ELEVEN
I WAKE UP WITH my heart pounding, body drenched in sweat and a familiar hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Instinctively, I press my palms and the soles of my feet into the mattress and stare hard at the ceiling fan above my head.
I know from experience that if I close my eyes my brain will start filling with images from my nightmares again, so I keep them wide open, unblinking.
I wish that I could turn the light on as well, but Sarah is fast asleep and I don’t want to disturb her.
I don’t have this dream very often any more, but I guess all the commotion of the past few days has sent my anxious subconscious into overdrive.
Technically, it’s not a nightmare so much as a memory, a flashback to the time I felt my most powerless, when the safe, happy world I’d always known became a much darker, scarier place.
But it’s easier to pretend that it’s only a bad dream, a figment of my overactive imagination, and not the worst experience of my life.
AS USUAL, EMIKA IS already at breakfast when I arrive. I’m starting to wonder if she ever sleeps. ‘Hey.’ She looks up as I collapse into the seat opposite. ‘Have you seen the forecast? It’s going to be sweltering.’
‘It already is.’ I gulp down a glass of orange juice and rip open a protein bar. Hopefully it gives me some energy, because right now I’m not sure I can stay awake for the next hour, let alone the whole day.
‘Whoa, bad night?’ She peers at me over her toast. ‘You look exhausted.’
‘I didn’t sleep well.’ I force a smile. ‘Nerves, I guess.’
‘To be honest, I’m a little nervous about today too. The heat’s not ideal.’ She sits back and brushes crumbs off her hands. ‘Hopefully the ice baths will help.’
‘Ice baths?’ My eyebrows shoot up.
‘Come and see.’ She pushes her chair back and stands up. ‘We need to get moving anyway.’
I grab an iced coffee to go, and follow her outside, round the back of the motorhome to where an awning has been set up over a pair of dipping tubs filled with ice and … two F1 drivers. I clap a hand over my mouth to stop myself from bursting out laughing.
‘Morning, gentlemen!’ Emika grins down at them. ‘Don’t mind us. We’re just here for the view.’
‘Morning.’ Corey raises a hand in greeting.
‘Hey.’ Leif opens one eye and then closes it again.
‘Wow.’ I get a grip on my laughter. ‘That looks brutal. ’
‘Because it is.’ Corey dips his head under the surface for a couple of seconds before re-emerging and shaking himself off like a dog. ‘My favourite parts are shrivelling. Meanwhile, my crazy teammate is enjoying himself.’
‘What? I’m comfortable.’ Leif’s mouth twitches into a smile. He looks completely relaxed, like most other people are when they’re sunbathing.
‘Hi, guys.’ Leif’s performance coach, Kelsey – a five-foot fitness fanatic with a blue pixie haircut who I finally met yesterday – emerges from the back of the motorhome.
‘Hey.’ Emika waves towards the tubs. ‘We’ve come to get these two out of your hair.’
‘It’s about time. You should have heard the whining from this one earlier.’ She throws a towel at Corey as he heaves himself up. ‘Milo had to go for a walk because he couldn’t take it any more.’
‘ My performance coach is doing an errand for me,’ Corey contradicts her indignantly. ‘And not all of us grew up in the Arctic!’
‘Technically Trondheim is below the Arctic Circle,’ Leif corrects him.
‘Just keep reminding them both to drink, will you?’ Kelsey’s expression turns serious. ‘Milo and I have been monitoring their hydration levels and giving them plenty of salts, but these temperatures are dangerous.’
‘We will,’ I assure her.
‘Now get a move on, you two.’ Emika taps her watch. ‘You need to be in the garage for a strategy meeting in ten minutes.’
‘Here.’ I pass Leif a towel as he climbs out of the pool, and I get a full, sudden and unobscured view of his dripping body.
He’s ripped in a way that makes me want to scoop up some of the ice and drop it down the back of my own T-shirt.
He’s wearing swimming trunks too, and if that’s how he looks when he’s cold, then …
I tear my gaze away before anyone notices the direction of my eye-line.
Kelsey’s right. These temperatures really are dangerous.
‘Thanks.’ He takes the towel and wraps it round his waist while I blushingly check my phone.
‘Nine minutes!’ Emika barks, making shooing motions with her arms. ‘Hurry! If we’re not where we’re supposed to be and there’s a random drug test, you’ll be the ones in trouble. I’m talking penalties!’
Four minutes later, both drivers reappear from the motorhome dressed in shorts, vests and flip flops.
‘No way am I putting on a race suit yet.’ Corey shoots Emika a warning look.
‘I wouldn’t ask you to. Besides, there’s no time. Come on.’
We wave goodbye to Kelsey, who’s busy putting up a sign offering free dips for anyone in need of cooling off, and make our way towards the garage, Corey and Emika striding ahead while Leif and I walk behind.
I’m trying to think of something to say when I see a familiar figure walking through the paddock towards us.
Jasper Ramirez! Shit! This trip was so last minute and I’ve been so busy I somehow forgot he would be here with Quezada.
Not that I necessarily expect him to recognize me – I’m just some girl he interviewed six months ago – but if he does, this really isn’t a good time for a reunion.
One, because it would draw attention to the fact that we know each other, and two because the bags under my eyes don’t exactly scream ‘Hire me!’.
I drop into a crouch and keep my head down. ‘Sorry. I need to retie my laces.’
‘Take your time.’ Leif’s feet stop beside me.
‘Um, what?’ I hear Emika protest. ‘We don’t have any spare time.’
‘I’ll just be a sec,’ I murmur, waiting until Jasper’s shoes pass by. ‘There we go.’ I spring up again. ‘Ready.’
‘Good.’ Emika is starting to sound panicked. ‘Because we have one minute!’
‘Are you OK?’ Leif asks, as we hurry on again.
‘Yes.’ I give him an innocent look. ‘Why?’
‘You look tired.’
‘Oh.’ Apparently my make-up really isn’t fooling anyone. ‘I didn’t sleep well. All the excitement, I guess.’
‘Working your first GP is a pretty steep learning curve.’ He stops outside the door to the garage, a serious expression on his face. ‘But you’re doing great.’
‘Thanks.’ I smile up at him, feeling a warm, fuzzy glow at the words.
‘OK, OK, in you go.’ Emika ushers him and Corey inside. ‘We’re off to find Vienna, but we’ll be back in a couple of hours. No running away!’
‘Yes, boss.’ Corey salutes her.
‘And don’t forget to drink plenty of water!’ I call after them.
LEIF’S SCHEDULE SAYS ‘Not to be Disturbed 12–12.55’ in red capital letters. It’s a planned nap time so I wait outside his room in the team motorhome until exactly one hour and five minutes before the race starts, and then knock gently.
‘Hello?’ I open the door a crack when there’s no answer. ‘Leif?’
There’s still no answer so I push my head through the gap and peer inside.
Leif is sitting in an armchair, his feet propped on a small table in front him, snoring softly.
After a hectic morning of meetings and discussions, most people would be too wired to sleep, but F1 drivers seem to be able to conk out on command.
‘Leif?’ I creep forward, keeping my voice low so that I don’t startle him. ‘It’s time to get ready.’
‘Mmm.’ He moans. ‘Ava …’
I inhale sharply because he’s never said my name like that before. Softly, almost tenderly. His eyes are still closed too, like he’s dreaming … about me?
My stomach flips. Because, despite myself, I like the way he said it; part of me wants to hear it again.
‘Leif?’ I gently press a hand to his shoulder.
He’s still dressed for the heat, in shorts and a vest, and his skin is smooth and velvety soft beneath my fingertips.
It makes me want to slide my hand lower, over his bicep and forearm all the way down to his wrist. I feel a bizarre urge to take hold of his hand, to slip my fingers through his.
Only that would be wrong, taking advantage, an invasion of privacy – completely unprofessional.
I’m not a hand-holder anyway, never have been.
‘Ava?’
I jolt my gaze up from his hand to find Leif’s eyes wide open and locked on to mine.
For a moment, we both stay that way, staring at each other like we’re hypnotized.
I’ve always thought his eyes were cold, an icy rather than tropical blue, but right now they’re warm and intense and …
oh crap, confused , like he’s wondering what I’m doing, bending over him like this.
‘You have a race to get to,’ I say, as I take a step back and try desperately to pretend that nothing weird just happened. My voice is so tight and high-pitched I hardly recognize it. ‘They’re waiting for you in the garage.’
‘Right.’ He rubs his hands over his face. ‘I’ll get dressed.’
I breathe a sigh of relief. He looks so sleepy he probably thinks he imagined me staring.
‘There’s just one more thing.’ I pull a small plastic box out of my pocket and offer it to him. Inside is a silicon pill containing a micro-thermometer.
‘Urgh.’ He rolls his eyes, puts the pill in his mouth and then reaches for his water bottle. ‘You know, in the past they let drivers just drive .’
‘It’s for your own safety,’ I admonish him. ‘The team need to monitor your body’s levels, especially today.’
I wait outside for him to put on his race suit and then we head to the garage together, dodging photographers and journalists as we go.
We don’t talk, partly because I’m still feeling embarrassed about the whole staring incident, but mainly because I know he has to mentally prepare for the race ahead.