Thorns

11

March 6th
Saudi Arabian Grand Prix

Lelia Amani

Getting out of bed this morning was particularly difficult. I couldn't fall asleep after all that was said during the press conference last night. I tossed and turned for what felt like hours on end. It was a miracle I eventually did get some sleep, but it couldn't have been any more than four hours.

Sluggishly pulling my sheets off and swinging my legs over the side of the hotel bed, I let out an irritated groan. A minimum of six hours was what I needed to at least tolerate what happens during my day, but since I was below that limit, I knew it was going to be a rough Thursday. Not only that, but I was forcing my body out of bed at five in the morning to meet with Lando in the hotel gym in a half hour.

If there was one thing I shouldn't be doing after getting some of the worst sleep I have gotten in a while, it was going to see the one person in the entire paddock who didn't want me here. The one person who would probably be happier if he never had to see me again.

Standing up and walking into the bathroom, I turned the light on and nearly scared myself with the sight of my hair. It was a mess. Dark circles were under my eyes, I was still half asleep, and I looked like I had rats nesting in my hair.

"Fuck," I mumbled while rubbing my eyes, grabbing my toothbrush and toothpaste and brushing my teeth. My hair was next, picking up my comb to attempt to untangle what I could. I glanced at my makeup bag, but it didn't take much self-convincing to decide not to waste my time. With how little sleep I was running on, there was a good chance I wouldn't even have done it well.

Settling with just rubbing in a light layer of moisturizer, I walked out of the bathroom and over to my suitcase. After shuffling through my clothes for a minute, I chose a pair of black leggings and a gray fitted long-sleeve, topping it off with my favorite white tennis shoes. Not a single sight of the papaya orange could be found in my wardrobe, and I felt off-put because of it.

Sometimes it seemed as if I didn't even work for McLaren since I wasn't allowed to wear any papaya. It was weird, but while I was still under the contract at Red Bull, there wasn't anything I could do until Zak's lawyer terminated it.

After nearly falling over trying to get my leggings up, I yanked on the long-sleeve and slid my tennis shoes on. I grabbed my phone and room key, leaving my room to head to the cafe in hopes of getting a quick breakfast before the workout. Normally I didn't get an appetite for an hour or two after waking up, but I figured I should at least grab something to take with me. With no food, no sleep, and no tolerance for much in my system, it was a recipe for disaster. The least I could do was eliminate one of those options.

I got into the elevator and it took me down six floors to the lobby where the cafe was. Upon arriving, as I would have expected, not many people found themselves desiring breakfast at such an early hour. However, I did see Kim.

"Bon jornu," I smiled. "Er, good morning."

"Morning," she greeted back, grabbing a bowl of what was labeled in English as Banana Masoub. "Are you ready for your first workout with Lando?"

"In all honesty... no," I replied truthfully, grabbing a dish of the same thing. Not that I really knew what Banana Masoub was, but it looked the most like a breakfast dish than the other options. Last time I checked, I didn't consider Hummus as breakfast. "I don't think I got enough sleep to deal with that today."

"I think it'll be okay. Lando isn't as bad as everyone makes him out to be," she shrugged it off, dipping her spoon into the bowl while she stood waiting for me to grab my plastic cutlery so I could take my bowl with me. Now she has been working at McLaren longer than I had been, so she has been around Lando quite a bit more than I had. Nonetheless, I still found myself biting my tongue to keep myself from saying what was on my mind.