midnight rain [f. colapinto]

s e v e n t e e n

Evita didn't have to look up to know when Franco joined her in the meeting room. She could feel the charisma enter the room with him, suffocating her. Or maybe it was the smell of his cologne invading her senses.

He'd showered recently, his curly brown hair still damp and messy. He was wearing a clean black t-shirt and jeans. Evita hated to admit it, but he looked nice.

"Hey, Beautiful," said Franco, taking a seat across from Evita.

"Don't call me that," said Evita, texting Carmen and Logan to let them know Franco was here and she was no longer able to talk.

"I brought you a coffee."

He slid a plastic cup of iced coffee across the table. Evita cautiously peered over the screen of her laptop. Her gaze slid up to meet Franco's.

"Iced latte with hazelnut and almond milk," he said. "I hope that's okay."

Evita had to force herself to keep from smiling. He remembered her coffee order, even six years later.

"Thank you," murmured Evita, sliding the cup closer to her.

She distracted herself from his gaze boring into her by moving her laptop closer to her and pulling her bottle of hand sanitizer out of her purse. She squeezed a little into her palm and rubbed her hands together. The familiar stinging sensation in her nail beds brought her down to earth, the repetitive motion of her hands bringing comfort.

"What are we discussing today, boss?" asked Franco, taking a sip of his own drink.

"Your recent behavior in interviews," said Evita, switching to English.

"Why are you speaking English?" asked Franco, still speaking their native language.

"Just trying something new," said Evita.

"But I'm bad at speaking it, Evita," complained Franco.

"I think practice will make it easier," said Evita. "Besides, most of your media duties will be with English speakers."

She chose to omit the other reason she was speaking their second language: Franco would have a harder time coming up with cheeky remarks.

"Fine," said Franco, finally switching languages.

"Earlier today, that was unacceptable," began Evita. "Sorry, that was a bit harsh. Not ideal."

Franco nodded in agreement.

"And I'm sorry for yelling at you, that was incredibly unprofessional," she said. "But you need to understand that keeping collected during interviews is exactly what you should be doing right now. You're new around here, so you don't have the space to joke around yet. Those aren't my rules, that's just the way things go in this paddock. We have media training for a reason."

"I understand," said Franco. "No more jokes."

"Not exactly," backtracked Evita. "You can still be yourself, but focus. Try to keep conversations about performance and goals. Racing only. You can't keep getting distracted. We'll spend time practicing possible responses, if you need."

Franco's mouth twitched into a faint smile, as if he wanted to tell a joke, but he remained unnaturally silent.

"Wow, I thought you'd have at least something dumb to say," said Evita. "I'm impressed."

"Maybe you're rubbing off on me," said Franco.

"Ew. Anyway, let's get to work," said Evita.

She opened a document on her laptop, one containing a list of sample interview questions.