Forever and Always | Max Verstappen *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Just a Trophy

Italy 7th March 2019

The moment Max opened his eyes, he felt it—this heavy, gnawing guilt sitting right on his chest.

He replayed every word he'd said to Emma last night, every stupid, impulsive thing that slipped out in the heat of the moment.

He'd been an ass, and he knew it.

Why did he let his frustration take over? Why couldn't he just talk to her like a normal person?

He'd overslept—again—which only made him feel worse.

He was already late, but the only thing he cared about was finding Emma, making things right.

Apologizing.

He threw on a shirt, grabbed his keys, and headed straight to her room.

But when he knocked, there was no answer.

Great.

She was probably already at work.

Maybe she'd left early to avoid him, which, honestly, he couldn't blame her for.

When he got to the paddock, he scanned the whole area for her, his eyes darting around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her brown hair or that familiar, focused look she always wore.

But... nothing. No Emma.

He checked the Red Bull hospitality, the media center, even a few garages he had no business being in.

"Hey, have you seen that journalist who was interviewed me a couple weeks ago? She said she had some follow up questions.... I dont know Emma someone?" he asked one of her colleagues, trying to sound casual.

"No, she hasn't been around this morning," they replied.

His stomach twisted a little tighter.

Where was she?

It wasn't like Emma to just disappear, especially not on a race weekend.

He even checked the grandstands, like maybe she'd taken a quiet corner to escape, but still... nothing.

Finally, he gave up and went back to the garage.

Practice three had started, but he couldn't focus, his mind running through a hundred different worst-case scenarios.

He had a terrible session—his lines were off, his braking was shaky, and his team could see it.

Christian noticed too, of course, and he was waiting by Max's car as he climbed out, looking less than pleased.

Christian pulled him aside, "Max, what's going on with you today? You look completely unfocused out there."

Max hesitated, "I'm... I'm just distracted, that's all. It's nothing."

"Is this about the girl?"

Max blinked, "What? What girl?"

Christian rolled his eyes, "Don't act clueless, Max. The whole paddock's buzzing about you and that American journalist. Emma, isn't it?"

His heart dropped.

How did Christian know about Emma? How did anyone know about Emma?

"What are you talking about?" Max's voice was barely more than a whisper.

Christian sighed, "You might want to check your phone, Max."

Fumbling, Max pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it with shaking hands.