Away We Go • 2 • Formula One

Chapter 42

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Thursday - dreaded media day. Every single cell in my body was willing me to phone in sick just to avoid the scrutiny, however this was Monaco; Thursday wasn't just media day at this circuit. I was also required to complete the first and second practice session. I already had a list compiled in my head with the potential questions I could be asked, varying from my general health, to my performance in the car, to where I've been. In order to maintain a consistent story, I revised the paragraph below my instagram post and filled in the blanks that would make everything make sense. Just reading the words brought a sick feeling to my stomach, and, before the day had even started, the contents of my breakfast were forcibly emptied into the toilet bowl.

Max was the one to hold my hair out of my face and envelope my trembling body after the exhaustion hit me. We stayed hugging on the cool, tiled bathroom floor for what felt like an eternity in silence, other than the occasionally words of comfort Max would whisper in my ear. Although I wouldn't tell him, I had yet another nightmare the previous night. This one wasn't centred around him, though, and instead brought focus to the narrow streets of Monaco. As I drove, the walls of the circuit slowly closed in on my car until it got to a point where I couldn't avoid the barrier. When I looked down after the impact, all I saw was blood between my legs, and that was when I woke up, a cold sweat drenching my nightshirt. I daren't worry him more than I already am. After what happened, he was already more protective of me, if that were even possible. I didn't want to hurt him.

"I'm going to give Damien a call," Max said, his voice low, as he made a move to stand. My grip tightened on his shirt and I furrowed my brow in confusion. "There's no way you're going in today."

My hazel eyes widened. "What? No, you can't!"

"Alyssa, you're clearly not well."

"I promise you it's just nerves - I'm not sick," I protested. His frown only grew deeper so I knew he wasn't convinced. I followed suit, standing up so that I could prove to him I was okay. Apart from a little wobble, I was able to stand up defiantly with my arms crossed. The bubbles of nausea unsettled me so I pushed them down with a heavy swallow. "See?" I raised my eyebrows to mimic his unconvinced expression, "I'm fine to go in."

"But-"

"No," I interrupted him. "Trust me, Max, I'm fine to go in. I promise that if I get bad, I'll find a quiet room and stay there until I'm better, or until someone manages to find you." I knew that what I was saying was something that he wanted to hear and not necessarily the actions I would take if I were to start feeling off. It was my only shot at convincing him that I was okay, even though I wasn't. "I can't miss the practice sessions or else people will start to talk and I really don't want to be dealing with more rumours. Surely you can understand that?"

Max let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah, I do."

"I know you're coming from a place of love, but this is my career, Max. I'm going to deal with it in my own way."

Leaning down, Max pressed a soft kiss to the top of my hand and intertwined our fingers. When he pulled back, I noticed his gaze was fixed on the ring on my left hand. A lazy smile tugged at the corners of his frown, lifting it upwards. "Are you going to wear your ring around the paddock?"

In all honesty, I hadn't really given it a thought. "Well, that depends."

"On?"

"On you," I said, tugging my lower lip between my teeth. "I won't wear it if you don't want me to. If any questions are asked, I'm going to dismiss them as quickly as I can."