Heartfelt (Formula 1 fanfiction)

Episode 2

Since the interview started, about half an hour has passed and so far I have not received any questions. Thank goodness. It's hard to think logically when you're sitting next to the demigod who was a true, full-on jerk, but also a sexy jerk. And I don't know if it was on purpose or by accident, but in that half hour, he sometimes touched his knee to mine, or even did it with his hand. Seriously, I don't know what to think. He was being a total jerk at the door, although I know why since Arthur mentioned it. And now here, in front of all these reporters - figuratively, - but touching? And even though I don't turn my head towards him, I can see out of the corner of my eye that he glances my way occasionally. And it's the same with Arthur, although he doesn't touch me or anything. God, and there's still an hour and a half to go. What's going to happen later, please?!

- My next question is for America Akkerman. Ms. Akkerman, first of all, congratulations on your victory. And secondly, can you tell us what it's like to be a woman and win in a sport like this?

- Thank you. Well, to be honest, I still don't realise that after my Formula 3, I am now Formula 2 champion. What's it like to drive here as a woman? Actually, it's the same as driving on the road, except that I'm not doing three hundred km/h on the road," I said.

- And if you were to receive an offer from a Formula 1 team, which team would you sign for?

- There are three teams that are very close to my heart. McLaren, Mercedes and Ferrari.

- Why these three teams?

- My grandfather won the world championship with McLaren, my dad raced for Mercedes and my godfather raced for Ferrari. These three teams hold a very special place in the heart of our family. Of course, if I were to move to another team, I wouldn't mind.

- Was your grandfather a racer? Up until now, the only people we knew in the Formula 1 world were his father, Casper Akkerman, and his godfather, Michael Schumacher. That's all we know about!" the reporter turned around inquiringly, before the others started to loudly agree. I waited for tempers to calm down and then replied.

- Well, so far, everyone knows me as America Akkerman. Outside of close family and friends, few know the truth. The truth is, my full name is America Senna Akkerman de Silva. And Ayrton Senna de Silva was my grandfather," I said. I said it in front of the world that the famous Ayrton Senna de Silva was my grandfather. God, if he was here, he'd be jumping around the room right now. In the silence that followed my words, I instead fixated on my hand resting on the table, clenched spasmodically into a fist. My stomach started to lift up and down, my legs were shaking, and now it didn't help that Charles had touched his knee to mine. The next moment, Arthur put his hand on my arm and squeezed hard.

- What guarantee do I have that you are really the grandson of Ayrton Senna de Silva? After all, Ayrton never had any children! He died without having one!" asked Dexter Prescott.

- Look, I'm not going to prove my point. Me and my family and our close circle of friends know the truth. If you don't believe it, that's your problem, not mine, I'll live happily ever after.

- So what if you made all this up so that one of the teams would take pity on you and make you an offer? It's a well-known fact that there's no place for women in this sport!" he asked the next offensive question. Because, yes, Dexter Prescott was not the kind and unassuming little reporter he had been. Oh, no. He'd gone to the vulture. It's just that I have a few secrets of my own. I leaned back with a sly smile as I took a sip. Setting my glass back on the table, I stared at the buffoon again.

- You know, I'm not the one who's lying, you and I.' Mr. Prescott swallowed and quietly sat back down. He knew I had a winning case, but I wouldn't let myself. I think you have some questions for me. Or if you've run out of questions, can I ask you one? Mr Prescott stood up with great difficulty and raised the microphone to his mouth.

- Yes, Ms Akkerman?

- Ms Senna-Akkerman de Silva, if you please. And my question is, why are you pretending to be a reporter when you're not? The throngs of reporters were no longer concerned with me, but with Mr. Prescott. Arthur and Lewis could barely contain their laughter, and Charles was the only one who continued to sit beside me with a wooden face. Then, with great difficulty, the murmuring died down, and the journalists, still busy with each other. I seemed to have managed to throw the poor chap into the deep end. Anyway, next time he'll accept what he's told. Ah, good thing I'm a Leo.

- What was that for?" hissed Charles, turning to me.

- I turned to him, stunned.

- What was it all for? Do you enjoy having everything and everyone revolve around you?" he turned off his microphone and asked the question. I turned off my own microphone before I answered.

- It was about my family. He was attacking my family and I was just defending him. If it was the other way round, you would have done the same thing! In fact, don't tell me that if Arthur had just been asked a damn spineless question, you wouldn't have stood up for him. 'Don't you dare say that to me,' I hissed back, even though I wanted to scream at him.

- That would be my business! On the other hand, Arthur's a big enough boy to defend himself, you don't need me for that!" he said, and grabbing his phone from the table, he tore off the mickey and its accessories and walked out. I did the same and followed him.

- Stop, Leclerc!", I chased him down the long corridor. For a moment he faltered in his step, but he didn't stop. Finally, walking along the pit lane, jogging in my case, I caught up with him at his rest stop. Charles almost slammed the door on me, but I didn't let him. Then, entering the messy room, I closed the door behind me. "What the hell is wrong with you?", I crossed my arms over my chest. Charles sat down bored on the part of his couch that still had an empty seat.

- 'Get lost,' he said casually, though it was true that there was a little edge in his voice. I, however, did not relent; I drew nearer and stood before him. Thus I looked down on him, while he looked up at me. Was I not clear enough? "Shall I repeat it in Chinese, so that you may understand it, if you don't know English?" he stood up, shouting. There was only one problem with that, and that was that the sudden momentum made me lose my balance and I almost fell backwards when Charles caught me around the waist. My chest slammed against his chest, my hands gripping his strong, muscular and broad shoulders. He supported my waist with one hand and my back with the other, pulling me closer to him. Our faces were so close I could feel his minty breath. Charles' lips parted wider, his eyes found mine immediately and he didn't let go. No matter how much I mantra to myself to look away from him, look away from him, I just couldn't. I just couldn't tear my eyes away from those greenish eyes that, even from a distance, let alone up close, screamed pain and sadness. I knew that pain. I knew how hard it was. I knew it because I had been through it myself, and I had pushed people away from me, even though they were trying to help. I wanted to go through it alone, even though it almost didn't end well. I didn't ask for help, due to lack of sleep, and I almost ended up in a wall during one of the races. Charles needs help, and he needs it very quickly or he's afraid he'll end up doing something stupid.

Before he could pull away for good, I pulled him into a tight hug. Even though he struggled, tried to break free - I knew he'd want me in the deepest depths of hell after this - but I wouldn't let go. He needed that hug and sooner or later he would shut up and see it.

- "Let me go!" he growled softly.

- Believe me, Charles, I know what you're going through. And believe me, I need this hug,' I whispered into the crook of his neck. Charles was still struggling, fidgeting in my arms, finally giving in to himself and hugging me tightly. I knew he was trying to be strong, but his tears soon made their way.

- It's okay! Cry it out," I whispered in his ear, stroking his back. Charles nodded a little and let his tears well up from the depths of his soul.

It took me about half an hour to console his Monaco. In those thirty minutes, we didn't say anything, but we didn't have to. In fact, I understood what he was going through without words. Arthur told me that his brother had broken off a five-year relationship, quite turbulently. He caught his girlfriend being helped by one of his "nice" friends... n***d. So yes, I could understand. My ex cheated on me too, just when I needed him most. When I needed his support the most, he chose to have fun with my ex-best friend. If anyone, I can understand that. I can sympathize with him. And when I say it will get better with time, it will pass, it's not out of thin air. Because it really will; it hurts at the beginning, we suffer a little bit, and then we accept it, accept it and move on. It's always like that. One's soul can take a lot of strain. The question is how strong the owner of the soul is to bear these burdens. My soul, over the years, through years of disappointment, training, struggle and perseverance, has hardened. I became strong, both physically and mentally. If I take my cue from his brother, Charles will recover quickly. At least I hoped he would. I believe that the Monaco boy will be as strong as I am because of the break-up.

Charles pulled away from me, wiped his tear-stained face, and then got up from the couch and started pacing up and down the lounge. I just watched him walk from one point to another and back again. He put his hands on his hips, and though I wasn't sure, his whitening fingers suggested that he was squeezing that spot hard. He was thinking, perhaps brooding to himself, it was written all over his face. I wanted to speak, to say something, but I chose silence. And how well I did!

- Get out!" he said in a forceful voice. My eyebrows shot up, my lips pressed into a line. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Especially not after what had happened in the last half hour.

- I stood up, stunned. I gave him a chance to correct himself.

- I think you heard what I said. But if not, I repeat myself; get out!" he shouted the last word. So no, he didn't want to correct himself to send me away nicer. Very kind, what can I say...

- You're behaving like a gentleman now!", I finally found my voice. I didn't move an inch. The man slowly advanced towards me, intimidating me. But I was not afraid of him, nor of the absurdity of the situation. Millimetres separated us, he was so close to me. And although I tried to shut down all my feelings, to shut them away, I couldn't. And my body trembled as he looked at me. My heart began to pound painfully. I wanted to put my hand on his chest, but the slightest alarm in my brain told me not to. Charles inhaled sharply, causing his chest to heave and heave violently. His eyes were full of hatred, deep pain, anger, suffering and disappointment. And I still understood.

- Go away. Go away. Out of my rest!" she hissed softly. With each word, my heart pounded painfully. It hurt that he was doing this.

- If you'd offered me the Ferrari seat...

- "That's not going to happen," he interjected immediately.

- 'If it does and I accept and we become teammates, will you still treat me like this?' I asked, pushing him back.

- No, I won't behave like that with you!" he sat down on the sofa.

- Really?

- Seriously. And you know why not?

- Why?

- Because it will never happen!" he stood in front of me again.

- Wanna bet?

- "You bet!" he held out his hand. And I shook his hand.

- "And the stakes?" he asked when he let go of my hand.

- If I win, which means that I'll be offered a seat, you'll be nicer to me, or I can make a request of you, which I can always ask you to do.

- I like it. And if I win?

- If you win... you tell me what you want then!

- If I win... then I want you out of Formula One!" he smiled slyly at me! And I swallowed. Because I didn't want that. I really didn't. And I stupidly agreed to this bet. And I can always ask you a favour!

- I swallowed again and pushed him away from me, leaving his resting place. I hate... You nasty, sneaky, green-eyed bastard!

- America?" came a voice from behind me.

- Not now, Arthur,' I snapped at him.

- What happened?" he followed me.

- 'Your brother and I made a f*****g bet... ah, never mind,' I growled, and turning to my own resting place, I strode out and closed the door behind me, shutting out everything and everyone. 'What have I got myself into, my goodness?