Unexpected

Part 32

We're seated by the host at a table with a fantastic view of the city at the revolving restaurant in the Oriental Pearl Radio and TV Tower. It slowly moves in a circular motion, and if you stay long enough, you'll see a 360 view of the skyline. We gorge ourselves on soup dumplings and steamed crab (well, Sangil might have gorged himself, I was restrained). Before leaving we make a quick stop by the glass bottomed observation deck, where we try to push each other onto it.

We're walking on the Bund promenade, where most of the buildings have older European architecture, and where the Huangpu River is on the other side. (This involved a bit of work: my manager had driven us from the Oriental Pearl to the beginning of the promenade, and she'll drive us to my GTR if the walk takes too long. She also took my parasol and gave me a white cardigan. And jokingly asked for a raise. Sangil's manager helps out as well.)

"Your birthday will be close to the Azerbaijan Grand Prix," I say as we stroll. "I was wondering what sort of things you like and don't like."

"Um, such as? I think I'm a pretty laid-back guy."

"Do you like surprises?"

He thinks before answering. "This might be frustrating, but it depends. If you're positive that I'll like the surprise, than yes. But if not, than no."

"Tell me about food tastes, but be general. Baku won't have Korean. Spicy: yes or no?"

"No. Maybe mild. I like chicken and pork. And seafood."

I ask a few more questions about desserts and drinks, trying to find out even more about his preferences. "How about activities. Indoor or outdoor?"

"Either. Unless it's cold or raining outside, then indoors."

"I know that Koreans try to do big events for their significant other, but I don't have experience with that. It's not going to be much different from other weekends we've spent together."

"Sochi!" Sangil turns to me, taking me gently by the shoulders. "Every time we've spent together has felt like an event. I've been feeling inadequate in comparison."

I vehemently shake my head. "Never." And I lean in and give him a hug. After we pull apart I take his hand and we continue ambling down the street.

As Sangil clips his seatbelt in place inside the GTR, he asks how I can drive in so many countries.

"International license. It works in almost every country. I read up on the main laws and signs before I arrive so I won't make mistakes. And sometimes I have a Nissan team member drive me around, but not with you."

"Is that the only license you need?"

"No, I also have a super license and a Japanese license. The super license is something I need in order to drive a Formula One car."

"And how is the test for that?"

"The test is written and isn't the most important part. The accumulation of forty points, obtained by competing and finishing in the higher places in certain racing categories, is the difficult part. Like F2 and F3, but also others. During a three year period. And don't get me started on the cost, which is ten thousand euros a year, plus one thousand for every point you earn in F1. And it needs to be renewed annually, if you wish to continue racing in Formula One."

"That sounds insane."

I sigh. "It wasn't easy obtaining it, but like I mentioned before, I can afford it. When I think of the talented drivers that didn't move from karts to single-seaters because they couldn't pay tens of thousands or a hundred grand per year for a seat, my heart aches. I had a friend who was always beating me during our karting years. But his family wasn't well off, and he didn't get sponsors, so he stopped racing. He could have been better than me." I give a sad little smile, even though I feel like crying now that I've remembered him. He was amazing.

We're quiet for the rest of the drive to our hotel. I thought that we would go our separate ways for the night, but Sangil says he has something to show me, so I follow him to his room. While we're opening his door, Lando comes out of his own room not too far off, and Sangil narrows his eyes and looks down his nose at him.

"Do you think that sent a message of Stay away?" he asks me.

I giggle as I peak at Lando, who looks lost and confused. "Maybe. But you have nothing to worry about. All I feel for my fellow drivers is platonic love, love, love."

Sangil laughs as I sing his song, and ushers me inside, where he seats me on a chair and tells me to wait a little. He fiddles with his phone and some speakers, and I am delighted. I take out my phone to record this as he finishes up by placing a piece of paper on the table. I sit up straighter and focus on him. He breathes deeply before hitting the play button. The familiar notes ring out, and he starts singing.

🎶 Nijinda akari ga kirei de ...

The bleeding light is beautiful ... 🎶

His voice is beautiful. This ballad isn't a love song, but as he sings and gazes at me, it may as well be. I love it so much that by the time he finishes a couple tears have rolled down my cheeks.

"Don't cry," he whispers, brushing them away with his thumbs.

"Thank you," I reply as I stand on my tippy toes and press my lips against his. 

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