midnight rain [f. colapinto]

t h i r t y - o n e

The days leading up to the Singapore Grand Prix were spent by Evita and Genevieve exploring the city. The two girls were inseparable, sharing stories about their lives in the paddock, and bonding over shared experiences while marveling at Singapore's vibrant charm.

Afternoons often found them wandering through the Gardens by the Bay, taking in the view from the SkyPark, or posing for photos. In the evenings, they strolled along the river, their laughter carrying through the brightly lit streets.

Genevieve's easygoing nature balanced Evita's lack thereof. Whenever Evita brought up her frustrations, inevitably revolving around Franco, Genevieve would respond with a knowing grin.

One evening over dinner, Genevieve set down her fork and tilted her head, studying the brunette across from her. "Can I ask you something?"

Evita frowned, a little confused. "Of course."

"Ev, for someone who claims to hate Franco, you spend an awful lot of time talking about him."

Evita let out a groan. She pushed her food around her plate, trying to focus her anxious thoughts on something other than their conversation. "I don't even know if I hate him. It's all so confusing. I mean, he's infuriating. Impossible. A complete headache, but-"

Genevieve rested her chin on her hands, looking unconvinced. Her deep brown eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Sounds to me like you're thinking about him even when you don't want to."

Evita glared at her friend, but she was betrayed by the feeling of her face flushing. "He's my client. Of course I think about him. It's my job, Gen."

Genevieve leaned back in her chair. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Evita sighed and changed the subject. "Speaking of people, are you ever going to tell me who you're always texting?"

Genevieve blinked, her usually cheerful expression suddenly unreadable. "What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," said Evita, trying to press her for information without making her uncomfortable. "You've been glued to your phone all week. It's not work, or you'd complain about it."

Genevieve laughed softly. "Maybe I just like keeping my private life private."

Evita raised an eyebrow. That was the confirmation she needed. "So there is someone."

Genevieve shook her head, but the motion was timid, lacking her usual confidence. "There's nothing serious to report, okay? Just early days."

Evita grinned. "I knew it! Well, whoever it is, they're lucky to have your attention."

"Thanks," said Genevieve, visibly relaxing. "And when there's more to tell, you'll be the first to know."

"Perfect," said Evita.

Genevieve hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward, a playful glint in her eyes. "Speaking of things to know, it's your birthday soon, right?"

Evita groaned softly. "Ugh, don't remind me. Alex said he's going to make the entire garage sing for me tomorrow."

"Have fun with that," laughed Genevieve. "Okay but, I think we should go out after the race. Hit a club or something. It'll be fun. You don't turn twenty-two every day, Evita."

"A club? Really?"

The American girl nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! You need a night to let loose. And I think it's a good distraction from certain aggravating individuals. Perhaps an ex-boyfriend?"

Evita rolled her eyes but found herself smiling anyway. "Fine, fine. One condition, though."

"Anything."

"You're buying the drinks."

"Deal."