Free Practice | Formula One

Chapter Six: Drunk Or Disgusting?

Almost all of the questions were being thrown at me. I sat on Levi's right while Saint was on his left, the three of us holding our own microphones. I had discarded the upper portion of my race suit after Saint literally drowned me with champagne during the podium ceremony. I would've passed by the motorhome to change but our media team pushed me in the direction of the building where the press conference was being held.

"What are your plans to celebrate?" One of the reporters asked and Saint beat me to it before I could even open my mouth to reply.

"We're taking her out, of course." He grinned while Levi shook his head, bottom lip stuck in between his teeth.

"Are you?" I raised an eyebrow at him, hearing this information for the first time. "And when were you planning on inviting me?"

The reporters laughed as Saint sheepishly smiled at me. "Now?"

I rolled my eyes at him and directed my water bottle at him, playfully squeezing it so that the water would land square on his face. "Moving on." I said after I stuck my tongue out at Saint.

"It's been a great season so far for you, Kai." Another reporter said, her voice echoing against the walls. "Do you feel like an offer might be made before the summer break?"

My media training kicked in as I sat up straighter. With questions like this, you can't really assume something that hasn't been placed in fine print. Doing so would only end up in having a media circus online and people speculating about something that isn't true. "I've only raced in three weekends, so I would say we still have a long way to go. There's no way of saying what happens after this season, so I'm just going to focus on the upcoming races and aim for positive outcomes."

A hand was raised a few rows down just like how these reporters usually do when they want to volunteer to ask a question. I squinted my eyes to see who it was and frowned when I saw the same reporter from Miami. "Last year, Scuderia Leone had a 1-2 finish with Oliver and Saint here in Spain. What can you say about having fewer points for this race compared to the previous season?"

Who the hell is this guy and why does he hate me so much?

I tightened my hold on the microphone as I crossed my legs in front of me. "I'd say both races ended in good results. Saint and Beckett were at the top of their game last year and clearly fought against Levi for the championship. They've been racing for years, especially Beckett, so their skills are more developed than mine." He opened his mouth to interrupt me, but before he could even say a word, I was talking once again. "But, as someone who managed to get a podium finish on her third race in F1, I'd say it's almost on the same level as a 1-2 finish for the team." I smirked at how some of the reporters nodded their heads in agreement, seeing the guy scowl at me.

"And how–"

"Next question." My head snapped to Levi who talked into the microphone, blindly pointing at a reporter from the sea of hands that suddenly sprung up.

Saint had a questioning look on his face as our eyes met, but I just shrugged in return. Levi didn't turn to look back at me. However, the small smirk on his lips told me that he interrupted the reporter on purpose. I listened back to the question being asked to him, feeling a warmth spread through me.

Hours later, I found myself sitting across Rafael as the two of us shared a huge plate of paella. Saint wanted to drag me out the minute we left the paddock, but I told him I had an ongoing tradition for dinner. He reluctantly agreed that they would just pick me up from the restaurant before heading to the club. Of course, I had to promise to buy him a pint of his favorite ice cream so that he'd stop pestering me.