This cannot be happening, not on my first official day, not ever.
I am staring right into the eyes of Luke Hastings, the golden boy of Formula 1.
He seems furious for reasons I can only guess; he was the one who knocked Steve over, not the other way around.
Still, he looks like the whole of Star News could go six feet under right now.
I’ve only seen him in pictures and video clips, and they truly don’t do him justice. His hazel eyes, a captivating blend of gold and brown, narrow slightly as they focus on me, accentuating the sharp angles of his nose.
His full lips curl into a subtle smile. Dark brown hair, resembling rich chocolate, and a defined jawline. Adding a touch of ruggedness, he sports a well-groomed five o’clock shadowthat enhances his features, giving him an effortlessly handsome look.
Every detail contributes to an allure that’s hard to ignore.
“What did you just say to me?” he asks, raising one eyebrow slightly.
I almost roll my eyes at him. I can’t lose my job on the first day, especially not for insulting a driver.
Still, I’m annoyed by his attitude toward someone who’s just trying to do their job.
I know quite a few of the drivers in F1 have big egos, and while I expected to see that firsthand, I never imagined it would be in this way or so close.
I don’t want to be rude, but I do expect basic human decency, regardless of how big a star you are in the paddock.
You shouldn’t be allowed to push people around and expect them to fall at your feet when you’re in the wrong.
I stare right back into his face and speak with a clear voice.
“I said that you should watch where you’re going. I don’t know if you noticed, but you almost sent my dear cameraman Steve tumbling to the ground, along with me and our expensive gear. It would be appreciated if you were more careful.” I deliver my sentence with just the right amount of attitude, or at least that’s what I’m thinking.
Iwasn’t impolite, but I stood up for myself and poor Steve. He’s just looking at us awkwardly, obviously wanting to be anywhere but in this situation.
The corner of Luke’s mouth lifts slightly, almost like he’s intrigued or fascinated by this whole exchange.
He looks me over with hidden interest, and I stand up a little taller, determined that he won’t intimidate me with his curious eyes.
“Is that so? This paddock is my playground, princess, and you should be more careful not to stumble into the walkway where high-performing athletes are coming through to get away from the claws of the media.”
Is he for real? I look around and see that, well, yeah, Steve could be standing more to the side than he was, but there isn’t a lot of room in the interview zone, and we are doing our best with what we’ve got.
And calling the paddock his playground. He may be a star, but this is also a place for hard-working people who dedicate themselves to his beloved sport.
“It’s all right, really. I’m truly sorry, Mr. Hastings,” Steve interjects, his voice a mix of concern and urgency.
I narrow my eyes at him, a simmering frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
Maybe I don’t have to fight everyone’s battles, but I can’t abide those who treat others as if they are beneath them.
I take a deep breath, willing my racing heart and sharp tongue to settle, fearful of saying something that could jeopardize my hard-won place in the F1 world before it even begins.
“No worries, Steve. And you are...?” His tone is casual, but I sense a subtle curiosity in his gaze.
After the chaos of this moment, I hesitate to reveal my name.
Am I afraid he’ll run off to inform Anne that her brand-new reporter just insulted one of F1’s titans, suggesting I should be kicked off the team? Probably.
Keeping my identity under wraps seems like a safer option.
However, I don’t want to provoke him further; his eyes are scanning me intently, waiting for my response.
