Do you belive in forever? (Max Verstappen)

Chapter 90

Tired, my head leaned against Max's shoulder, I hadn't slept much that night. Too many things went through my head, yet I tried to be in the here and now with my thoughts. To enjoy the warmth of my boyfriend and the silence in the RedBull motorhome.

"We'd be ready then," Christian pulled us out of our bubble. Together with Max I was supposed to shoot a video for RedBull, because they thought it would be a great idea for the fans. But I didn't know if I liked the idea. I preferred to be in the position of the interviewer rather than the one who had to answer the questions. Even though they promised it would be a fun way.

With little motivation I got up and followed the two up to the roof of the motorhome: "We thought of a little me or you, so that the fans would learn a little more about you and you as a couple." How I hated such games, yet I went along for Max's sake.

Since I knew how to wire myself to a microphone through my job, unlike Max, I didn't need any help and sat down on the right side of the sofa. There a woman came up to me with powder and powdered my face briefly, so that I did not shine in the camera, as if I were sweating. Which I actually did easily, because I was extremely warm, which I rather blamed on my hormones. Since Max had even put on long pants next to me, because he had been too cold, so we had come to the paddock.

"We can still blow off," my boyfriend whispered to me. But I only shook my head slightly. I wasn't someone who agreed and then cancelled, even if I wanted to. But I had given my word and would now go through with it. Although I was afraid to let the public look too deeply into my private life and me. The more one revealed, the greater the attack surface for insults from people on the Internet.

So I waited with a fake smile until we started and Max had greeted the RedBull fans: "Who is the bigger morning grouch?" Immediately I held you up, because in my opinion Max was much worse than me, after all, I also got up in front of him almost every day to work. To my amazement, however, he pointed at me.

"Excuse me, but I'm up before you 90% of the time," I defended myself. But I had forgotten the camera a bit, which the producers probably liked even better.

"So what," came the Dutchman, "you can still be a morning grouch. Since you've been pregnant, it's gotten worse. They shouldn't talk to you in the morning before you've said something, otherwise you'll be in a bad mood all day." I would have liked to disagree, but unfortunately his argument was only too good.

The woman behind the camera smiled broadly at me before turning back to her cards: "Who does more in the household?" As I thought, I chewed lightly on my lip, which Max ended with a light push against my foot. His gaze alone had been enough for me to know what was going on in his head.

Unlike me, he was already holding up the blackboard, but I couldn't decide why I finally lifted it up in the middle: "He doesn't let me do a lot of things anymore, but if someone cooks, it's me and I can still do the laundry. Otherwise he or our cleaning lady will do the things."

"Who is the better driver?", I immediately held up the sign with me. Max, on the other hand, thought for a moment and then also held up the "I" side.

"Hanna had an accident," he began to explain, "and had to give up her driver's license, so I've never driven with her. But just because she built the accident, and driving is my job, definitely me."

I just raised an eyebrow: "We'll see when I get my driver's license back in a few weeks."

"As if I'm going to let you drive. Firstly, you're pregnant and secondly, you've had an accident, so I won't let you drive yourself," my friend escaped. He had probably just forgotten the cameras as much as I had.

A cleared throat from Christian had brought me into reality just in time before I would have told Max the opinion in front of the camera, but I remained silent and just smiled again to the team.