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After the podcast event last night, Éliott and Henri had stopped by my room for a nightcap. There had been considerable amounts of teasing from the Frenchman, most of which I tried to ignore. Still, even as I woke up with a fresh head this morning, there was one comment I couldn’t ignore from Éliott: “Either Luca is the best actor on the grid, or I would say someone has a crush on you.”
I knew Éliott had meant it teasingly, but that comment stuck to me like glue.Why had Luca said so many nice things?We were still new in our relationship; he could have just made a few hints and played it off. Instead, the Italian driver doubled down and dedicated the end of the segment to our relationship.
I picked up my phone from the charger and opened Instagram, trying to take my mind off of the man who was starting to consume my thoughts this morning. I had no idea why I thought social media would be an escape from my relationship. As soon as I opened Instagram, my search page was flooded with photos of Luca and me – F1 page after F1 page full of comments about the podcast.
“Since when did the entire world decide to start listening to podcasts?”I grumbled to myself.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as I came across a photo of us holding hands – well, what seemed like hundreds of pictures of us holding hands. I guess Lizzie was right; the media and fans were going to eat this up.
Not the worst thing, I thought to myself. We wanted to sell this, and my, oh, my, the fans were buying what we were selling.I stopped at a particular post; it was about the podcast from last night.
Filtering through the Instagram comments, I was pleasantly surprised that fans were receptive to Luca's comments about me. After last night’s talk, I was worried that the hate towards me would just increase; jealous fans were always a problem, but to my surprise, the comments were focused on how Luca was good for me and how he had already made me a more likable person.
Well, that is the whole fucking point of this, I thought to myself, trying not to take too much offense. A part of mewaspleased that this stunt was working; the sooner it worked, the sooner I could be rid of him. I heard some noise from the living room and turned to my alarm clock. 7:00 a.m. on the dot. I could still get another hour of sleep since Luca and I weren’t planning on leaving until 9:00 a.m.
Why on earth is Luca up and awake?I hadn’t heard him come in last night, so I assumed that he had come back reasonably late.
I jumped out of bed and headed to the door of my room, incredibly curious to see why the world’s worst morning person was awake. I opened it slightly, only to see Luca Rossi sitting on the sofa, his head in his hands, mumbling quietly to himself. He was rocking back and forth, a look of stress on what little parts of his face I could see. I shut the door slightly, not entirely sure what to do. It seemed like a private moment, and as much as Luca annoyed me, I didn’t feel as though it was right to invade his personal moment.
About a minute later, I heard the bathroom door close. I took that as my queue and tip-toed out into the living room, making my way to the little kitchen. I filled my pour-over kettle with water and began to grind the coffee beans. This week’s coffee beans were from a little roaster in Denver, Colorado, that I had adored, a gift from Oliver Williams, who had recently visited some friends up in the mountains. As I was pouring the water over my coffee beans, I saw Luca leave the bathroom, his shirt now in his hands.I couldn’t help but wonder if Luca walked around shirtless just to annoy me.
I opened my mouth to make a rude comment about this being a public living room where clothes were necessary, but as his face turned around, I could see that his eyes were red and puffy, slightly sunken in. Not the usual bright, determined eyes that I was used to from the Italian. I couldn’t remember a time when I had seen Luca cry, not even after his first win last year. I quickly shut my mouth as Luca simply nodded to me, turning back towards his bedroom.
I’m not sure what prompted me to call out to him; maybe it was because I had experienced the look he had on his face more times than I could count. Anxiety was natural in the racing community, and I couldn’t imagine what this home race meant to him, the pressure that he was under. He had never won before at Monza; he had barely even finished a race here, constant DNF after DNF in recent years. Now, he had a first-class car and a real opportunity to win.
“Want some coffee? There’s enough for two here,” I called out to him. Truth was, the way I drank coffee, there was barely enough for one, but I figured the gesture was probably more important than my coffee addiction.
I could see Luca contemplating my offer, his eyes flickering up and down from the kitchen to his toes. Much to my surprise, he nodded, taking a seat on the sofa –still shirtless. I tried not to stare at him; he was clearly not feeling well, and he certainly didn’t need me ogling him. Although something told me that would, in fact, make himfeelbetter.
As soon as the coffee was ready, I handed him a cup and sat down next to him, letting the silence sift across the room. I didn’t know what to say and considered that maybe I didn’t need to say anything at all. Sometimes, the act of having someone near you was enough.
After a few more minutes of sipping our coffee in silence, Luca finally spoke up. “I’m surprised you take your coffee black.”
“I would never insult a coffee roaster by putting cream and sugar into my coffee,” I gasped, pretending to sound offended, although I was slightly offended on behalf of coffee everywhere.
“A woman of much mystery,” Luca chuckled.
I let a few more moments go by, and then I gathered as much courage as I could to ask about the elephant in the room. “You feeling ok today?”
Luca diverted his beautiful brown eyes from mine, letting out a deep breath. It was as if he had wanted me to ask – like he was too scared to volunteer what he was keeping to himself without my permission.
“Just a lot on my mind, you know, being the home race and all. I have never wanted to win so badly. There are so many expectations for me today – expectations from family, friends, the team, and even the country. An Italian driver hasn’t won at home in well over a decade.” It’s as if the words just kept spilling out of him – like Luca was realizing as every word left his mouth, the load on his mind was a little easier. I just sat and listened, internally processing everything he said. I could feel his words in my heart because I had the same feelings about Monaco.
“Sometimes I feel like it’s all too much, like it would just be easier if my car crashed, and then I wouldn’t have to face the possibility of completing the race, the possibility of not even making it to the podium.”His last comment shocked me a bit, although part of me understood. I had never seen Luca this vulnerable before, so I took in what he said and thought carefully about my next statement.
“The only person that you can let down is yourself,” I said finally. “You don’t owe anyone anything. You drive for you. You’re many things, Luca, but you aren’t a coward. You’re going to drive this weekend with the same amount of passion you have for your country, and I think it’ll transpire into something you’ll be proud of.”
Luca finally looked up; his gaze felt like it was starting to burn a hole into my mind. For a moment, his eyes drifted to my lips, and I could feel butterflies once again forming in my stomach as Luca licked his lips, his face starting to soften and his eyes just ever so slightly darkening. As the silence continued to sit comfortably over us, I could see Luca begin to slowly lean in, his eyes burning into mine with his teeth slightly biting on his bottom lip.
Is Luca Rossi going to kiss me?I panicked for a bit and then considered why I hadn’t leaned away, why I was still staring at him.Did I want him to kiss me?
Before either of us could process what was about to happen, a loud banging sound came from our doorway. Luca and I both jumped, and Luca pulled back from me, his cheeks a little red now, as if he was slightly embarrassed by the intense moment we had just shared.
“Georgie, any chance you’re up?” I heard Lily on the other end of the door.
I quickly scrambled from my spot on the sofa. Lily and I were close, but it was unusual to hear her knocking on my door at 7:30 in the morning. I opened the door for her, and there stood in front of me was a slightly ruffled Lily.
“You alright, Lil?” I asked, looking her up and down, checking for any visible signs of injury. She nodded shyly, clearly a little embarrassed that she had come to my room so early while I was still in my pajamas. I opened the door and motioned for her to come in.
