“Hey,” she said softly.“You okay?”
My breath stuttered despite my best efforts.“I— Yes.I’m fine.”
Her fingers shifted beneath mine, our palms meeting briefly, before I pulled away.The softness of her touch lingered, warm and steadying.
Get it together.You’re fine.It’s just driving.
“I’m just excited to show you how it’s really done,” I shot back, defaulting to competition, because that was safe ground.
Lily’s eyebrow arched.“My driving was perfect, thank you.”
Éliott gathered everyone for the rules briefing.“Right, it’s basically a sprint format.Forty laps, and whoever’s fastest wins.No contact, though these things bounce pretty well.”
Max pointed at me.“And no crying when your F1 skills mean nothing.”
I scoffed, trying to project a confidence I wasn’t feeling.“Good thing I brought the championship leader with me.”
I pointed at Lily, then leaned toward her.“You want to take the first session?”
“Obviously.”She was already reaching for the helmet again.“Someone needs to set a proper benchmark.”
“Confident.I like it.”
The rain started in earnest, transforming from drizzle to actual precipitation.Proper drops that turned the track surface into something approaching a lake in places.
My chest tightened further, watching the water pool.
It’s fine.This is nothing like Miami.Except it was.Rain and an unfamiliar car, with me barely holding it together.
“Remember,” I said as Lily climbed into the driver’s seat, my voice steadier than I felt, “this isn’t F1.You can’t just point it where you want and trust electronics.”
“Thanks for the revolutionary pep talk, coach.Any other groundbreaking insights?”
“Don’t get us killed,” I said, and there was more genuine concern than I’d intended.“Seriously, Lily.Just be careful.”
“I will,” she promised, touching my hand briefly.I knew she wouldn’t.Lily would drive this car like she drove everything: with complete commitment.
After twenty laps, Lily pulled over for the swap.We awkwardly maneuvered in the confined space, elbows bumping, her knee catching mine as she slid to the passenger seat.The brief contact sent electricity through me that had nothing to do with anxiety.
“She’s running beautifully,” Lily said as I settled behind the wheel.“Just trust the slide and don’t fight the steering.”
“Right,” I managed, but tension was creeping into my shoulders as I looked at the wet track.
“Henri.”Her hand settled on my arm.“You’ve got this.Slow hands, quick feet.And if it gets ugly, just bring her home.We don’t have to win.”
I nodded, pulling back onto the track even though everything in me was screaming to stay put.
It’s fine.Just drive.
For the first few laps, I maintained control.My inputs were smooth, precise.Exactly what you’d expect from someone second in the championship.But something was building with each corner.Each time the car stepped out, each moment where grip became negotiation, I could feel panic rising like floodwater.Austria had been a dry race, so I had a break from this fear, but driving now, it was starting to come back.A reminder of my F2 race in Barcelona.
The steering felt wrong, too big, too imprecise.Every input seemed delayed and disconnected.
Remember, this isn’t F1.Stop trying to drive like it is.
“Henri, relax your grip.”Lily’s voice came gently.
But I couldn’t.My knuckles were tight, arms rigid, and my breathing was becoming rapid and shallow.Then the rear stepped out unexpectedly.Instead of the smooth correction that should have been muscle memory, I yanked the wheel too hard.
