Well, Thomas doesn’t look much better under the dim, greenish lights of the hotel hallway, but Julien was raised with better manners.
“Gee, thanks.” He rubs his eye with the inside of his wrist, catching some of the crust that formed in the corners. “Who told you my room number?”
“I have my ways.” Thomas pushes past him and takes in the state of the small space, focusing longer on the laptop, steering controller, and headphones on the desk. “This is where you are sleeping? I should talk to Lorenzo about this.”
“It’s fine, it gets the job done.” Julien yawns wide and his jaw clicks. Hopefully that’s fine. “I don’t need chandeliers and clawfoot tubs to fall asleep. I’m good as long as I have a bed and internet.”
Thomas turns, his eyes wide. “How did you know there’s a chandelier in my room?”
Fuck, Julien is too tired for this. “It’s an exaggeration. I didn’t think you’dactuallyhave one. Did they give you champagne too?”
Thomas looks away as he strolls towards the small window. Avoidance has always been his tell. “You should be dressed by now. Were you streaming all night?”
Julien checks his watch and curses. What happened to his alarm? He was supposed to be up an hour ago.
He flings open the top of his carry-on and grabs a clean team shirt. At least he doesn’t have to decide what to wear. That helps.
As Julien changes, Thomas picks through his suitcase and sets aside a matching pair of socks. “You need to sleep whenever you can, especially in this sport. Your friends can wait.”
“They’re not just my friends, it’s myjob.” Julien hops, pulling his trousers up, over his thighs. “Besides, I ran this circuit a bunch of times. It’s like homework or something.”
“Learn anything new?”
Julien shrugs. He won’t know whether his braking is actually any better until he gets in the car. “I won in an Ashton. Hopefully that’s good luck for today.”
“Luck for you? Or for Ashton Marvin?”
“Huh.” Good question. “Maybe both?”
“Get your shoes on, we have to go. The Melbourne Walk always takes longer than expected.”
“Right.”
Despite yesterday’s troubles, the brakes make more sense in Free Practice 3. Whether the crew adjusted them overnight, or if Julien just needed some time to sleep on it, he definitely feels more confident in decelerating before each turn.
Even Davide seems relatively happy over the radio, so Julien has high hopes when he’s wheeled backwards into the garage.
That hope shatters when he’s parked next to a stern-faced Rafael.
“I thought it was a good lap!” When his screens are placed over the halo, Julien searches for the DUO tag. “I’m tenth! Why do you look so pissed?!”
“Well, for one, tenth isn’tfifth.” Rafael leans over the cockpit and scans the telemetry, pointing at different markers with his free hand. “You still aren’t using the full road. You gotta keep close to the wall at nine before you hit that high-speed corner. Look at your time in relation to—tothe otherFerraro.”
Purposely avoiding Thomas’s name only draws attention to it.
Still, Rafael going out of his way to avoid comparing the brothers is… kinda sweet?
Nah. Rafael just wants head. It’s not that serious.
Julien replies, “Thomas knows the width of the car better than anyone—better than the mechanics and the engineers. Isn’t it better if I don’t hit the wall?”
Tenth place is a point. One point is better than a destroyed car. If Julien can make it out of Australia alive, he can push harder in China, where the barriers are a reasonable distance away.
“That’s a loser’s mentality.” Rafael pops his head up and waves his arm. “Ricardo, Terry, stand next to the back tires. Simon, the front wing. The kid needs to see how big the car is.”
Once everyone is in place, Rafael says, “That’s how close to the wall you can get. You’re over a foot out in nine.”
Rafael is so obnoxious, but Julien checks his mirrors anyway. It’s easier to make out the edge of his tire against a bright red jumpsuit. The entire vehicle is far narrower than Julien expected.
