French Grand Prix #6
“Yeah, thanks everybody.” Julien reads a couple of comments with his name and scoffs. “Yeah, I’m not doing that unless the rest of the guys do it first.”
“Whaaaaaa?”
“After we voted for it?”
“I didn’t get to vote!”
“You still would've lost.”
“Chat doesn’t want to see us without our clothes on.”
“Actually, chat agrees.”
“Fuck.”
Julien laughs. “Thanks, chat.”
“Fine.” To his credit, Mick reaches down and pulls the hem of his shirt over his head first. “Thanks for four thousand subs.”
“It’s almost at five now.” Kevin’s next, and he flings his shirt somewhere behind him.
“It’s cold as balls in my room right now, chat.” John has to shrug off his jumper first, but soon he’s just as fleshy as the others.
Julien takes a sneaky screenshot before he pulls his shirt up and off. “I’ve had cocks in my ass that were less gay than this. Why the fuck did anyone suggest it?”
“At 5k we can circlejerk.”
“Don’t even say that, you idiot!”
“Can we get back to the game, please?” It’s chilly enough in Julien’s room for his nipples to pebble, but his skin is still warm enough to stick to his leather chair.
The worst of both worlds. “I’d really like to win my home race, so let’s try to focus on the track and not on the fact that John obviously waxes his chest.”
“Hey! No I don’t!”
Julien grabs his phone and texts a quick thanks to Rafael. He props the device up before he grabs the controller so he can see a reply if one comes in.
Rafael
Thanks for the show
Hope I get a private one later
Julien tries to focus on the race and block the text from his thoughts. When he blushes, he’s red all the way down to his chest. The last thing he wants is for someone to notice.
Julien catches himself staring at the iconic blue and red stripes radiating off of the circuit. It’s different, somehow, knowing that he’s here for Formation 1. Heavier in a way he hadn’t expected. More important.
He pulls his eyes away from the uniform lines to look up at the stands, waving as they slowly chug along in the driver’s parade.
Lorenzo had already warned him they wouldn’t make any official Julien merch, but he catches his name anyway, proudly displayed on the odd homemade sign. He points and waves and tries not to tear up.
If he doesn’t earn a seat for next year, at least he has this moment.
“Hello, hi, Julien Dubois,” someone says as they shuffle up next to him, knocking him into the railing. “We haven’t officially met yet? I’ve seen you in passing, of course, but thought I’d—hello.”
“Uh, hey Matt?” Julien’s been on the grid for nearly five races already. Surely any other time would be better for a casual chat. “Can this maybe wait?”
The Kaas driver looks between the Frenchman and his countrymen. “Sorry, for the timing, it’s kinda important.”
Laurent Gastaud leans into their space and mutters, “Please don’t.”
Yeah, don’t. Whatever it is, the two of them are the most disliked drivers on the grid. Julien almost doesn’t want to be caught speaking with them.
Despite his friend’s warning, Matt soldiers on. “Sim racing is a hobby of ours too. I’ve actually followed y’all since your twenty-four hour championship win a couple’a years ago.”
“Wait, really?” Julien’s team gains a bunch of followers after each race, but Matt is a real full-time Formation 1 driver with no other ties to him. “Really?!”
“I mean, I didn’t know it was you at the time, of course.” Matt’s shoulders bunch up and drop quickly. “A rose by any other name, right?”
“Right.” Is that it? Was that the important thing worthy of interrupting Julien’s home race drivers parade? “Well, thanks for the support.”
“Race data and strategy is actually a hobby of mine.” Guess they’re not finished yet. “I understand it might be considered rude to do so—”
“Please don’t,” Laurent tries again.
“—but I know you’ve been receiving advice from Rafael. Even collaboration across teams can be helpful because fresh eyes bring new perspectives.”
Laurent slides away until he and Robert Miller switch positions. The larger American looms over his teammate with something like concern, glaring at Julien as if to judge whether or not he’s a threat.
Matt doesn’t even seem to notice.
“You want me to give you Rafael’s advice?” Julien guesses. “It’s pretty specific to our car. I don’t know how much it would help you.”
“No, no, no, not me. I was wondering—are you open to hearing advice from others?”
Ah. Unsolicited advice. Great.
The truck bumps along the road, and Matt braces himself on his teammate. Did he even notice that the body he’s grasping isn’t his friend anymore? “I watched your stream this week. The shirtless one?”
“Shirtless?” Robert finally asks.
Great. That stream definitely needed more witnesses. Witnesses who know Julien both personally and professionally.
His friends are dicks. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ll stream clothed from now on.”
“No, no, no—” No? “I mean your racing. You drove the sim line through twelve and fourteen during the stream, but also during all three practices and Qualifying.”
“Yeah, it’s faster.” And Julien has the result to prove it. Today he’ll start third while Matt is starting somewhere in the bottom ten.
It’s bold of the American to assume his experience makes him more knowledgeable than the rookie. Especially since Julien knows his record.
“It’s definitely faster on the one-lap, but I wanted to warn you not to leave yourself open to overtakes during the race. Sam prefers overtaking in the straights, but—”
“How do you know that?”
“Know thy enemy.” As if Red Boar has ever been Kaas’s enemy. “Thomas is weaker in the chicane, but he loves to power around the outside with brute force. That line between twelve and fourteen will leave you vulnerable to him.”
Huh.
Still, even if it is true, there’s an obvious problem with this advice. “Sam and Thomas both start ahead of me.”
“Oh.” Matt finally pauses. It lasts several seconds. “Well, if Sam angles his car inwards, stick to the outside. He and Thomas are obsessed with each other—they won’t notice a third car slipping past until too late.”
Does literally everybody know about Sam and Thomas?
There’s no reason for Matt to help him, but what if it’s true? What if Julien is leaving himself vulnerable every single lap?
Then again, what if this is just another Thomas-getting-to-him situation? Another Japan?
“Why would you help me?”
“Um, ha ha,” Matt seems almost bashful as he scratches at his scalp. “Y’know, eRacing gets a bad rap. With Romeo public, you kinda represent all the gaming kids—the ones who couldn’t afford to go karting. I think it’d be cool if you won as a reserve.”
What does that matter to him, though? Clearly Matt could afford karting as a kid if he’s a full-time Formation 1 driver now.
“I mean, the odds are against me finishing in the points, much less winning the race. If it can’t be me, I’d like it to be you.”
“Right.” Still, Julien can’t let his guard down. “Nobody in Ferraro has mentioned any disadvantages to my line.”
“Maybe because of the faster one-lap pace? It’s an overtake-heavy track, though, so race strategy matters more than Qualifying.”
Race strategy.
Because the best result for the team is a one-two that favors the championship leader.
“Do you think Ferraro knows?” Julien would hate to think the worst of his team, but after Japan, it’s hard to trust anyone. “I mean, do you think they’ve told Thomas I’m weaker there?”
Matt’s eyebrows draw inwards. “Honestly, I dunno. It’s not a secret Thomas wants to win his home race, and Ferraro has to keep their number one driver happy. You could be an obstacle.”
An obstacle. “Thanks.” If anything, at least Julien has more to think about before they line up.
“Anytime. I’m just glad I finally said something. It was eating me up like, all weekend.” Matt breathes out and it almost sounds like a laugh.
Y’know, he’s not a bad guy. He’s just kinda weird. And jumpy.
Julien should extend some sort of peace offering. “Hey, did you want to join the stream sometime?”
“Me?!”
“Yeah. The guys would love to have an actual Formation 1 driver on. Personally, I’d like to have some competition for once.”
Matt nods quickly. “Yeah! Absolutely, just tell me when.”
Robert leans in, a disarming smile plastered on his modelesque face. “Maybe then you could convince your streaming friends to stop shitting on his driving, huh?”
Oh no.
“Shut up, Bobby!” Matt hisses. He laughs awkwardly when he turns back. “I get it—I’m an easy target.”
“I am so sorry.” Julien remembers the comments about his own racing he had to endure. It was only for a few races, but it was brutal—even in the Ferraro. “Seriously, I am.”
Julien has never been a fan of either American driver. He might’ve made a couple of comments here or there at their expense. Several. A handful. Most race weekends.
He never expected to be confronted about it, though.
Fuck.
Matt waves him off as the truck finally parks. “If I avoided every outlet that talked shit about me, I wouldn’t have anything left to watch. It’s seriously fine.”
No, it’s not, but hopefully Julien can fix it with some groveling. “I’ll text you? Your number’s in the group chat, right?”
“Yeah, sure thing.” The crowd swallows both Kaas drivers as everyone exits the truck at once.
Julien gives one final wave to the bleachers before he disembarks.
Twelve and fourteen. Julien hasn’t driven the normal race line since Formation 2. It’s in him somewhere—he just has to find it again.
Improving from third to first at Circuit Paul Richard isn’t impossible. If Julien plays his cards right, he could have a legitimate shot at—
“I did not know you are friendly with the Americans.” Thomas’s voice is like a bucket of ice water to the face.
Is he spying on him now? What does it matter who Julien talks to? “Don’t you and your boyfriend have racing incidents to plot?”