midnight rain [f. colapinto]

t h i r t y - n i n e

Evita adjusted her clipboard, her lips pressed tightly together. She fell into step beside Franco as they left the Williams garage to walk to the media pen. The air was humid, and Franco's curls were plastered to his forehead from sweat. The paddock still buzzed with energy, despite the time.

"Okay," began Evita, her tone professional. "When you get to media pen, you're going to focus on the race. Nothing else."

Franco's head turned slightly. "I know what I'm supposed to say, Evita."

"Do you?" she shot back, her tone sharp as a knife. "Because you never seem to know when to shut up with the reporters."

"I'll just talk about what happened at the start of the race," said Franco.

"Do not bring up what happened with Alex," said Evita. "He's the full time driver, people love him. You can't place him as the bad guy in this situation."

"It wasn't my fault he can't handle losing to his teammate," said Franco. "I know he's not used to that, but I only overtook him."

Evita wanted to smack herself, or Franco, with her clipboard, but she refrained. "Please don't tell the media that. They'll twist your words and the entire world is going to hate you."

"I think you're the only one who hates me," said Franco, a soft chuckle in his voice. "Though you seem awfully invested for someone who can't stand me. Should I be flattered?"

"You're off topic," reminded Evita. "Back to the problem with Alex. I don't care what happened at the race, you're the rookie. If you take the bait, you're the one who looks bad."

"Fine," said Franco, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.

"Good," she said. "Focus on what you accomplished today. Incidents aside, P12 is a solid result. That's what people want to hear."

"You really think P12 is something to be proud of?"

Evita shrugged. "It's your third race, this is a tough track. It's not as good as last week, but it's a start."

"Thanks, Evita," said Franco. "That means a lot, coming from you. But I can't be completely proud of my results, and you know that. I'm here to score points, not fight with my teammate."

"Then tell that to the media," said Evita. "Share your goals, the professional ones, for fall break and Austin. That's it. Got it?"

"Fine," said Franco. "Whatever you say, Evita."

The pair continued to walk in silence, permeated only by the crowd around them.

"By the way, you're not still mad about the flat, are you?" asked Franco.

"Why would you think that?" asked Evita.

"I've never seen you that frazzled around a coworker," said Franco. "I know it's not ideal, but maybe it won't be so bad."

"For you, maybe. I'm a great roommate. You on the other hand-"

"Hey! How do you know how I am as a roommate?" asked Franco.

"I know you, Franco. That's enough for me," said Evita.

Franco tilted his head to the side, his confident deamanor sifting slightly. "Do you? Really?"

Evita's steps faltered for a moment. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He stopped walking and turned to face her. "You think you've got me all figured out, but you don't really know me, Evita. Not the way you think you do."

Evita felt her chest tightened, caught between irritation and the uneasy weight of his words. "I know enough. Now go, you can't be late for your interviews."

As he spoke with the first reporter on the list, Evita couldn't shake the thoughts circling viciously through her head. Clearly there was some sort of disconnect between her and Franco. But she wasn't sure if she wanted to figure it out with him.

...

an: i hate this chapter, but that's okay. the chapters i wrote months ago are next and i am actually so excited to post them, they make me giggle. anyway, for those of you who are interested in my jack doohan fic, i'm going to start publishing chapters for that soon since jack is making his race debut this weekend! all my love, willow <3