’re already lost,” Y/N shrugged. “Besides, you’ve probably only seen the city from the racetrack. I can show you the real Barcelona.”
Max paused, looking at her with genuine interest. “Alright, deal. Lead the way.”
As they walked, Y/N pointed out some of her favorite hidden gems—tiny bakeries that only locals knew, alleyways with street art that told the story of Barcelona’s rich history. They passed through small squares where elderly men played chess, and Y/N explained the significance of the architecture, the culture, and the lifestyle that made the city unique.
Max listened, occasionally asking questions, but mostly just absorbing the city around him. Y/N noticed how different he seemed from the fierce competitor she’d heard about. There was no intensity in his eyes here, no fierce determination. Just curiosity.
“So, you really don’t watch Formula 1?” Max asked after a while, breaking the silence.
Y/N shook her head. “Not really. I mean, I’ve seen some highlights, and I get why people love it. But it’s not really my thing.”
Max chuckled. “That’s refreshing, actually. Most people I meet either want to talk about racing or ask for an autograph.”
“Not my style,” Y/N said, grinning. “Besides, you probably get enough of that.”
“More than you’d think,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “It’s nice to just… be a normal person for once.”
They continued walking, and Y/N could feel the conversation becoming more comfortable, more natural. They talked about travel—Max’s endless touring across countries for races, and Y/N’s blog documenting her journey across Europe. It turned out they had more in common than either expected. They both lived out of suitcases, constantly moving from one place to another, but for entirely different reasons.
“So, what’s the hardest part of what you do?” Y/N asked as they reached a quiet park overlooking the city.
Max thought for a moment. “The pressure, I guess. Everyone expects you to win all the time. There’s no room for mistakes, and if you do mess up, the whole world knows about it.”
Y/N nodded. “I can imagine. It must be hard to switch off.”
Max glanced at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It is. But days like today help. Thanks for this, by the way.”
Y/N shrugged, smiling. “I figured you needed a break from all the madness.”
As they stood there, overlooking the city, Y/N realized how surreal the whole situation was. She was spending the afternoon with one of the most famous athletes in the world, and yet it felt like she was just hanging out with a friend. The city felt different too—more alive, like it was breathing with them.
After a while, Max glanced at his watch and sighed. “I should probably get back to my team before they send out a search party.”
Y/N laughed. “Yeah, I don’t want to be responsible for you missing your meeting.”
They started walking back toward the main road, and for the first time, Max seemed to slow down, like he wasn’t in such a hurry to leave.
“You know,” Max said as they reached the busy streets again, “if you ever decide to give F1 a chance, let me know. I can get you tickets to any race you want.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow, amused. “Are you trying to convert me into a fan?”
Max grinned. “Maybe. But I’d settle for you just coming to one race. You might be surprised.”
Y/N thought about it for a second. “Alright, I’ll think about it. But only if you promise not to get lost in the city again.”
“Deal,” Max said, offering his hand in a mock-serious handshake. “Thanks again, Y/N. This was exactly what I needed.”
With that, Max put his sunglasses back on and disappeared into the crowd, blending in with the sea of people once again. Y/N stood there for a moment, watching him go, the absurdity of the day settling in.
As she headed home, Y/N couldn’t help but smile. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever take Max up on his offer to attend a race, but she knew one thing for certain: she’d never see Formula 1—or the city of Barcelona—the same way again.
