Bile rises in my throat, a bitter taste stinging the back of my mouth and I clasp a hand over my mouth so I don’t spill it all over the floor outside the Hendersohm garage.
Fucking nepo babies and their fucking privileges. And on the first day I’m finally starting to feel like I don’t want the duvet to consume me forever, too.
I tear my eyes away from my best friend and ex getting on like an absolute house on fire. I hate it. I hate that everyone likes him so much. But most of all, I hate that he’s fine while I’m a mess.
I abandon my pre-race ritual with Harper and hurry back to my own garage to take some deep breaths. Or maybe scream into a cushion in the privacy of room.
I cannot allow him to get to me like this. I made a promise to myself after the caffeine gods shone on me yesterday that I’d stop letting him put me in such a foul mood. I definitely don’t need it on a race morning.
I keep my head down as I pass through the garage, grateful that for once no one seems to want a piece of me. Or maybe it’s just the scowl on my face scaring them off. Either way, I’ll take it right now.
Ten minutes. That’s what I’ll give myself. Ten minutes to wipe his existence from my mind and then I’ll be back to focused Johannes, ready to go out there and win. Ready to move on from this disaster. Just ten minutes.
I push open the door to my room, slowly forcing out a controlled breath. But as I release and breathe in again, the smell of coffee infiltrates my nostrils.
Sitting on the table is another steaming takeaway cup of coffee, and it smells absolutely incredible.
I peel the lid off and take a sip. The flavour is rich, the roast of the bean very fresh, but in the background there’s a sweet, creamy flavour like a mocha. It’s perfection in a cup and God I need this right now.
I realise way too slowly that I’m grinning like a total idiot at a polystyrene cup. At least I’m alone in my room, even if the door is still open and anyone could see in if they walked past right now. I look back at the table and just like yesterday there’s a paper bag there, too. I peer inside and it’s the gooiest chocolate brownie I’ve ever seen. I can’t eat it right now, obviously, but it gives me something to look forward to post-race.
The caffeine fills my veins giving me a much-needed boost, but it’s the taste that lingers in my mouth and has me forgetting all about the rage that bought me in here. I think about the track, the car, the twists and turns, where the opportunities might lie, the weather report, the feeling of qualifying in P2. I think about the fact that I set the record for this track and I still hold it. I sip and think, sip and think.
When I’m finished, I stride confidently out to the pit wall where set-up is taking place. Thankfully, Nathan isn’t around and Ian and Nils are focused on their own strategy, but it wouldn’t matter because I’m focused. I’m ready.
I see Caleb, headset already on and eyes fixated on his screen, scribbling down notes. He cares so much about my drive, and about this team. I don’t know why I never noticed it before, but now it feels like I won’t be alone out there. It’s not just the coffee that feels like warmth inside my body.
I allow myself to be guided away by the team to warm up, suit up, and stand for the national anthem.
Rolling my shoulders back as I finally climb into the car, I let out a big breath and the tunnel vision kicks in. I have to crush this today. I need to make the Hungarian track my bitch and prove to everyone that I’m neither down nor out. That I’m still here and I’m still the best that’s ever been seen here.
Everyone is fighting today, especially the Hendersohm guys, but I’m relentless as the three of us battle on the narrow roads. I’m grateful for the start I got from P2, because I was able to put myself out front from the very beginning. And that’s how it stays for almost seventy laps. An utter domination of the Hungaroring.
I’m so hungry for this win that even Harper almost causing contact doesn’t distract me, and I take the opportunity to floor it between turns eleven and twelve as I try to put as much distance between us as possible. It’s beautiful going into clean air after lapping the stragglers at the very back, not a car in sight as I let it sink in that I’m going to win, that this could be a turning point if I just let myself fucking embrace that my life is going to be better from now on because I’m free of the dead weight arsehole who’s been dragging me down.
That sometimes shitty things do happen so that better things will come.
One door closing and another opening, and all that shit.
In this case, I’m hoping the door that’s cracked open leads to potentially being world champion for the very first time.
‘Final lap,’ Caleb confirms as I cross the line for the penultimate time, heading into the straight for one last beautiful lap.
‘Time between me and Harper, please?’ I ask, but I can hear him behind me– it can’t be as much as I initially thought.
‘Point two. Keep pushing. You’ve got this.’ I believe him, but less than a second later Harper’s right behind me, practically fucking rear-ending me in a last-ditch attempt to win. He pulls around me and flies out of my defensive reach.
‘Fuck!’ I say. Of course he couldn’t just let me have this. He never would. And I respect him for that, because I would do the same. But still…
I hate having to trail him to the chequered flag because I led for an hour and a half, but P2 is P2 and a hell of a lot better than P10.
When I pull up behind the second-place stop sign, I know I’m back. It’s joy but it’s also relief. I’m back. I’m fucking back. Thank God.
I finally get released from media and time in the cool-down room and on the podium, desperate to be out of my sweaty race suit and to celebrate a good result on the track. Checking my phone, Harper’s already messaged in the group chat that we’re going out this evening and to bringeveryone.I’m not sure who he means by everyone, but I can guarantee he means at least Nils, so I fire off a text asking if he fancies it tonight.
He replies immediately with a big, screaming YES as I walk towards our pit wall.
Caleb’s still at the screens, chatting away with Ian and gesturing animatedly to something on the screen, whilst Ian takes notes. It’s kind of cute how excited Caleb seems about whatever it is, and I find myself lingering a few metres away to observe. He’s still working and I don’t want to interrupt him, but I owe him a proper thank-you for getting me through the last month or so.
