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eight.

"How do you think you'll qualify today, Charlie?"

Charles laughed as I fake interviewed him.

We were sitting in the Ferrari lounge in between Free Practice 3 and Qualifying. It wasn't a long period of time, but enough for the drivers to rest and recuperate, strategize even, before hopping back into their cars for the last time before the actual race tomorrow.

"Well, considering I finished at P5 in practice, I'm hopeful that this means I'll qualify high." he played into the ruse.

I nodded, pretending I was really taking in the information he was giving me. "What about your competitors? Specifically, Max Verstappen?"

"Well, he finished P2 in practice, but knowing Maxie, he'll qualify first no problem." I laughed at Charles' use of Max's nickname. Most of us only used it playfully, mostly when we were drunk.

I was only able to relax in the lounge with Max for a short while. Caleigh would need me out by my camera about 15 minutes before Quali started in case any of the drivers decided to stop by for a last minute interview - none were required, but we always like to give them the opportunity.

My head fell to rest on the back of the couch we'd been sitting on. I was sipping on a rather weakly made cocktail while Charles was downing a water bottle. I could see his longing stares to the drink in my hand, but we both knew not to mix alcohol and driving.

"You doing okay?" he mumbled, his posture now matching mine. The warmth in his eyes translating over to me, making me want to scoot closer to him.

I nodded, tears stinging my eyes. As long as I don't think about him, I'm fine.

"When I'm distracted, yes." I spoke truthfully. I would've lied straight through my teeth, but Charles has always been able to see right through me. There was no way I was getting anything over on him.

He reached a hand out for me, taking the hand that was resting on my lap in his grasp. "I've watched some of your interviews, especially the ones where he's nearby, you definitely can't tell anything happened. So, you're doing a good job."

"I just wish I didn't have to fake it." I let out a shaky sigh to which Charles responded to by running his thumb over my knuckles. "I wish that I could just be perfectly fine already."

"No one is blaming you for not being. None of us. Not me, Danny, Max, Kelly, Grace... Caleigh even. No one."

I looked down at our connected hands and blinked away my tears.

Charles squeezed my hand, "You're doing a lot better than I would be if she was here." I squeezed his hand back.

Both of us have had a terrible past few months, but we were making it. We were trying and we were healing, no matter how slow the process.

"Time to head back out, Ads." Caleigh announced, approaching the area of the lounge we were seated in.

I sent Charles a soft smile before joining Caleigh and going back to my position. This just meant Quali was about to start and things were about to get real again.

And sure enough, it did.

Qualifying was intense and I think I held my breath for most of it.

When the results popped up on the reporters' screen, I was shocked. Well, sort of. Max securing Pole Position was no surprise. I was giddy when I saw that Charles had landed at P3. And I think something happened to my heart when Lando came in at P11.

What happened? He never does that bad.

He was going to be in a tizzy over this. There was no way he'd be in a good mood for the rest of the day.

My attention came back to and my heart returned to its normal spot in my chest when I saw Charles practically skipping over to where I stood. I couldn't help the smile that stretched across my face at the sight of my best friend.

I could already tell he was going to be my golden boy for interviews this season. "Chalres Leclerc, P3, how does that feel for the first Quali for 2023?"

"Amazing, actually. I'm looking forward to the race tomorrow." he let his smile get even bigger on his face. "I think it is going to be very competitive and I'm ready to experience the thrill of it tomorrow."

I asked a few more questions before ending his interview, immediately reaching out to take him into a hug, his sweaty body and all. I could feel the excitement coursing through him as we shared an embrace.

My hand held the back of his head as I hugged him and his sweaty hair didn't gross me out for once, I was too proud of him to care about how gross it felt. He squeezed me even tighter before letting go so he could head off to the next reporter begging for his time.

"Dinner later?" he raised an eyebrow, his eyes locked on mine.

I nodded, smiling once more at him, "Of course, invite the others?"

He nodded in return, disappearing further down.

My attention was pulled elsewhere during my surprising gap between interviews. The familiar papaya color of his racing suit catching my eye.

Sure enough, his disappointment in himself could be seen from all the way over here. If there's one thing I remembered about him, he wore his emotions all over his face. And, unfortunately, I knew that the reporter was going to use this to his advantage. I could already tell by the sleezy smile on the man's face.

"P11, not your best work. Do you think you can pull a point position tomorrow in the race?" The man asked. I winced at the insult.

"I'm hopeful."

He was only giving short answers, his tell-tale sign of being in a less than superb mood.

I watched and listened as the man drilled him with questions, each receiving a short answer. My mind muddled in confusion at my surprising lack of interviews. I usually didn't have this big of a lull. Maybe Caleigh could tell I was distracted and sending them all to Lissie? Who knows? But it sure did feel weird to be standing here able to listen to my ex-boyfriend answer questions he definitely had no desire to.

"I have a question that everyone's dying to know. What is going on between you and your girlfriend, F1 reporter Adelaide Moreau? There's been no new content or sightings or content of the two of you in a couple of months now, she wasn't even seen arriving with you or spending breaks in the Mclaren lounge even though she's here. Trouble in paradise?"

My heart dropped, felt like someone was standing on it. Had he really just asked that?

Lando's face went hard at the question, he was rightfully irritated, hurt maybe. "I'm here to talk about my driving, not personal life. Do you have any other questions about my work here today?" He was trying to stay calm, I could tell.

I wanted to run away and cry. Or run over and hug him, I wasn't sure which one. But I did know that I wanted to punch that reporter in the face.