Chapter 3
LUKE
I collapse onto the coach in my driver’s room, which is stocked with all the essentials a driver would need during a race weekend.
A full fridge with water, energy drinks, snacks, and fruit.
Then I have the bathroom, which features a luxury shower. That is the most essential part of a driver’s room.
When you’ve been driving around the track at about 300 km per hour, sweating off several kilograms of your own body weight, you need an excellent shower.
I also have a TV and a PlayStation to entertain me in between the action, mainly consisting of workouts, racing, and meetings.
Other than that, the F1 lifestyle isn’t all that glamorous, at least not while we’re in the paddock, which tends to be a lot during the race weekend. I don’t mind.
I’m grateful to be living this life and for the opportunities I’ve had. But it can get boring with the same routine every weekend.
I smile to myself, thinking back to the meeting with the feisty brunette.
What a breath of fresh air she was.
I was storming off after a rough free practice, during which everything in the car felt off. I wasn’t in the mood for interviews about my poor performance on the track.
I wasn’t paying attention when I smashed right into the cameraman and sent him tumbling into the beautiful Jessica Edwards.
Usually, I would apologize to Steve immediately for bumping into him, but before I even got the chance, Jessica was on me.
The fire in her eyes, especially before she realized whom she had used her snarky tone on, was such a refreshing sight.
Normally, people fall all over themselves if they ever feel like they’ve stepped on my toes or said something wrong. It gets exhausting being surrounded by people who only say yes.
That is, until you mess up or do something they dislike or that costs them money, then you’re lectured like a child.
Even when you’re 25 years old, like me.
Jessica didn’t back down, even after realizing who she had been talking to. The slight widening of her eyes when she regained her balance and looked at me revealed her every secret.
She knew who I was, but that didn’t stop her.
Even when I challenged her and made it clear she shouldn’t speak to me like that, she remained firm and set me straight.
It was hot.
Seeing Jessica stand her ground and not quiver under the pressure of talking to a high-profile athlete was invigorating.
I haven’t seen her in the paddock before, which might be a coincidence, or she could be new.
The press badge hanging around her neck, along with her connection to my buddy Steve, suggests she works in media.
Her hair and makeup elevated her presence, complemented by a sleek black outfit that hugged her figure perfectly.
Her styled hair and makeup, along with the elegant outfit she wore, indicate that she belongs in front of the camera.
Those killer red heels added an extra touch of fierce sophistication.
Jessica was a captivating vision, a blend of striking beauty with a sharp attitude.
Part of me feels annoyed that I put on the whole egomaniac persona before her. I usually charm women effortlessly, but the challenge of Jessica also exhilarated me.
God. How pathetic can I be?
I need a hot reporter to make me feel anything other than failure or success.
Becoming part of F1 has been my biggest dream come true, though it’s also been a nightmare at times.
At first, everything was so new and exciting. Although I had a stellar career from F3 and F2, no one really expected much from me in those first few years.
I learned, adapted, and enjoyed the jump into F1.
As soon as I achieved my first victory, everything changed.
Now, everyone knew that I had potential, and expectations shifted. I had always set high expectations for myself, but now everyone else was adding to the pressure.
This season, they crowned me the “Golden boy” of F1.
I love and hate the title.
It feels good to know people believe in you, but it can also be exhausting when everyone is watching your every move.
Waiting for you to make a mistake.
Everyone expects me to win my first World Championship this year.
The sponsor deals are bigger, the risks are higher, and the team is putting everything they can into making the dream a reality.
But in F1, if the car isn’t good enough, even the best driver in the world wouldn’t be enough.
And from what I’ve seen of our car so far, we still have a long way to go before we can even consider a world championship title.
I lean back on the couch and reflect on my performance on the track. The car is struggling with a phenomenon called porpoising, which means it jumps up and down at high speeds.
Imagine going 300 km/h and something banging into your head, neck, and shoulders.
That’s how it feels.
The challenges weren’t so bad during pre-season testing, but every track is different.
Our session was marked by an unsteady vehicle, and although our lap times weren’t bad, I still felt horrible when I got out.
Hopefully, the team will make the necessary adjustments to improve the car.
I usually make time for media, either way, knowing it’s part of my responsibilities and job, but today my only goal was to get away as quickly as possible.
Crashing straight into poor Steve and Jessica wasn’t planned, but it’s given me my first genuine smile of the day, making me grateful for her refreshing character once again.
I smile to myself, wondering what kind of flowers a girl like her would prefer.