WhatsApp Ft. Pierre Gasly

1

I walk to the restaurant from the hotel where I am staying. I have my bag on my shoulder. It is unfortunate I can't afford to go to more races, or at least, have paddock passes. I can get them around two times in the year, which ends up to be in Monaco and Monza, two of the races I have been attending for a few years in a row.

I am about to cross a road when I almost get run over by a scooter. I shriek and step back onto the pavement. The person stops and walks towards me. He takes off his helmet.

"Are you okay?" He asks me and I nod. I didn't hurt anything, just got a bit of a fright.

"Yeah, I am." I look up at him and my breath hitches in my throat. It is freaking Pierre Gasly!

"Good... I wasn't paying attention." I notice the sad look on his face.

"Are you okay?" I ask, putting emphasis on the word you. Pierre shrugs his shoulders.

"Just had some bad news..." By the look in his eyes, I can see it hurts and pretty much too.

"Do you maybe need to talk about it with someone?" I ask and he remains quiet. "You look a bit pale? Let's get you something to eat." I say and I mention towards the restaurant just across the road. He nods and together we cross the road, this time without being run over. Pierre parks his scooter between the bikes standing outside and we go inside.

"A table for two please." I smile at the waiter and he leads us to a table. We sit down and at first Pierre and I start talking about the race. After all, I am a  Red Bull and Toro Rosso fan and Pierre drives for Toro Rosso.

"What is your name anyway? You know mine, but I don't know yours." I chuckle.

"Anca." It is silent for a while and I still can see that whatever is going on is bothering him a lot. "I am going to be very blunt..." I start. "What is bothering you so much?"