𝑪𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 ★ 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓁ℯ𝓈 ℒℯ𝒸𝓁ℯ𝓇𝒸

𝑰𝑽.

𝑱𝒂𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆 ❀

★★★

I arrive at the Bahrain International Circuit and step out of my taxi. Immediately cameras flash and reporters start talking and shouting at me. I blink a few times, still pretty overwhelmed by the cameras.

I smile at the reporters while they make pictures, and I can hear some of them shouting out annoying questions, which I ignore.

“JasBee!” A familiar voice calls out.

I turn around to see Alex walking over to me.

“Alex, I haven't seen you in a while!” I smile as he reaches me, cameras still flashing around us and making pictures of our greeting.

He gives me a side hug and I bump his fist. “Yeah, it's been a month.” Alex says sarcastically.

“Yeah I'm doing really good, actually, thanks for asking.” I smile back sarcastically.

Alex laughs and shakes his head.
That's just when Max Verstappen arrives. He walks over to us and greets Alex.

“Good to see you, mate.” Max says.

“You too,” Alex says before turning to me. “I present you the first female driver on the grid since a few decades: Jasmine Beek!”

I roll my eyes playfully at Alex before turning to Max with a smile and holding out my hand for him to shake. “Het is een eer om je eindelijk te ontmoeten,” I say in Dutch. “Ik vraag me af hoe we elkaar nog niet eerder hebben ontmoet, aangezien ik vaker naar races van Alex ben gekomen.”

(“It's an honor to finally meet you, I wonder how we haven't met before considering I have been to Alex's races quite often.”)

“Oh,” Max says, looking rather surprised for a second. “Ik was even vergeten dat je half Nederlands bent.” He laughs and I laugh along with him. His handshake is firm, I observe.

(“Oh, I forgot for a moment that you're half dutch.”)

“Niet erg,” I smile.

(“It's okay/no problem,” [can be both])

Alex clears his throat. “Can we speak in English, please?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Right, sorry.” I laugh, switching back to English for Alex.

“Jasmine,” An Australian accent says from behind me.

I turn around to see Oscar. “Osc! Hi!” I say happily.

The four of us chat for a minute longer until we realise we need to get going, and we walk to the garages.

★𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒑 𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒘 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔★

I'm in one of the conference rooms and there's a whole swarm of reporters and cameramen in front of me, talking to each other and getting ready to ask questions.

On my left side sits Oscar, and somehow I ended up with Charles Leclerc sitting on my right.

“Nice to finally meet you, Jasmine,” Charles says with his Monégasque accent.

“You too!” I smile, not sure whether my awkwardness is overwhelming me or whether I'm happy and honoured to meet him. I can feel myself cringing on the inside as hesitantly hold out my hand for him to shake. He smiles, clearly also feeling awkward, and shakes my hand. I notice his handshake is also firm, but then again mine is pretty firm too.

The room goes quiet. I realise it's time for the conference and I retreat my hand.

“A question for you, Jasmine,” One reporter says as he looks at me. “How do you feel about being the first woman on the grid since a long time?” The young guy asks.

I knew this was going to be the first question.

“It feels great, actually. I'm really happy I made it to F1, and I'm glad that also means there's a woman on the grid again.” I say, short but honest.

The reporter nods, before an older woman speaks up. “Could you tell us what the reason is for your abrupt breakup with your ex-boyfriend, Nick Brouwer?”

Shit. I was hoping there would be more time for me to mentally prepare myself before someone asked this question.

“Uhm,” I stammer.

Shit, shit, shit. This is not going to look good for me. It looks like I can't handle more than one question, can't handle any pressure.

I feel my insides twisting as I furiously try to tame my mind, but it does whatever it wants.

A white flash before my eyes. Bang, a door slamming. Muffled shouting in the back of my mind. Fear. Slap, stinging pain. Anger, but there's overpowering fear. Tears. More shouting. Slap, my cheek.

“Jasmine?” Someone's hand on my shoulder. I'm struggling to get out of my daze.

“Jasmine??”
Snap, back to reality.

I blink a few times, flustered as the white light before my eyes fades and I slowly come back to reality in the press conference room.

Oscar's hand is on my shoulder.

I'm worried for a second that I might've cried while in my daze, but I'm not going to reach out to feel my cheeks, and I don't think I actually did cry.

“Oh, uhm- I'm sorry, zoned out for a minute.” I smile apologetically as I lie to the reporters and cameras.

I can feel Oscar's confused and concerned gaze trying to look through my mask, but I refuse to meet his eyes and he slowly drops his hand from my shoulder.

“Let's move on, should we?” One of the other reporters says. I nod and they quickly move to ask Oscar questions next, as if leaving me alone for a moment to collect myself.

I feel heavily embarrassed. I completely blew my first F1 press conference. I bite my lip and stare at the ground, zoned out as my mind races with thoughts.