those who play with fire tend to be consumed by it
word count: 6.2k
she’s baaaaaaaaaaaack!!!!!!
It was heavier than she expected.
Actually, she hadn’t known what she expected.
Sam had been dreaming of this moment her entire life. And all that time, she hadn’t considered too much just how heavy a Formula 1 race winner’s trophy could actually feel.
Her heart was oddly calm given the situation. Her right hand rested gently over where it lay thrumming behind her rib cage. She’d thought it would be racing—beating erratically because of all the adrenaline. But it beat steadily, somehow seemingly falling into rhythm with the Star Spangled Banner blasting over the speakers.
It hadn’t come easy. The race was long, hard-fought, and it had kept her looking in her mirrors nearly the entire time. But she knew the win was hers to take. At that one moment, a moment she knew she was likely to never forget, Sam knew for a fact that she was about to join the long but exclusive list of those to take the top step of a podium, and she was going to be the first woman in history to ever do it.
Samantha Thompson pitted for a used set of mediums, and if you ask me, the moment she passes Leclerc and can build a decent gap, she should be able to coast to the top step of the podium.
And what’s a decent gap in your opinion?
If she can pass him and get a 2-3 second advantage within a few laps, Leclerc’s 5 lap old softs would disintegrate far too quickly. It’s risky. Would the team let him push but risk him having to come in again with 10 laps to go? Or would they want him to conserve his tires and keep a podium position? It’s only the beginning of the season so their strategists have a bit of leeway with their call, but anything can happen.
Well here she goes! She barely nudges ahead into the turn, it’s two wide! Who’s going to pull ahead into the straight?!
And it’s the Mercedes!
But Charles isn’t going to give up just yet. Let’s have listen to his radio.
“DRS zone is coming up. 0.7 gap to Thompson. Push push.”
“Not now!”
Honestly Crofty I don’t think I’d be too happy if my engineer tried to radio me during a wheel to wheel battle either.
Thompson knows how to defend dare I say better than any other driver on this grid; she’s ruthless. Charles needs to close the 1.5 second gap in this DRS zone or he’s going to get left in the dust.
He’s got the extra boost! But Sam is not giving up easily! She’s taking the racing line and not letting go, Martin. Her first win is at stake here and she’s not going down without a fight.
Charles isn’t giving up that easily either, he’s going for the overtake!
Leclerc dives to the inside—there’s almost contact, but she covers it off! What a defensive move from Thompson!
Incredible! She’s not having any of it! Charles recovered nicely, but he’s falling behind desperately after wobbling to avoid contact like that. Sam has pulled 2.6 seconds ahead!
Martin, that is quite the gap to build up and his tires are fading quickly after a battle like that.
“Conserve your tires, Carlos is 2.1 behind.”
And that very well may have been the move to secure Samantha Thompson her first ever Grand Prix win.
It had been 112 days since she had last driven under these Saudi Arabian lights, at the exact track where her career nearly ended last season. The track where she purposefully drove into the second starting grid spot instead of the first. Where she was shown the black flag before the end of lap 1. Where she disappeared leaving only 4 letters of explanation in her wake. One small decision had nearly altered the course of her entire life, and it would’ve been successful if she hadn’t decided to let go of her anger and make such great friends in the paddock throughout the season.
She thought about the scared, closed off girl she was in her first press conference in Bahrain last year, not interested in making friends but hellbent on making enemies if she needed to.
She’d had friends like Molly and Mick, but the friends she made despite her initial outlook are what surpised her the most.
Friends like Daniel.
Daniel, who she learned to hate before she eventually learned to love.
Daniel, who’s ear-to-ear grin she saw piercing through the crowd of paddock personnel below the podiums at this very moment.
Despite his own driver duties, despite his poor finish, despite the risk it held of exposing their relationship, he was here. She knew he would be. But seeing him made it more real. It reminded her that not only was she in love with Daniel Ricciardo, but that he was in love with her too.
Ladies and gentleman, we have never seen anything like this in Formula 1 history. Samantha Thompson is the first woman to ever take the checkered flag, with a performance that has been nothing short of extraordinary. Listen to that crowd! They are absolutely ecstatic. It's a moment decades in the making, and she's made it her own. The way she navigated that final lap—precision, confidence... This is what champions are made of!
You’re right Martin, and I think if she keeps delivering results like this, she may very well be a contender for that title. What a victory this is. To make her way through the pack the way she did, to manage the pressure from the Ferraris behind her— it’s an absolute statement. Sam has just told us not to count her out this season.
This is more than just a win, Samantha Thompson is shattering boundaries. And look at this! She’s slowing down in the runoff.
Is she— she is!
She’s doing well-deserved donuts. You can feel the emotion in this celebration, Crofty. THIS is what Formula 1 is all about— passion, victory, the thrill of competition. Compared to last year, the team over at Mercedes has given her an inch and she has turned it into a mile. We’re witnessing history and it’s absolutely iconic.
Just look at the smoke pouring from her tires. The crowd is loving it! She’s giving the people a wave as she slows to a stop! I love it! Dare I say we’ve got a new fan favorite?
Maybe, Martin. Or maybe they’re cheering at the McLaren of Daniel Ricciardo slowing down as he passes through the haze of smoke.
And look at that, he’s pumping his fist in the air in congratulations. And she’s doing it right back. What a— is he knocking on his helmet? Haha what in the world was that? She did it too! You saw that right?
What an odd little exchange.
I love to see the camaraderie between drivers. Sometimes it feels forced, but I do believe these other drivers on the grid would not deny that a part of them is actually happy for her.
She’s made friends with a lot of the drivers since joining the grid, so I believe it. And there goes Max Verstappen, giving her a wave as he passes as well.
There you have it folks. Samantha Thompson, the first woman— and American— to win a Formula 1 Grand Prix, in front of thousands of fans here in Saudi Arabia, and a world watching on TV.
And her story seems to have just begun. To be watching this moment, especially after everything that happened last year, it feels quite special.
I truly think we have only scratched the surface with The Hell Raiser, and this is simply the start of something huge.
Absolutely. What a day for Samantha Thompson. What a day for Mercedes. What a day for Formula 1. And I think we are going to be talking about this moment for a very long time.
The night air was thick with the roar of engines and the scent of burning rubber, and for the first time in years, Sam felt like she was floating. The Mercede’s engine hummed beneath her as she slowed down on the straightaway into Parc Ferme, her heartbeat still racing from the exhilaration of it all.
The crowd's cheers were like a cyclone thrumming against her helmet, a sound she had always dreamed of hearing, but feared she never would.
The placard with the number 1 emblazoned on it grew closer and closer until she kissed it with her car’s front wing. She stopped, her muscle memory hitting the proper buttons to put the car in park and kill the engine.
Sam’s breath caught in her throat, and for a brief second, it was like no one else existed. She was the first and only woman to win in Formula 1, the one who had shattered all those glass ceilings, but in this moment, with the placard just beyond her halo, she felt like the only woman on the planet.
She blinked rapidly, nervous that this was just another dream she’d been having since she was a little girl.
But when she opened her eyes, that number 1 was still staring back at her.
It was real. Finally.
The next few minutes flew by in a blur, and before she knew it she was giving the crowd her signature curtsey and trading her trophy for a bottle of champagne.
“3, 2, 1!”
Everyone from the Mercedes garage shouted and pumped their fist into the air. Sam was in the middle of the group, her trophy sat at her feet, a pit board behind her spelling out her most recent accomplishment for everyone:
SAM P1
More cameras than she could keep track of flashed in front of her as they captured the moment.
To her left sat George, to her right Molly. Lewis and Suzie were crouched down on either side behind her.
Despite having been unable to stop smiling since the checkered flag was waved, Sam’s neurons fired the signal to her brain to do just that. She didn’t smile any wider; that wasn't possible. But her endorphins, her adrenaline, her oxytocin and every other happy chemical her body was capable of producing surged at that exact moment. Everything about it was all she’d been dreaming of since she was a young girl.
The trophy in front of her. The supportive team surrounding her. Her best friend and teammate on either side of her. Mick standing behind the cameras grinning. And somewhere off waiting to congratulate her in private was her boyfriend. She’d defied the odds. She’d proved all those people wrong. She’d done the seemingly impossible. Sam had won her first of many F1 races.
Sam had shown them exactly what it means to drive like a girl.
Cameras continued to crowd her vision, and she had no idea where to even look. But as her subconscious faded back into the moment and she heard somebody count down from 3, she knew what was coming next.
After 1, the whole team shouted. Sam pumped her trophy into the air.
Then came the next round of cheers; she thrusted her trophy high again.
Finally, everyone shouted one last time and champagne rained down across the group. Some people tried to run out of the way, but most stayed and celebrated.
In the blink of an eye, Sam was being hoisted into the air and bombarded with sparkling wine. Mick appeared and laughed as he sprayed it in her face. Mechanics she couldn’t see dumped it down her race suit. Molly had no shame as she drenched her best friend’s hair to the point of soaking it. It came from every direction and it came all at once.
This is absolutely what she imagined being waterboarded felt like.
But she laughed. She smiled. And she enjoyed every moment of it. She reveled in it.
Samantha Thompson was victorious. Nobody could take that from her.
“God, I still can’t believe this is real!” Molly squealed, “I mean, I literally believe it’s real because you totally deserve this and we all knew it was coming. You’re more than capable, I just mean we’ve always dreamt of this day and—“
Sam laughed through her grin, “I know, Moo.”
The celebrations were damp, the handshakes were sticky, but the smiles were genuine. It was overwhelming to say the least, but she wouldn’t change a minute of it.
Lewis placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder from behind, and she turned to see his gleaming grin.
“Thank you,” she started off with immediately, “this is all because of you and the chance you gave me. Seriously, I owe you everything.”
He shook his head, “This has little to do with me and everything to do with you. Incredible drive today, Sam. I’m looking forward to seeing what else you can accomplish this season.”
She smiled, and offered him a thank you.
The team principal smiled even wider and gave her a pat on the back, “Now, let’s get a photo with just us and George.”
His head searched left and right in the crowd for any sign of the other Brit, and Sam continued to thank, hug, and pose for photos with those who came up to her. She was none the wiser at the absence of her teammate.
“Where’d he run off to?”
“No idea,” Sam responded, finishing up an autograph for a little girl, “maybe he snuck off to media or something.” George was the last thing on her mind as she signed another cap stuck out in her direction.
“It’s alright,” Lewis said beckoning for the team social media admin to come his way, “just the two of us will have to suffice.”
A photo was snapped, which would later make its debut on the team instagram, but no sooner was it interrupted by another world champion.
“Seb!” Sam squealed.
Sebastian Vettel opened his arms wide to embrace Sam, just as he’d done since she was a young girl.
“Gut gemacht!” Well done!
“Danke,” she replied with a grin. His smile nearly matched hers in caliber.
His eyes softened along with his smile. One of his hands remained on her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, while his other hand pointed a finger up at the stars of the Saudi Arabian sky.
“And to think he got a front row seat to see his daughter win her first race.”
Sam smiled and let out a light laugh, trying to deflect the tears she felt brewing, but also because she hadn’t mentioned the stars to anyone in years.
The stars she had always told herself were her dad watching over her since he had passed.
But she knew Sebastian, and she knew he wouldn’t forget something like that, no matter how long ago or how many times she had mentioned it. He was attentive, he was kind, and he was somebody Sam had considered a father figure ever since she lost her own. She wished her dad was here— she wanted nothing more than to see him, or even just tell him about it.
Yet this was as close as she was going to get, and she was grateful Seb had given her that reminder.
“Thank you,” she whispered to the older driver, bringing him in for another hug before he went on his way.
She tilted her chin to the sky and the corners of her lips turned upwards. There were no stars twinkling here or there, not a single one appearing any time she looked left or right. Despite the intense light pollution of the city drowning out the sky, Sam knew there were stars up there even though she couldn’t see them; just like she knew her dad was with her all the time even though he’d passed long ago. The symbolism of it all made her lips for a thin smile.
Tonight had already been so full of emotions, and she had been overcome by so many in such a short amount of time that she didn’t even know what she was feeling at this exact moment. But when it came to her dad, Sam never got into her car without thinking about him. Matter of fact, she knew he was with her from the moment she buckled her safety restraints all the way until she unbuckled them, so she had no doubt he was there with her when she crossed the finish line. Everything about it felt bittersweet.
Sebastian’s words echoed in her mind. Of all the races she was to claim her first win during, it had been a night race. A race under the stars, a race where she felt even closer to her father. Almost as if it was meant to be. More than anything, it brought Sam comfort. After all, he was the reason she was here today— both on this earth and in her career— this was what they had always wanted, and she had just accomplished something they had dreamed about.
She knew wherever he was, he was proud of her.
And tonight made one thing clear:
Now Samantha was determined to give him even more to be proud of.
On any normal day a party so extravagant—thrown solely in her honor—would’ve made Sam cringe.
But tonight was not any normal night.
An entire club rented out for Mercedes team personnel celebrations, with the invite graciously extended to those who wished to celebrate Sam’s first win in Formula One.
The overhead lights flashed multicolored, while music blared through speakers making it difficult to hear the person next to you over the vibrations of the bass. Most importantly, the celebratory drinks were flowing.
Sam and Molly had stumbled their way back into their hotel room knowing they had just under 45 minutes to shower themselves free of sticky champagne and change into their outfits for the night. Luckily (as she reminded Sam about every 5 minutes) before the 2022 season started, Molly had insisted on packing each of them a fun little dress for when this day would finally arise— Sam’s first win.
The driver’s dress was gold and sparkly— not her usual style, but she knew Molly had good intentions with the significance of the color for the occasion. As she was slipping the straps over her shoulders a knock rang at their hotel room door, interrupting Molly’s tangent about how she’d have to find them new dresses because outfit repeating was simply not an option.
Looking through the peephole, Sam didn’t recognize the man before her. She checked her watch: they had a little under 10 minutes to get out the door. There was time to see what he needed.
“Hi,” she said cautiously, peeking from the crack she’d created in the doorway.
“Samantha Thompson?”
She nodded, still unsure of what was going on exactly.
With that, the man walked out of the door frame, making Sam stand up straight in confusion. Before she could step into the hallway to see where the mysterious man had disappeared off to, a giant sea of red took up her vision.
“Oh,” She blurted out in surprise.
This tiny man was holding the biggest bouquet of red roses she had ever seen; it had to have been half his entire body size.
“Where should I put these?” Sam picked up the slightest tremble in his voice, from the weight she assumed.
“Thank you so much, I can just take them off your hands,” she smiled, taking a step forward to do just that.
From behind her, she heard Molly come out of the bathroom and into the suite.
“Do you still have those earrings— Holy Macaroni! Who robbed the Queen’s flower bed!”
Laughing, Sam closed the door and set the flowers down on the coffee table gently.
“I think I have a guess,” she smirked, grabbing the small white card tucked perfectly between a few of the flowers.
for the woman who can do it all. you never cease to amaze me. I can’t wait to celebrate you tonight, and every time after that.
xx your daniel
“You’re whipped!” Molly shrieked in delight at the bright pink rush of color to Sam’s cheeks.
“Maybe I am,” she grinned, placing the card back in the flowers and grabbing the shoes Molly had left out for her.
“It looks good on you,” her best friend smiled ear to ear.
“Enough with the cheesy stuff, I’m gonna be late to my own party.”
Sam deflected, cheeks red as the roses, and Molly let her. Because she wasn’t being defensive or secretive as she had before; this time, she was in love. And Molly would let her deflect because she was coy over a boy any day.
When the girls made it downstairs, Mick, Jack, and Daniel were all waiting for them in the lobby while security created a path between the fans waiting with their phones out, and the car waiting to take them to the club.
“Everybody else is already in the car,” Mick said, snaking his arm around Molly’s waist. She pecked him on the cheek in return.
“Wow,” Daniel and Jack awed at the same time when they saw Sam.
While Daniel kept his eyes locked on Sam, Jack turned his head ever so slightly in the direction of his fellow aussie.
“The party has arrived,” She grinned, ruffling Jack’s styled hair. He huffed out a laugh and tried to fix it as they walked to the car.
There was something about Daniel’s response that threw Jack off: Daniel’s wow did not sound like a wow you gave to a close friend, and he knew because it sounded nothing like his own.
Jack blinked, trying to focus on something, anything, else. The sound of the cars in the distance, the buzz of the crowd outside, anything to bring him back down to earth. But the protective younger brother side of him couldn’t stop milling it over in his head.
“Wow”
Huh… he wasn’t sure that was something a just-a-friend says in a tone like that, is it? He reared his head back a little bit, trying to keep his confusion to himself.
Well, he said it, didn’t he? And Sam is nothing more than a friend— an older sister figure if anything more.
Interesting…
Jack shrugged.
Those whiskey shooters he had in the hotel room really must be going to his head.
He shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts.
Yeah, that’s all it is. Just a compliment. Nothing more.
Jack was overthinking, that’s all. With a quick rub of his eyes he forgot the whole thing ever happened— only reminding himself he needed to stick to the non-hard alcohol…
Meanwhile, it took everything in Daniel to keep his hands in his pockets.
“So,” he started, bumping his shoulder gently into Sam’s as they walked, “did you happen to get anything delivered to your room while you were there?”
Her smile fell, “No, why? Was I supposed to?”
Daniel stopped walking, a look of horror across his features.
Sam couldn’t keep a straight face any longer.
“They’re gorgeous,” she smiled, his shoulders dropping in relief. He started walking again and they made their way towards the door. “Thank you,” she smiled even wider, glancing at him from his side discreetly as they approached the glass doors separating them from the fans.
“Any time,” he smiled and opened the door for her.
If there was one thing everyone knew about Sam, it was that she swore the drinks tasted better when they were free. And tonight was no different.
She had broken from the small group of friends that had stayed by her side all night. It had been hours of celebrating with anybody that would cross her path. Whether it was on the dance floor, at the bar, or just chatting in a booth, Sam was reveling in every moment of it.
Despite his protests, she offered to go grab the next round of drinks for her and Daniel. Her heels were killing her from just standing, so she thought a little walking might do the trick.
And that's how she found herself tucked between two groups of people engaged in their own little worlds, flagging down a bartender for drinks. It was the first time all night she hadn't been engaged in conversations— she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the small break just a bit.
“Wow,” someone came up beside Sam and rested their elbows on the bar. Just from the look of the pink, showy drink held loosely between their well manicured fingers, Sam knew it was Lindsay. It was still weird to act like there had never been any bad blood between them, but Sam choked it down and turned to smile at the blonde.
Lindsay continued, “I never pegged you as a beer girl.” She gestured towards the Corona bottle with a lime wedge sticking out of the top that Sam was holding in her left hand.
Sam looked between Lindsay and the bottle and chuckled, “You’re absolutely right, I wouldn’t choose to drink a beer even if it’s all there was left. It’s not for me.”
With perfect timing, the bartender dropped off a highball glass filled with bubbly, golden liquid, garnished with a lime slice.
“This,” Sam said, pulling the glass towards her and messily trying to corral the straw between her fingers, “lovely little tequila beverage is for me.” She took a sip as Lindsay laughed. “That,” she clarified, pointing to the bottle, “is for Daniel.”
Sam had a smile on her face, which she found rather shocking considering who she was talking to. The most shocking part is that it wasn’t even forced. Lindsay was acting so…normal. Sam pushed gown her gut feeling that they were physically incapable of getting along, like ever. Maybe they could get along after all…
“So are you guys a thing, or just like sleeping with each other on the down-low?”
Always trust your gut, kids.
And never trust the alcohol.
Without a doubt the question took her by surprise. If she had just taken a sip of her tequila-ginger ale, it would have gone spraying out of her mouth like it does in the movies.
A part of Sam wanted to get offended and roll her eyes at Lindsay jumping to conclusions and throwing any ounce of feminism out the window by assuming she and Daniel were more than friends just because she had bought him a drink in a crowded bar.
But she couldn’t. Because they were apparently friends now.
Well, and also because Lindsay was technically correct, but that’s besides the point.
“Excuse me?” Sam tried to force out a laugh, one that made her sound far more drunk than she actually was, and then stubbed it out by taking a long, long sip from the cocktail in her hand.
Lindsay giggled and swirled the drink in her hand, “You heard me! There is like, totally some tench between you two.”
“Tench?” Sam asked, not needing to force herself to sound confused.
“Tension, silly! Sexual tension…” Lindsay giggled as if it were obvious. With a grin she went on, “I could like, smell it from across the club.”
All Sam could smell was sweat, which was diluting the sheer amount of cologne these foreign men thought was acceptable in order to attract the female species, as well as the sting of liquor mixed with citrus wafting from her glass, and not to mention the gallon of aerosol hairspray Lindsay needed to keep her blowout intact.
Finishing another significantly larger sip of her drink, she forced herself to grimace at the notion, “Oh no, there’s no tench at all. We’re just friends.”
Was their tension really that palpable to other people? Was that something she should be worried about?
Lindsay seemed taken aback, “Really? Wow, from the looks of it— sorry I didn't mean to assume.” Sam couldn’t help but be mesmerized with the girl’s hands as she moved them in a mistaken gesture back and forth. Her chrome nails glimmered in the light, the excessive amount of bracelets on each wrist made a loud clinking noise as they shook into each other, and the jewels on some of the rings on each finger caught the colorful club lights like a suncatcher.
Sam was tipsy and easily amused, but that didn't diminish the small tingle of self-consciousness it sparked in her. With one quick look down at her own hands, Sam took a deep breath; her nails were painted cherry red, and the only other thing she had on either of her hands was a dainty gold wristwatch.
She shrugged it off, blamed it on the alcohol, and brought her attention back to the girl in front of her.
Lindsay brought her drink up to her lips; the look on her face telling Sam that the woman did in fact want to assume. Actually, it looked like that's all she wanted to do, seeing as this conversation had literally come out of nowhere.
A part of her didn't want to give the blonde the satisfaction of continuing to talk about Sam’s boyfriend . All she had to do was utter an it’s okay, grab her drinks and wander off. But Sam’s curiosity— and jealousy— was saying something altogether different. 
She took a deep breath, and another sip of her drink for good measure.
“It’s no problem at all,” Sam smiled. “Daniel is such a fantastic guy, I’m honestly kinda flattered you thought that.” She laughed, and my god did it sound fake.
She took another sip and hoped Lindsay wouldn’t catch on to her lies. To make it more convincing, Sam flashed her a toothy smile— the small black straw in her drink still clenched between her teeth.
“Well, if that’s the case,” Lindsay flipped her long, blonde hair over her shoulder and glanced over to where Daniel and the rest of Sam’s friends were standing. Daniel looked up from his phone and saw Lindsay looking over at him; his gaze dropped behind the blonde and landed on Sam.
His face lit up and he offered his girlfriend a wave from across the club. But before she could wave in return, Lindsay beat her to the punch.
“Do you think you could set us up?”
Sam quirked her eyebrow, “Set you up where? The whole club is rented out,” she tossed her hand over her shoulder, “the elevator is that way if you don't want to take the stairs. I’ve been hearing it’s way less crowded up there tonight. You can probably grab a table and—”
“No silly, like a wingwoman!” Lindsay let out a laugh that Sam believed had to be fake.
But as she looked at her with a blank stare, Lindsay smiled just as widely as before. She took another large sip of her drink and her straw made a loud protest at the lack of liquid against the ice in the glass.
“Set us up… you know. Like on a date,” Lindsay emphasized as if it were obvious.
“Oh!” Sam finally broke from her trance, eyes wide in surprise at the question. It never occurred to her that somebody would want to go on a date with her boyfriend, until she reminded herself that nobody knew he was her boyfriend. She tried not to show the panic on her face by plastering a fake smile over her lips. “Right, yeah! I’m just not sure what his personal life looks like at the moment and I don't want to intrude or—”
All the while she was blabbering, Sam was trying to get the bartender’s attention to order another drink.
A double this time. She was going to need it.
“I thought you said you guys were friends? Isn’t that the kind of stuff friends should know about each other?”
Shit.
Sam tried to drunkenly ramble herself out of this hole too:
“I mean yeah, but— I just never want to pry, you know how it is. It's one of-- Don’t get me wrong, he’s the best, I just noticed he— Actually it’s not my place to even make assumptions, who are we kidding. I just don’t— yeah, I just cant be sure what his intentions are for this season.”
She finished off her word vomit with a shrug, blowing a raspberry through her lips for god knows what reason. The awkwardness was followed by the yet again incredible timing of the bartender dropping off the drink she’d ordered.
“But he hasn’t said anything about having a girlfriend?” Lindsay clarified.
“No, not directly. Or at least not to me, anyway.” Sam defended with faux, innocent sincerity.
“Perfect, so you’ll ask about me? You know, drop some hints and see if he’s interested. Hell, even just tell him I’m interested.” Lindsay was grinning and Sam was too, except Sam was grinning to try and choke down the dread pooling in her stomach.
“I can try, I guess,” Sam responded with absolutely zero conviction. It was at this point in the night that she realized— first win or not— that she may have had a bit too much to drink. Because why had she agreed to that, and so easily? And when she didn’t want to?
“Well, it never hurts to try,” Lindsay grinned, ignoring whatever Sam had just attempted to say. “Pass the message along for me, will you?” The blonde shrieked in excitement, “I can’t wait!” And then she threw herself at Sam and wrapped her in a quick hug.
“Thanks wingwoman!” she yelled over the loud music and then disappeared into the club crowd.
What the fuck just happened?
Sam gave her an inch, and Lindsay took a mile.
She grabbed the beer bottle from the bar and wandered back over to her 3 friends.
Daniel grabbed his beer from Sam’s outstretched hand, his weak smile unable to hide the concern written on his features. “Jack went off to meet up with a couple of his pals. Everything alright? I was getting worried you were gone for so long.”
Sam translated that to:
“I saw you talking to the girl you have told me multiple times you do not get along with, and you were with her for a while, did something happen?”
Thoughts were running through her mind a millions miles an hour. She was still trying to process the end of that conversation; it felt like she’d dreamed the entire thing. It took her a second to shake the vacant stare from her eyes and meet the amber eyes of Daniel.
Mick and Molly were both looking at her with concerned looks as well. Their friend hadn’t been this quiet all night.
“Uhm,” Sam started, her eyes locked on the drink in her hands. She took a second to try and string together some form of sentence to explain what had transpired in her conversation with Lindsay, but she wrapped her head around it entirely.
“Well spit it out, sugar!” Molly screeched in anticipation.
The thrum of the bass echoed between the silence of the group. Sam exhaled and squeezed her eyes closed in drunken embarrassment.
“I think,” her voice cracked while she yelled over the music. Sam smacked her lips and tilted her head up to the ceiling with a grimace, “I think I just told Lindsay I’d set her up on a date with my boyfriend.”
those who play with fire tend to be consumed by it
word count: 15.6k
reminder that this story is a sequel! and thanks for being so patient while I got my life together <3
“I’m not gonna keep going if you keep laughing,” Sam said in a pouting tone.
“Sorry, sorry,” Daniel wheezed between laughs, “I'll stop…” he proved himself wrong by breaking into another cackle at the pout on Sam’s face, “eventually.”
Sam however, didn’t believe him. But the longer she watched him clutch his stomach and roll around uncontrollably on her hotel bed, the harder it was to contain her own laughter.
She tried to talk to stave off her laughter, but she wasn’t successful, “You were adamant about wanting to sit through these sessions with me, and you've been gone for two weeks. We’ve got ground to cover, so focus!”
Wall Work.
Sam had rolled her eyes when her psychologist had told her about this type of therapy, and she rolled them again when she was “assigned” to do it over the summer break. She was put into contact with the creator of this specific type of work, and in a long, detailed email explaining the process to Sam, he let her know what she was to hopefully accomplish the three month break.
The premise of this type of therapy was that you wrote down the entire timeline of your life on pieces of paper. Large, defining moments. Small, memorable ones. Anything that Sam considered to be pivotal in shaping her as a person. Then she was supposed to tape them up on the walls, surrounding herself with what was practically her entire life in words.
What scared Sam the most is what was considered the “work” in Wall Work— she was supposed to present it to somebody. Getting lost in explaining the significance of each sheet of paper and remembering the prices in between was hopefully supposed to help pinpoint what was holding her back mentally. To make matters worse, she had to do the grueling task multiple times… and she didn’t have anybody in mind to present it to.
Molly knew everything about her already, so it wouldn’t be nearly as helpful— it made it feel like a useless endeavor: like telling someone a story over and over again that they’d already heard before.
She didn’t want to force Mick to sit through it. She knew he would, but Sam didn’t want to take him— and therefore Molly, now that they were an official couple— away from their winter break together. It didn’t seem fair.
And then there was Daniel… she felt that was too much to ask of somebody who she’d only been officially an item with for a little less than a month.
It seemed excessive, laying out your entire life, from start to finish on pieces of paper and taping them up onto walls so you can face it all. By the end of the “treatment” her whole life would be a timeline laid out for her to see, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to look at it, laid out in its fucked up glory, let alone force somebody to sit through it multiple times.
She didn’t want to do it, but Daniel told her that if she was willing to allow him to sit through it, he would hold her accountable for putting in the work and let her present it to him. She argued to this new psychologist that she was capable enough to do it alone, and it would probably benefit her even more. But the man had assured her that it was much more beneficial to work through the tougher bits if there was someone there she could work it through with.
Sam was tentative at first— trying to find any way out of it— but Daniel assured her that it would allow her to open up to him even more so he could get to know her better, all the good and all the ugly parts.
And he was right.
She complained at first, like, literally the entire time, about literally every aspect of it: the stack of papers was weighing down her backpack as she lugged it with her on their global-galavanting vacations, the amount of paper was killing trees— and she shouldn’t prioritize her mental health over the sake of the planet (and how could she possibly look Seb in the eye the next time she saw him!), she was embarrassed to talk about the stupid things she’d done as a kid, it took away from time they could be out exploring together, it probably freaked out any cleaning staff that hotel sent up to their rooms, blah blah blah. If it crossed her mind, she found a way to turn it into a complaint hoping that Daniel would concede and let her just tell her therapist she’d completed it.
Yet Daniel wasn’t budging. In the moment she was annoyed by his persistence, but she knew he was doing this for her. Somewhere in the middle of the Maldives she decided she wasn’t going to punish him for that anymore.
So something about having Daniel there and spending that new kind of quality time with him turned it into something she actually started to look forward to, dare she say enjoy. It worked out perfectly, seeing as they had been in the honeymoon phase of their newly established relationship and had wanted to spend the free time of their winter break together.
“Daniel,” she sighed, “it isn't even this funny!”
He kept laughing. She gave up trying to contain her own laughter.
“You didn’t laugh like this the first two times you heard this…”
He sat up, “because the last two times you didn’t mention that there was a photo of you hanging in the indycar headquarters like a mugshot.”
“Hey,” she scoffed, “I had no idea that they would get that worked up over a mindless prank!”
“You let a gerbil loose and it got stuck in the tail-pipe of a priceless indy 500 winning car”
“And Mr. Cooter lived a full life and served his country well,” Sam replied with her nose up.
“He died?’ Daniel gasped, and then started laughing.
“Well, eventually!” Sam interjected, offended. “We got him out of the tailpipe, he just— he got out a year later and I never saw him again.” she crossed her arms over her chest. “It's a sensitive subject!” she joked.
“Oh, well pardon me for not knowing about your attachment to your late hamster Mr. Cooter… Odd name by the way.” Daniel cracked a grin.
“Thanks, It’s a family name,” she quipped sarcastically in response. The two laughed
“Look, can we stop for tonight? I know we’re still,” she stepped back to see the entire room from where she stood, “like two years behind schedule because of your unplanned vacation,” she cracked a smile and Daniel rolled his eyes.
“I was quarantined, I didn’t have a choice!”
“Yeah yeah yeah, vacation… quarantine… whatever same thing.” She waved her hand dismissively and Daniel tried to smack it out the air, missing it completely, his smile never faltering.
“I’ve got somewhere to be in an hour and I want to look somewhat decent before I go. Plus, you already know what happens next. You knew what happened the last two times you’ve heard this…” Sam gestured to the paper-covered walls behind her. She felt guilty; it always felt like too much to dump on Daniel regardless of what he said.
“You know that’s not how this works…” This time, he reached out to grab her hands and was successful, intertwining their fingers between her standing body and his place on the edge of the bed. “Besides, you already look decent. Better than decent matter of fact.”
She looked down at her ensemble. She wasn't sure baggy jeans and an old t-shirt that swallowed her whole, accompanied by her sweaty hair thrown into two braids qualified as “decent”, let alone better than decent... But something about the way Daniel said it made her cheeks heat nonetheless.
“I love the flattery, I really do, but you need to raise your standards.” She laughed and launched herself at him and onto her hotel room bed
“I haven’t seen you in weeks, why are you trying to run off so quickly? Can’t I catch up with my girlfriend,” Daniel hugged her into him even tighter, reveling in the feeling of holding her close after two weeks of being unable to do just that. He’d learned it was one of his favorite things, holding her. Whether it was waking up in bed together on a cool summer morning in Colorado, attempting to hold each other steady while stumbling back from a Tuscan night out where they had indulged in a bit too much red wine, or interlocking hands together under their dinner table in the dim light of the michelin star restaurant in France, or even just their sides brushing while they leaned their heads on top of one another’s while they sat on a bench and took a break during their long hike up the Scottish Highlands. Every moment they’d spent together this summer made one thing clear: Sam was like a drug and he was downright addicted.
Which is what made the idea of the season ahead of them so much more daunting.
She laughed again, “Uh, you’re acting like you were off in the middle of the desert with no cell phone service for two weeks.. I called you like, multiple times a day! But don’t worry, we can do your version of catching up when I get home tonight.”
Daniel wiggled his eyebrows, “I like the sound of that.”
He watched as Sam’s cheeks grew even darker and followed the curve of her lip she tried to deflect so he wouldn’t notice. Next came what she always resorted back to in order to get Daniel to concede; his one weakness she had discovered that even he hadn’t been aware of:
Sam put one of her hands on either of Daniel’s cheeks and cupped his face tenderly, giving him what he could only describe as sadistic puppy dog eyes. “You need to let go of me so I can get dressed.”
Those eyes. His favorite pair of hazel eyes. The ones he daydreamed about getting lost in. The eyes that he had been lucky enough to have their sights set on him. This look was his kryptonite. Something about the way she looked as if she was pleading with him, but also in some way maybe threatening him? He had no idea, but something about it hypnotized him and could bring him to his knees within seconds. Daniel felt like he was a pirate being drawn in by a siren since Sam learned this little trick. He couldn’t explain it, but he didn’t care to.
But in a way, a part of him knew his weak-will was simply because he loved her, and wouldn’t hesitate to do anything for her at the drop of a hat— it was just a bonus that he got to send a few extra seconds with her, where it was completely valid to just be consumed by his admiration for her.
Head still in her hands he raised an eyebrow, “Are you meeting with another boyfriend I don’t know about? Why are you getting all dressed up? Who’s my competition? Actually you don’t need to tell me, I’m willing to fight anybody to the death for your honor—“
She cut him off with a laugh to reassure him, despite knowing he was teasing her, “No men, just Jack.”
Her joke hadn’t registered with him, so she added his last name after a brief pause.
“… Doohan. Jack Doohan?” His features relaxed with recognition. “We’re just grabbing a quick bite downstairs for dinner. He wants a bit of advice before his first full F2 season.”
Daniel sat up abruptly, “bu— he didn’t ask me for advice…” Sam shrugged, “why’d he ask you and not me”. Sam shrugged again. He looked genuinely distraught for a moment, but then he pointed his finger accusatorily at her after.
“You’re stealing my son from me!” Daniel protested.
She threw her hands up in defense, “I am not! And he’s not your son…” her hand flew from beside her head and her finger extended out as she flung it toward her sternum, “He’s mine!” She corrented mischievously.
“Can I come please,” Daniel begged by dragging out the vowel, hissing out the s, before ending his plea with a soft ‘uh’, now giving Sam his best puppy dog eyes.
“I wish. He didn’t invite you and it’ll be suspicious if I just show up with you out of the blue. You’ll survive one night without me, I promise.” She kissed him on the forehead before getting up to change, “You never know, maybe he’s just waiting to get advice from you after he gets advice from me. He looks up to you Daniel. Don’t doubt that.”
He smiled. And then he used his momentum and the spring of the luxury mattress to propel himself forward to a standing position. In one motion he wrapped both his arms around Sam and pulled her back down onto the bed.
She yelped in surprise. But allowed herself to melt into him, falling back onto the bed and against his warm embrace.
“I missed you,” he whispered against the crown of her head.
“I missed you too,” she replied into his chest.
They sat there for a moment. In each other's arms. No obligations. No expectations. No words. Nothing. Just their hearts breathing against one another. Just Sam. Just Daniel. Just Sam and Daniel together. Finally. Every moment they’d spent together since Abu Dhabi had felt like a breath of relief; all the bullshit was done, no more miscommunications, no more hiding feelings, no more NDA’s, no more running.
After a minute more of comfortable silence, Sam spoke up. “So, any nerves now that you’re here in the flesh?”
Daniel hesitated in responding. He inhaled, Then exhaled. “The car…” he trailed off
She heard and felt his heart rate increase with the way her head rested on his chest. The shallow thumping against his ribcage sent small vibrations reverberating against her ear, one’s which Sam had grown accustomed to hearing over the break. But the worry in his tone made her enjoy it less this time.
He’d been voicing his concern of the car all winter. The way it didn’t suit his driving style last season, his declining results, and the highly unlikely chance that the team would make the major adjustments he was hoping for.
And to make matters worse, he missed the entirety of testing… you know, the one place they allow the drivers to really give their opinion on the car— or at least one place where the grievances were actually taken into account.
“I’m sorry,” she rubbed up and down on his arm, listening to his heart rate slow back down. Sam smiled at the action Daniel had no control over.
“Tell me something good,” he said changing the subject, “How’s your car? Think of a name yet?”
She didn’t respond initially. He was down in the dumps about his drive situation this season, the last thing she wanted to do was drag him down even lower by talking about her own situation, which she knew to be better.
“Lilith” she responded quietly, acting as if he hadn’t asked a two part question.
He ignored the name she’d given him. Not because he wasn’t excited at what it was calling back to, but because she hadn’t answered one of his questions— the important question. “C'mon Sammy…we talked about this.”
“I know…” she groaned, rolling onto her back and hiding her face in her hands.
Daniel sat up and spread her fingers apart so her eyes were visible. She opened them, her hazel irises hypnotizing him momentarily.
He whispered, “say it with me…”
“Your win is not my loss” they said in unison. Sam’s words were muffled by her hands still over her face.
The two had decided that this one mantra was a great way to reassure each other that despite what happens out on the track, they would be by each other's sides regardless. There was something taboo about dating an opponent, but Sam had never let taboo get in her way, and Daniel had ever rarely cared about what the status quo had to say. This small reminder was their way to remind each other that regardless of anything, they could be a shoulder to lean on without needing to walk on eggshells around each other.
Saniel smiled warmly. It melted Sam from the inside out. He ducked his head down closer to her, “I’m your boyfriend before I’m your opponent. Now c'mon. How’s the car?”
Sam felt like somebody lit off an entire box of fireworks behind her ribcage. She asked herself the question she’d asked herself more times than she could keep track of over their dreamy winter break together.
What had someone like me, possibly done to deserve somebody as amazing as Daniel?
Her pout slowly morphed into a smile, one Daniel could see even though her hands covered her lips.
Her eyes crinkled… she was grinning.
“Ishhh rwwreee ghhhd,” she mumbled from behind her hands, unable to contain her excitement as she laughed.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Daniel laughed along with her, placing his grip on her wrists and removing her hands from her face so he could see her entire face. Her words had been incomprehensible, but her giddiness and grin gave him a clue as to what she’d said.
“It’s really good. It’s so fucking good! It’s a goddamn machine! Me and her, we’re gonna wreak some havoc on track this season, I can already tell.”
The room filled with their laughter.
“I think I have a shot at this, Danny. It’s not a pipe dream anymore.” She sat up, “after driving the HAAS all last season, this Mercedes car… she just… she moves with so much grace. I’m already so much more confident behind the wheel.”
Daniel looked at her, his smile no doubt genuine. She was positive he was the only one out of the remaining 18 drivers on the grid who could sit here like this and actually smile as his opponent gawked about their incredible car. He was one in a million and again, she wasn’t sure how she’d been so lucky to be able to call him hers.
She gave him a look, “I think we have a championship contending car.”
He was grinning, but then the corners of his lips dropped and he took a deep breath, “I want to ask you a realistic question, not because I don’t think you’re capable— because I do, I absolutely do— I just have no idea what happens in your garage….”
She nodded, nervous.
“How have Toto and Lewis decided who gets priority?”
It was odd hearing Lewis be referred to as her new team principal. Everyone had expected that once he retired, his role within the F1 community was far from over. Shortly after the end of the 2021 season, it was announced Toto would be promoted to CEO, and Lewis would take his place as team principal. They’d both be active in making decisions within the team, but now Lewis had a more permanent position.
What Sam was most excited about was Toto’s wife Suzie being promoted to head of strategy. She’s always idolized Suzie, the woman’s role in Formula 1 was the most ground breaking there’d been since Sam took her seat. So to say she was ecstatic to work with her was an understatement. George had said that she was fangirling, and despite the glare she sent his way during the team meeting, she knew he wasn’t wrong. Sam was totally fangirling.
Their team this season was stacked for victory. 9-time Constructor’s Champions with a record-breaking 8-time world champion leading their team from the garage, with two rookies who know how to fucking drive. A good cop, George russel, and a bad cop, Samantha Thompson. There was balance.
She blew out an exasperated breath, “They came to the decision to just let us race. No first driver-second driver dynamic. They won’t call team orders unless the driver that would be getting passed suggests it… or they agree when the team asks under extenuating circumstances I guess”
She shrugged, “it’s two team rookies taking seats in the championship winning car. Forecast predicts madness. Especially with the looks of RedBull and Ferrari. If you ask me, they’re going to sacrifice this ‘just race’ tactic the second the titles get tight.”
“That’s… a lot.” Daniel sat up and took a deep breath, trying to process the madness within the Mercedes garage.
Sam nodded, eyes wide, “Yeah, I just hope it doesn't ruin me and George’s friendship. He's a by the book kinda guy and I’m… well the complete opposite of that. His temper is short and leads to frustration, mine is short and leads to anger. Honestly it’s kinda a horror story waiting to happen, but I'm hoping we can at least wait until after the summer break before any big arguments”
“There aren’t going to be any arguments. You guys are too good of friends,” he reassured her.
This time, Sam shook her head at his words. “I don’t believe that… Love the guy but we butt heads too often. It’s inevitable.”
Daniel’s expression had turned slightly sour, a pout now resting on his lips.
It took Sam a second to comprehend the look on his face.
“You know what I meant,” she clarified, realizing the reason for his big lower lip and furrowed brow.
He shook his head.
She huffed, “I do not love George Russell.”
Still pouting.
“The only man I love is Daniel Ricciardo,” she said the line as if it was rehearsed, as if she’d had this same conversation time and time again. Because she had. A small part of her knew that Daniel just liked to hear her say that she loved him. Yet Sam obliged without protest; yes she said it often and with ease, but if Daniel wanted to make a big deal out of her saying it, then so be it. It’s the least she could do for everything she’d put him through.
His resolve weakened. He cracked a smile.
She straddled his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands instinctively finding a place on her lower back as she gave the tip of his prominent nose a kiss.
“I love you, Daniel…” Sam said in a sing-song tone, waiting for his smile to break wide open into the grin she adored so much.
“Good,” he smiled. Sam rolled her eyes playfully and fell forward into him so they were laying on the bed again. They both turned their gazes to the ceiling, just enjoying each other's company before all hell broke loose this weekend. Any shrivel of normalcy they had as a couple was about to shrivel up into damn near nothing. They knew it was coming, but they’d been dreading it all winter.
“Our first race weekend as a couple… it feels so…” he trailed off.
“Strange?” she asked.
“Well I was going to say surreal but yeah, definitely strange,” he fiddled with his hands and picked at his fingernails before stopping, aware that Sam knew all too well that it was his anxious tic. “It’s weird that we hated each other this time last year… and seeing us now…”
“What do you mean now? I still hate you…” she joked.
He reached over and grabbed a pillow from above them and smacked it against her face.
She laughed and turned on her side to look at him, “Jokes aside, I didn’t hate you this time last year. Not until Sunday night after the press conference. Plus, you had no idea I was even here until Sunday night,” she looked at her watch, “and last I checked it’s only Wednesday night.”
Daniel did the same so that they were laying down, facing each other. “Since when do you care about the specifics?”
She shrugged, “I don’t know. Talking about last season during this stupid wall exercise has kinda brought it into perspective…”
Sam shifted her weight so her face was in front of his, “Do you ever think about how stupid we were. Literally all we had to do was have an adult conversation and we could have avoided so much drama. We honestly might have even gotten together sooner.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “We were idiots… but I dropped out of school during the ninth grade so I never claimed to be smart. What matters is it all worked out”
He kissed her forehead.
“Get all this out of your system now, because this weekend starts a long season of deception, deceit, and everything in between. Because as of tomorrow, according to the entire world, we are simply just friends. And that means no PDA, Daniel. I know that’s going to be hard for you,” she reached over and patted his shoulder comfortingly, but not without the added spark of teasing him about his love of affection.
He rolled his eyes and shrugged, “What can I say? I’m a hands-on learner.”
She laughed and he went on, “I think we’ve mentally prepared enough. I’m not going to enjoy acting like you aren’t mine…” he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, “but if it means this gets to be ours for as long as possible, I’m willing to do whatever.”
The way his insides lit up whenever Sam blushed would never get old. He wanted to look at her forever, and he probably could. He liked the idea of it.
Then Daniel smirked as a thought crossed his mind:
“The real question is, have you managed to practice looking at me like you don't want to fuck me, or is that still a work in progress?”
She scoffed and slapped his chest, prying herself from his arms.
Sam flipped him off and made her way over the bathroom, disappearing through the doorway as Daniel laughed.
“Well,” she shouted from out of sight, the shower turning on in the background, “I’m just a visual learner okay! I’m admiring what is mine!”
He laughed again, but this time much harder. Eyes closed, clutching his chest, and rolling backward.
That was until he heard a quiet thump and sat up to see a gray lump of fabric sitting on the floor in front of the bathroom doorway. It was the same color as the shirt Sam had been wearing. Before he could say anything another piece of clothing flew from the bathroom and landed nearby.
A pair of jeans.
Sam shouted from behind the door again.
“What was that you said earlier about being a hands-on learner?” she shouted as he heard the unmistakable sound of the shower door being opened.
Daniel didn’t hesitate, didn’t say a word, he just shot up from the bed and ran toward the bathroom, discarding his shirt and haphazardly trying to step out of his jeans in the process.
XXX
Jack Doohan sat patiently waiting at a table for two in the hotel restaurant downstairs. His phone was illuminating his face with bright light in the dim dining room. The sound of Sam pulling out the chair and scraping its legs against the linoleum floor is what spooked him out of his scrolling induced trance.
He jumped back in his chair, startled, at the noise and was relieved to see it was just Sam.
“Geez, well hello to you too.”
Shaking his head, he cleared himself from the daze and smiled at Sam, “Sorry, sorry, I’m just a bit distracted.”
Jack stood from his seat and greeted Sam with a hug. She wrapped one of her arms around his neck, the other holding her jacket by her waist.
“It’s alright,” Sam encouraged, “I’m just glad to get to see you. How was the break?”
The two sat and caught up with one another for a bit before a waiter came over to take their drink order. Jack’s winter break— summer in Australia he reminded her— consisted of catching up with family, hosting Mick and Molly, reminiscing about how much more fun they would’ve had if she’d been able to tag along.
She apologized, reminding him of her full schedule that stopped her from flying out to Australia with them, and catching him up on the fun things she did while away. Apartment hunting in London, wine tasting in Italy, hiking the green mountains in Switzerland, and then ending the break back at her family home in Colorado.
All while leaving out the fact she’d been accompanied by Daniel during all of it.
It stung, being unable to tell Jack all the funny, incredible memories she’d made with Daniel. It hurt even more knowing that he was friends with Daniel too— he probably wouldn’t even care; odds are he’d be excited. But it was too soon.
“I saw you and Lindsay were in the same media group tomorrow…” He said tentatively, changing the topic onto the weekend ahead of them.
“Yep.”
Her casual response threw Jack off; the simpleness to it, he would’ve almost thought she was oblivious to the past if he didn’t know any better. He leaned forward and his eyebrow lifted in confusion.
“So do you two still absolutely hate each other, or are we just going to act like none of that stuff ever happened?”
“I haven’t spoken to her at all, and I know it sounds insane, but I’m ready to just put it all behind me and try to offer her my friendship. I'm trying to remind myself that I would’ve killed for there to be a woman on the grid when I started last year… so I’m hoping I can be someone she can depend on when it comes to the insane reality that is not only becoming a Formula 1 driver, but being a woman on the grid.”
Not an ounce of joking lingered in her tone. All the while her words were overflowing with assurance. He hated to think the worst of people, especially somebody he loved as much as Sam, but she wasn’t one to just let things go with this sort of ease… There were no reservations in her plan, no methodical planning ahead, just good old fashion flying by the seat of her pants… Was this a cry for help he was overlooking? His head swirlied with contradicting thoughts… What exactly had she done on her months-long eat-pray-love solo trip around the world? Voodoo? Hypnotism? He couldn’t be sure.
Jack picked up the butter knife sitting to his left and held it defensively in front of him, “Who are you and what have you done with Sam.”
“I’m a changed woman, Jackie Boy. This year is gonna be different.” She smiled, taking the knife from his hand by the handle and using it to butter her dinner roll. “Things are going to be different. They have to be.”
“So,” she started up again before taking a bite of the freshly buttered bread, “what’s the real reason you wanted to grab a bite tonight? Because I haven’t driven in F2 for four-ish years, and that didn’t really end well. Plus, Mick won the championship in 2020. If you wanted detailed racing advice, you would’ve gone to him.”
Jack just sat there and looked at her, eyes wide in shock. She’d figure it out before he’d even gotten the change to ask her.
“You’re good.” He admitted defeat. The all-knowing glint in her eye told him it would be useless trying to deny it, especially since it was why he needed her advice.
“Spill,” Sam grinned, scooting her chair as close as possible to the table and resting her elbows on the tabletop. She was intrigued and ready to listen to whatever Jack had to say. She thought of him like a baby brother, and she was ready to take advantage of this rare occurrence and offer any older sister advice that she could.
He huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes. Sam noticed his demeanor change to the shy, quiet Jack that she grew up with.
“It’s about this girl…” he whispered quietly.
It took Sam every ounce of self-control in her body to not shout for joy at the top of her lungs in the middle of this restaurant. Her jaw dropped in disbelief— no, not disbelief; she knew how charming Jack was and she had honestly been shocked he had little interest in dating— it was elation. She was so unbelievably excited Jack was finally interested in a girl— interested enough to need advice about it. And even more to Sam’s delight, he had come to her for this advice.
He continued, seeing as Sam was practically stunned speechless. “She’s the new team admin—”
She held up her hand to stop him, “Please do not tell me you finally have your sights set on somebody and it’s a grown-ass woman, Jack.”
“What?” He scoffed, her expression shifted to one of incredulity from across the table. “No, she’s 19. The team took her on as an apprentice or something like that. Something about reaching younger audiences and demographics I guess.”
Sam’s face relaxed. “Oh…well, that’s good.” She felt a tad embarrassed at her assumption. “So what’s she like?”
“I dunno”
The way Jack shrugged and said it so casually had Sam thinking she may have imagined the entire interaction.
She leaned closer to him across the table. She spoke softly, as if whatever they were speaking about was classified.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I— I uh, I haven’t actually spoken to her yet…”
Jack scratched the back of his neck and his face contorted in embarrassment. Sam had no idea how this man had survived this long in the real world. Had he not figured out he was likable enough to literally have an entire fanbase? Lots of those being age-appropriate women who would spontaneously combust if he even smiled at them? Or maybe she’s unsure as to how he hasn’t realized he’s technically motorsport royalty, which means that there's statistically a much lower chance of him ever getting rejected by a girl, let alone one who worked in the industry. A sliver of her finds it endearing that he;s so worked up over a girl he literally hasn’t even spoken to yet, but that doesn;t negate how dumbfounded she is at what she’s hearing.
Her mind was running wild trying to come up with a reasonable explanation as to how oblivious he was, all while her jaw hung open and her brows creased.
Jack broke the silence, trying to plead his case, “She was introduced to the team at the first debrief of the season yesterday”
“Okay…” Sam trailed off. Her eyes were focused on everything and nothing at the same time as she leaned back in her chair. “We can work with this.”
A few more head nods in silence and she finally looked at Jack, “Yeah, we can work with this.”
He leaned forward, “Okay, so what do I do?”
“Talk to her,” Sam said plainly.
At that moment a waiter came by with their drinks. Sam smiled at him as he placed the two glasses down on the table, a lemonade for Jack and a glass of red wine for Sam, she said a small thanks before turning back to the young driver infront of her.
He was staring at her like she’d grown another head and she assumed he had been looking at her like that since she gave him her first bit of advice. She tried to stifle her laugh and just smiled at Jack as she took a sip of her wine.
“Okay yeah, and then what?” He gestured wildly with his hands, eager to hear the rest of her advice.
“Don’t worry about that yet. Just talk to her first. Start simple and go from there. Ask her how her time with the team has been so far, or maybe start a conversation about something she’s working on. For fuck’s sake, just introduce yourself Jack.”
He went to interject, but Sam cut him off and kept going, “And don’t you tell me you’re worried about messing it up. You’re a young, good looking guy her age, not to mention you’re super charming and have a great sense of humor. Who cares if you’re a little bit awkward. You’d have to curse her entire bloodline or fall on your face to ruin it.”
His cheeks warmed bashfully.
“I would add a ‘what could go wrong’, but i'm not trying to jinx you… I don’t have the best luck with that sentiment.”
Jack grit his teeth and sucked in a breath through the toothy expression, “yeah, I’d rather you not doom this before it starts. I say that with nothing but love.”
Sam laughed and tore off a chunk of her roll and lightly tossed it across the table hitting him square in his snaggle-toothed smile.
“So what about you? Any special guy in your life yet?”
Sam’s heart dropped to her ass in panic. She scoffed, hiding her fear with laughter in shock of the question. She shook her head, taking another sip of her wine, “I am not talking with you about my dating life.”
“So that means the answer is no.”
She gasped, “Hey!” Jack laughed and braced himself for another piece of bread to be launched at him. “Why is that the default answer!?”
This time, Sam threw the entire roll at his head.
“Are you sure you’re gonna be alright?”
Mick was trailing behind Sam and Molly as they headed towards the building which was holding the driver press conferences this weekend. He was assigned TV Pen duties, so he was literally walking in the opposite direction of where he was supposed to be heading, but his concerns from Sam’s first interaction with Lindsay outweighed his need to be on time.
Without stopping, Sam looked at Mick, getting a bit perturbed .”Look, I appreciate your concern. But I also appreciated it the first time you asked me… and the second.. and the third. I’m fine, Mick. If you ask me again, I’m going to have to lead you to the medical tent and admit you under the pretense of short term memory loss.”
Molly laughed at the offended look on her boyfriend’s face. When Mick saw Sam’s dramatically cheesing grin, he relaxed.
She was carefully about teasing them lately, ever since the end of last season when she had decided she needed to push her friends away for their own protection, and that the best way to do it was to purposefully be a horrible friend and belittle them, treat them like garbage, point out their insecurities… all of the worst things she could possibly think of. She never wanted them to worry that she was trying to repeat those actions again. So her new way of reminding her friends she was just joking, was to flash them a grin like she was a kid being asked to say cheese in a photo, when either of their expressions would show that hint of worry.
At the sight of her smile, Mick laughed along with the two girls.
“Sugar,” Molly said addressing her boyfriend by his nickname in her sickly sweet Southern Georgia accent, “She’ll be alright. You said it yourself, Lindsay hasn’t even mentioned Sam in the month or so you’ve been teammates. Besides, I’ll be there to make sure she doesn’t say anything she’ll regret. Right?”
Molly turned to her best friend and gave her a threatening glare that could’ve brought dictators to their knees. She may look the role of the sweet Georgia peach, but the blonde knew how to pack a punch when she wanted to.
“Of course, Moo. You can count on me,” Sam said rather unconvincingly with the use of Molly’s childhood nickname.
“What are you going to do, jump up onto the set and stop her?”
Molly turned to Mick rather unimpressed and stuck her tongue in her cheek. “And what if I did?” she said rather menacingly.
The building that had been listed on Sam’s weekend schedule was directly in front of them now. She turned to the couple that had fallen in stride of one another a few steps behind her.
In her best childlike tone she murmured, “Mom, Dad, please stop fighting. My friends are watching.”
The two looked up from their playful bickering to see Sam gesture over her shoulder with her thumb at the front door, where Daniel was standing in his bright orange team kit. As if on cue, he gave the group an enthusiastic wave with the straw of his drinks bottle between his lips. Esteban was beside him and once he saw who Daniel was waving at, he also offered the group the friendly gesture.
Sam could still tell Mick was worried about her. She didn’t blame him… especially after everything she’d put him through last season. They were practically siblings, it was in their nature to worry about each other, especially in such a dangerous line of work. Jokes aside, Sam knew he was just looking out for her; Molly had said he felt even more protective over her seeing as Guenther was still somehow in the paddock as HAAS’s team principal despite everything he put her through last season.
Arms outstretched, Sam rested her hands on Mick’s shoulders.
“I promise, I’m going to be fine. I mean it when I say I want to try and be friendly with her. I’m not plotting a revenge plan. I’m not going to call her names on live television or dig up the past. Despite everything in my screaming to do the opposite, I’m trying my best to be the bigger person. Things are going to be different this season. They have to be.”
Something about the nod he gave her told her he believed her, despite how unbelievable those words sounded coming from her mouth. He closed the space between them and engulfed her into a hug, whispering something in her ear.
“Ich bin einfach froh, dass du hier bist” I’m just glad you’re here
“Ich auch, Mick” me too, Mick
The HAAS driver went his separate ways from the girls, but not before leaving Molly with a quick peck on the cheek.
Sam loved to see that despite the two having been a couple since the middle of last season, her best friend was still giddy when it came to Mick. Molly’s cheeks heated up to a bright crimson, and Sam giggled.
“Oh you are so whipped!” “And what about it!”
Sam threw her head back in laughter and finally made it to where the Alpine and McLaren drivers were standing.
“What’s got you in stitches?” Daniel asked.
“Oh nothing, just Mick and Molly proving the fact that if my racing career does fail, I can fall back on my talent at matchmaking.”
The two men didn't know whether they should laugh at the self-deprecating comment, you know, seeing that her career did in fact nearly four months ago. She picked up on their slight level of uncomfortability.
“Too soon?” She asked.
“Maybe a little,” Esteban replied an octave above his normal voice, all while Daniel held up his thumb and index finger indicating the same sentiment, both drivers having a sour look on their faces.
They all erupted in laughter. For the next few minutes while they waited for the first interview group to finish, they stood outside having casual conversation.
It was a peculiar feeling, having to ask Daniel questions and answer the ones he gave her as if they didn't already know the answer. It was the first time they’d interacted with one another in the paddock, and in the presence of another driver.
Sam hated it.
And so did Daniel.
But they knew it would get more comfortable with time. So for now, they just needed to convince everyone that they were nothing more than friends.
How hard could it be? They were friends before they were a couple. Sure, maybe the friendship had been clouded with moments of faux resentment and unacknowledged sexual tension— filled with moments of constant pushing and pulling away from each other, pretending that there wasn’t always this incessant need to be near one another. Because the two had feigned hatred for each other so well, that they had even themselves fooled for a couple of months.
They had this in the bag.
Before Sam could answer Esteban’s question about her and Daniel’s trip to France the group was interrupted.
“Hey guys! Daniel, Esteban, Sam,” Lindsay smiled as she adressed each of the drivers in the group, “First official race weekend of the season, who’s excited!”
The newest HAAS driver raised her hand enthusiastically, answering her own question.
Esteban grinned and raised his hand alongside her.
Daniel’s eyes darted between his girlfriend and the woman she had been so anxious to see again after years, waiting to see if the stories of them fighting would jump off the papers taped to Sam’s hotel room wall and play out in front of him, or if Sam would stay true to her word and attempt to keep the peace, and even better, he was using his first interaction with his girlfriend’s former nemesis to form his own opinion of the woman…
Sam’s eyes were locked on Lindsay, eyebrows raised in disbelief that they were standing this close and neither of them had tried to strangle one another. What made it even weirded was how she had acted as if Sam wasn't even there. Not by ignoring her, but by acting as if it wasn’t Sam who was standing there. Nothing about her happy-go-lucky attitude showed Sam that Lindsay had even the slightest recollection of how much they had hated each other all those years ago; they’re paths had diverged while hating one another as well, so to her knowledge, they should've still disliked each other just as much.
Despite her own unspoken plan to act like her past transgressions with Lindsay had never happened, it struck Sam as odd that her former F3 teammate was also acting as if they were fast friends.
To put it honestly, Lindsay was kinda freaking her out.
The wide eyes and big smile, the seemingly forced laughter, the calling her by her name instead of the horrendous nickname the girl had given Sam ages ago.
A singular explanation came into mind:
This was a trap. She was trying to kill Sam with kindness. She needed to put her guard up and not trust—
She stopped her train of thought.
No. She didn’t think like this anymore. Not everyone was out to get her. She needed to keep reminding herself of that this season.
Things were going to be different. They had to be.
Lindsay is doing exactly what Sam herself is doing: starting fresh, just two women who know they need to stick together. Letting bygones be bygones.
Starting fresh.
Sam cleared her mind and started over. The odd interaction they’d exchanged had been occupying her mind from outside, all the way into the building, into the red chairs, and through the first three or four minutes of the press conference.
She wiped the glaze from over her eyes by blinking once or twice under the hot lights of the press conference room.
To anyone watching the stream of this conference, it just looked like Sam was zoned out into the ground in front of her, and she knew that’s exactly what she was doing.
So she put a smile on her face and sat up straighter in her chair, making sure the microphone was clutched tightly in her hand so she was prepared, instead of where it previously laid limply across her lap.
Sam glanced to her left. Directly beside her Lindsay was answering a question enthusiastically, something about having to put her modeling career on hold only being possible because of her sponsors, which she then name-dropped. Sam couldn’t help but be the slightest bit self-conscious hearing the list of partners Lindsay had that enhanced her feminine presence on the grid:
Playboy— a bunny emblem on her uniform so iconic it needs no explanation.
The Clubhouse— a popular group agency out of Toronto known for signing models of the same blonde, skinny variety.
Chanel— a company that radiates class, and elegant femininity.
Louboutin— the company responsible for the iconic red-bottom shoe, one that every girl dreams of dawning in their adult life.
There were many other sponsors gracing Lindsay’s attire across the weekend. So many it seemed a tad crowded. But Sam wasn’t surprised; she knew Guenther was all about the dollar signs and how many zeros came after them. Lots of sponsors meant lots of money, and lots of money meant lots of attention and a better car.
Sure, Sam had her sponsors and she was proud of them, especially her retention and the influx of those newly interested after 2021, but seeing the overwhelming amount Lindsay had as the only other woman on the grid, made her wonder what she was doing wrong.
Still looking to her left, Sam’s focus moved past Lindsay and landed on Daniel. His side profile was as captivating as always, prominent nose and large lips adorned by the brim of his orange McLaren cap. As if he felt Sam looking at him, he turned his head a bit and leaned forward just slightly. He offered her a friendly smile. He showed no teeth, but his grin was so genuine his eyes got lost in the skin wrinkling around them and nose scrunched as his dimples made an appearance.
Everything within Sam settled. It’s as if the rough waves of her anxiety had been pulled out by the tide and he was the moon guiding her there.
She smiled back. A wordless thank you.
“Speaking of sponsors, I’d love to bring it over to Sam.”
At the sound of her name echoing over the speakers, she turned forward again and met eyes with the interviewer. Her smile told him that she was ready for the question.
“First of all, it’s lovely to have you back after the uncertainty of whether or not that’d be the case. Lots of new sponsors for you this season as well. But a new title sponsor for you, a rather big one might I add. Victoria’s Secret. Tell me about how that came to be and what it means to you.”
Sam grinned. It was a big deal. The iconic company had reached out to her and wanted to be her title sponsor for the season; they’d never once branched into the motorsport community— they’d never had the means to, she imagined— and had enough trust in her to bridge the gap between a women-centric company and a male dominated sport.
And now, she had earned the title of a Victoria Secret Angel. She was to shoot modeling campaigns with them throughout the year, something definitely out of her comfort zone as an adult, yet something she’d had fever-dreamed about as a young girl.
Plus, it made it even better seeing Daniel’s reaction to the news when she’d told him. Sam thought she had reset the poor man to factory settings the way his jaw dropped and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. It was an incredible opportunity and she wasn’t about to let her fear of judgment or self-consciousness get in the way.
“Yeah, it’s an insane opportunity. One I’m really fortunate to have. Their enthusiasm to work with me and their trust in me to be a representative of their brand in such a male-dominated space had given me a lot of confidence; not only as a driver but as a woman. I guess you could say they wrangled the Hell-Raiser and turned her into an angel.”
She laughed and the crowd within the room joined in.
“I'm elated to have them backing me this season and I can’t wait to proudly wear the Angel wings on my suit and fireproofs this season, as well as continue our work we have planned throughout the season. They welcomed me into their family with open arms and I couldn’t be more honored.”
She ended her comment with a smile, and then felt a hand on her shoulder. Sam turned to see Lindsay with a smile on her face, her freshly whitened teeth making it hard for Sam to look at her too long. The blonde’s hand shook lightly— reveling in the excitement with Sam.
It felt odd… having who she considered at one point— in Molly’s words— to be her arch nemesis, stare her directly in the eyes and smile at her like everything was great… This friendship was definitely going to take some getting used to.
The minutes on the grid between the national anthem and the five red lights turning on were some of the most chaotic moments of any race weekend. Engineers were making their final adjustments on the cars. Celebrities were walking between the parked cars like they owned the place, team personnel were trying to sweet-talk those celebrities, cameras were filming literally everything, while presenters ran from person to person interrupting conversations and sticking their microphones where they didn’t necessarily belong. All while the drivers were trying to get in their racing headspace.
Sam hated this idle time spent on the grid. All she wanted to do was start to prepare for the race. The process of channeling her adrenaline into focus was not something that had come easy, especially for somebody as hot-tempered and impulsive as her. The fear of getting behind the wheel only to fuck up so irreversibly that she could cost herself or another driver their life, followed her from series to series, season to season, continent to continent, country to country, race to race.
It required extreme discipline and focus.
Which is hard to do when Martin Brundle is practically shoving a microphone down your throat.
“Sam! Samantha!”
She pretended she didn’t hear him, adjusting her earpiece as if she hadn’t made sure it was securely in place over five minutes ago, hoping he’d just give up and go away.
But of course, this was the SkySports grid walk, which meant Martin was going to do anything but that.
“Samantha!” He huffs out in relief after he managed to squeeze between a wall of her mechanics that were meant to keep people like him out.
She finally looked up in time to see the short, sweaty man yank his cameraman through the crowd so he could capture the interview he was about to hold.
As if she was delighted to see him, Sam smiled and stepped toward his outstretched microphone.
He didn’t even take a moment to catch his breath before he yelled a question over the noise of the whirring machines and large crowd.
“How are you feeling before your debut race with Mercedes? Are you feeling the pressure of the shoes you’re filling, or do you think you can handle the heat?”
She didn’t know if she liked the question, her facial muscles were fighting the reflex to make an unpleasant expression. She wasn’t sure if he was questioning her abilities, or if this was a question he was asking all the rookies— both team and series.
But instead of making a scene by standing up against his potential doubt, she took a deep breath and answered the question. At this point she was just hopeful that if she answered his question, he’d leave.
“Uhm, I think I’ll manage. The team has been super supportive, they’ve given us an incredibly fast car, and now I’ve got to play my part and bring home the points.”
Martin didn’t even acknowledge her answer before he moved on to his next question, much to Sam’s dismay.
“You struggled a bit in qualifying yesterday, and now you’re here,” he quickly gestured to the asphalt they were standing on right infront of her number 66 car, “starting from fifth on the grid after showing much quicker times in the free practice session, and even testing. What’s your strategy to climb the order?”
This time, her smile was real. She had been counting down to the first race of the season since the last race of last season. There were few things that Sam loved more than sitting in her chassis and feeling the vibrations of the engine, or the pull of the g-forces through the corners, and not much made her feel more accomplished than the exhaustion she felt after finishing a challenging race.
“Good luck to you then!”
And with that, he was running to the next car on the grid. Literally, he sprinted off so fast his cameraman took a few moments to notice he was gone.
Sam turned and watched Martin elbow his way through the thick crowd while his bottom jaw moved faster than his eyes were searching for a notable face to interview. She laughed as shook her head; this was her life, and it was crazy times like this— looking around at the crowded grid and the fans adorning to stands around every inch of the track— that made it so surreal.
She closed her eyes.
This was it. The start of the season she’d been dreaming of since she was a child.
She inhaled.
She exhaled.
Her eyes opened. Nope, not a dream. This was definitely happening.
She grabbed her helmet from where it rested at her feet and removed her balaclava from it. Her fingers ran across the smooth exterior colored in her signature scarlet red. Atop of the red, glittery material protruded two horns that only made an appearance when it was a special occasion.
Devil horns. The crown of the Hell-Raiser.
Sure, she hadn;t found the most comfort in the nickname towards the end of last season, seeing as the connotation of it all led people to jump to conclusions about her personality off the track.
But now, she proudly stared down at the helmet as it glittered under the lights of Bahrain International Circuit. She’d made a name for herself: that was something to be proud of, not ashamed of.
She closed her eyes again, collecting her thoughts while she began her pre race rituals.
Deep breath in.
Deep breath out.
The noise faded into a humm. Her headphones had coe off a while ago, but she had been interrupted by Martin, which put a halt to her usual routine. Usually, she could still feel the bass rattling in her skull, but it had since subsided.
Another deep breath.
Inhale.
Exh—
A light tap on her shoulder yanked her from her zen. The percussive noises from the surrounding track returned instantly. She was trying her best to keep her cool.
Sam swore if this was Will Buxton and his dumb F1TV grid walk she was going to—
Her eyes opened to see Daniel.
The anger evaporated.
Muscle memory took over and her lips curled into a smile.
Her eyes landed on Max to his left. She smiled at him as well.
“Came to wish Max a good race and thought I’d stop by and grace you with my presence,” Daniel dramatically fawned and flipped some imaginary hair behind him.
Sam bit her tongue when it came to what she really wanted to say. She wasn;t about to start flirting with Daniel in the middle of a crowded grid with cameras literally plaguing the small space, but especially not in front of Max. Sure everyone knew they were friends, but she wanted to make sure that's all anyone thought they were.
“How thoughtful of you,” Sam deadpanned.
Max thought that was hilarious.
It took Daniel a moment to adjust his brain back to the friendzone.
The Aussie swung his helmet out between them and tapped it against hers.
Her eyes dropped to their helmets and she looked back up at him, fighting off a smile.
Max interjected, sticking his hand between him and Sam. A fistbump: a friendly offering before they became fierce competitors.
“Good luck out there, tonight.”
She knew her fight would be with Max this season. He wanted his own bit of revenge after barely losing out to the title last season… the title that was won by the man who had been in her seat. He was out for blood.
She connected their fists, sealing the gesture and it some way, she felt like she had just accepted a challenge; his challenge:
Race you to the top.
“Yeah, you too.”
She turned back to Daniel.
His mouth uttered the words, don't choke. But his eyes said, drive safe.
She responded with the words, you wish. But her tone tone said, you too.
The two men went their respective directions. Daniel headed to the back of the grid, which was a sight Sam hated to see. And Max walked up to the front row.
Sam closed her eyes one last time, clutching onto her helmet and grounding her feet onto the asphalt.
She took a deep breath.
Then she blew it out from between her pursed lips.
She opened her eyes.
Yep, still not a dream.
And as the sun has set here in the desert, it's time for a new dawn in Formula 1. New regulations, radically different cars, the most races in a season ever, and one of the freshest lineups to date.
Straight into it. Back row is Nicolas Latifi, starting plum last, followed by our second woman on the grid and Formula 1 rookie, Lindsay Reynolds in 19th. Daniel Ricciardo, only 18th for McLaren, alongside Nico Hulkenberg filling in for Sebastian Vettel. Yuki Tsunoda 16th, Zhou Guanya in 15th becomes the first ever Chinese racing driver in Formula 1. Alex Albon, now at Williams, lines up 14th alongside his old pal Lando Norris who is 13th for McLaren. Mick Shumacher, a career best 12th on the grid alongside Esteban Ocon for Alpine. And then to the top 10 we go. Pierre Gasly, 18 times into the top 10 last season and he’s there again tonight alongside George Russell who is now at Mercedes. In eighth is Fernando Alonso, his highest start here since 2013, alongside Lance Stroll in 7th. Valterri Bottas, now at Alfa Romero alongside the one and only Samantha Thompson, now taking her place to race at his former team. Sergio Perez starting 4th, where he started 7 times last year, next to Carlos Sainz, who matches his best ever start here by sliding into the 3rd slot on the grid. Max Verstappen on the front row, right where he won this race from last year, next to Charles Leclerc who starts on pole for the second time here in Bahrain.
Brand new season. Brand new dawn for Formula 1. It’s the Bahrain Grand Prix.
And it’s lights out, and away we go!
Brilliant start there for Charles Leclerc! Sam Thompson already trying to get past Carlos Sainz. But it’s Leclerc on the inside ahead of Verstappen! Carlos Sainz stays in third, Perez on the inside now with Thompson! There’s a little bit of a kerfuffle going on through turn 2, but Leclerc makes it into the lead. And Thompson has half a car length, now a full car length, ahead of Sergio Perez! And now Perez is being challenged by Lance Stroll!
Leclerc into turn 4 from Verstappen! Sainz— Thompson on the inside of Stroll, followed closely by Perez and Russell!
Yes, Perez got out of shape coming out of turn 2 and had to get out of the throttle, which cost him 2 places in the end. And he tried to get back up alongside Sam Thompson, but a keen start there for the number 66 driver. And it looks as though her teammate George Russell has had a clean start as well.
Look at that gaggle of cars! Oh! Sort that one out, ladies and gentlemen! The two Alpines as well as Lando Norris and Nico Hulkenberg were getting close together as well. The Williams of Alex Albon is now going wheel to wheel with the AlphaTauri of Yuki Tsunoda. Mick Schumacher was also involved in all of that! And then there's the McLaren of Lando Norris on the outside.
But now, looking back, we can see Mick Schumacher trying to make a move. Gasly cuts him off right at the back. Looks like Daniel Ricciardo in the McLaren, Ricciardo has had a very poor start as well as Zhou Guanyu as well. Latifi’s right down there. Reynolds 18th, Ricciardo 17th, and Norris now 16th.
Yeah, it's almost as if they were tucked up behind somebody back there, wasn’t it? And really, it was all bunched up at the back of the field, but pretty neat and tidy up front I must say, as Leclerc leads Vertsappen, Sainz, Thompson and Russell, who are having magnificent starts as newcomers to Mercedes, but a bit further back than I bet their new team principal * time world champion Lewis Hamilton would have hoped.
It’s a lock-up there for Lindsay Reynolds at the far back of the pack going into turn 1. From the looks of it, the rookie is taking much longer to settle into the car than her veteran teammate Mick Schumacher. The car is wildly better than it was last year, the team choosing to allocate more of their funds to the car itself, unlike last year where they allocated 50% of their expected budget.
Yeah, but Crofty, imagine if they’d had this car while Samantha Thompson was still racing for them… I think she’d have at least doubled her number of podiums.
Look at this! Lance Stroll is keeping the RedBull of Sergio Perez at bay! The Mexican driver couldn’t do it out of turn 3, but he might be on the run now down to turn 4. Stroll moves to the inside to try and cut him off. Perez is going to have to go the long way around, and Stroll has that one covered unless Perez can get him on the exit of turn 4.
And he does it! Perez is a front tire ahead going down the hill— he’s now a whole car ahead! Stroll gave him a chance and Perez said ‘thank you very much’.
Let’s look back at the race start, shall we?
It was a perfect launch for Carlos Sainz, wasn’t it? He moved over to the inside to cover off Max Verstappen, making it nearly 3 abreast out into turn 1. And this is where Perez gets the— you can see the back end of the car just snaking there, and that out Sam Thompson through.
Near the back you can see an Alfa— Oh, but remember McLarens are on the medium compound tire, so they will have struggled for grip. Explains a lot.
Looking at Max’s launch now, Oh, really low revs! He just got away with that one, just got away! Picks up a nice slipstream at the start and was already committed then to having to go down the outside. Charles Leclerc had that one covered off and somehow managed to get a decent release on turn 2 despite looking to be struggling with grip. But he got away with it.
All that tire-burnout for Carlos didn’t really give him a particularly good launch, but he was very brave on the brakes down into turn 1; Sam having been quite cautious with Perez on her inside and giving him loads of space. And then Sam gained a nice, clear view ahead of her.
Oh and here’s the contact from earlier between Ocon and Schumacher that sent the HAAS driver tumbling down the order. A full 360, but a great recovery from Mick.
Back to the current driving being done; lap 5 of 57. Here goes George Russell trying to make a move on Lance Stroll. Stroll has gone deep again. That’s going to allow George Russell through, and that’s twice now Lance Stroll has gone too deep into the first corner and has allowed somebody to pass him.
That officially makes our top 6 just made up of three teams. The Ferrari of Charles Leclerc leads, followed by the RedBull of Max Verstappen, Carlos Sainz in the second Ferrari, leaving Sam Thompson and George Russell in the Mercedes tagging along the back.
There’s only a 2.4 second difference between Charles Leclerc and George Russel… and if this is how the tone of the season is set, I can't wait to see what else lies in store. We may very well have a three way battle for the constructors championship this season, Crofty.
Yes, well that begs the question:
Which driver are each of these teams going to choose to best represent their team?
***
Lap 10 and we’ve got some intense racing going on in the battle for 4th position. Thompson and Perez are at each other's neck, only 0.03 separating them. Perez has DRS and is gonna have a go into turn 4, and he’s done it. That is an awful lot easier than it might have been this time last year if a RedBull and Mercedes were going wheel to wheel. Perez stays within the white lines where Max Vestappen couldn’t manage 6 months ago, and claims 4th place.
That Mercedes looks like it’s working its tires quite hard, doesn’t it… Thompson might have serious skills when it comes to tire management, but the temperature and the fierceness of her defending is really working against her. The race pace is there, but it seems to still be significantly less than the ReBull.
“I really have zero traction”
I take it back, it seems the RedBull of Max Verstappen in 2nd place is also struggling with his tires.
This is anybody’s race, because despite the pit window, for a two-stop strategy, with the soft tire being predicted anywhere between lap 14-24, Mercedes’ pit crew is coming out on lap 12 with a new set of hard tires.
They’re shooting for the undercut, Ted. It’s risky, but with Susie Wolff on the pitwall as their new director of strategy, I think they're in great hands.
Well, it will either pay off immensely, or ruin the start of their season.
And who’s headed in? It’s Samantha Thompson!
We were just praising her tire management, and she heads into the pits two laps prior to the predicted start of the pit window! I did not expect this!
Speak for yourself. We are seeing high levels of degradation, and this is a sure way to get the jump on the cars in front of her.
Car number 66 comes into the pits right past me. This is so cumbersome! They’re heavier, these tires, but that is a pretty sweet stop. Nice work from the Mercedes crew! You’d have no idea these were bigger tires from the ease at which that stop was executed.
A 3.9 stop. Pretty good, but not the 1.9 stop we see from the sometimes, but alright nonetheless. She’s opted for the hard tires to go long in this middle stint, and reenters the track from 4th down to 11th.
Oh, but already some struggling for grip as she goes deep into turn 1 and nearly squirms her way off the track! Zhou Guanyu is going to breeze by and say ‘thank you very much!’
It’s not looking great, but let’s home this gamble pays off for Thompson in the end.
***
Lap 15 and Max Verstappen is into the pits. Let’s just watch how the RedBull guys go about their work. That was not so bad— is he going to be held up by the Ferrari coming in behind him? No he is not! He is away after a 2.9 second stop and that Ferrari of Carlos Sainz has come in for a swift stop as well.
Here’s Thompson over the radio:
“That was a really early stop. Are we sure that was the right idea?”
“Copy that Sam. Boss lady says to hang tight.”
Mercedes’ new director of strategy Susie Wolff, wife to CEO Toto Wolff, is a weapon when it comes to strategy. Sam is a bit hesitant, but it's the first race of the season with her new team so anybody is bound to be a bit skeptical.
Perez, Leclerc, and George are now headed into the pits, only 3 laps after Sam pitted. It’s a tight margin but it could be the difference between a victory and just a few consolation points. It’s anybody’s game.
Verstappen carries on his way now, behind Leclerc who will come out of the pit entrance just seconds before the RedBull is set to round turn 1. And, well, Max Verstappen right on the gearbox of Charles Leclerc. By stopping a lap earlier, Max that is, they’ve managed to give Ferrari something to think about here, That gap was three seconds and is now down to a couple of car lengths.
Yeah, Max has been on it with his brand new tires. Now, Leclerc has to get his used tires up to speed. He used them at some time during qualifying and— wow, Max has really closed that gap here, hasn’t he. The undercut almost worked there for him entirely in terms of track position. But it’s max now with the better time.
Now is the time where we’re going to get a good feel for where and how easily these cars can follow each other in 2022.
Russell Thompson has made her way back up to the top 5 on the hards, with Perez interestingly on mediums chasing the Ferrari of Sainz on softs, while Verstappen hunts down Leclerc for first both on the soft compound.
Stroll holds onto 7th, followed by Gasly, Alonso, and Hulkenberg to round out the top 10. Norris finds himself in 11th, with Esteban Ocon is running in 12th, followed by Daniel Ricciardo, Yuki Tsunoda, Valtteri Bottas, Mick Schumacher, Zhou Guanyu, Alexander Albon, Nicholas Latifi, and Lindsay Reynolds bringing up the rear.
But it's Max Verstappen who steals the fastest lap of this race, and sends sparks flying as he soars past Charles Leclerc and into 1st position!
Leclerc now has DRS, can he get the position back as we head to turn 4? This has been a bit of a problem for the two in the past—
But it’s no problem this time! He does it! Charles Leclerc retakes the lead!
Another drag race down the pit straight from these two, and Leclerc immediately tried to move around to break the slipstream. You can do that gently, once or twice, but you can't do it at the last moment. And as—
He’s doing it again! He’s going for it again! Max Verstappen has lunged and has gone a quarter of a car length in front! Now they come out, through turn 2 and he's got a couple of car lengths between them! That was so far back!
But once again Leclerc’s got DRS, this time he’s got the inside line! He forces Max a little bit wide into turn 4 and Leclerc, for the 2nd lap running, has retaken the lead!
This is absolutely epic!
***
“They’re almost dead again, the tires”
Lap 28 out of 57 and Max Verstappen is complaining about the soft tires he only put on 13 laps ago.
Some might say they're not surprised with the way he hasn’t been looking after them. Racing wheel to wheel with Leclerc, who has now extended the gap to 3.7 seconds ahead, and trying to keep the 11 second gap from Sainz behind from growing… Now he seems to be paying the price for some of those aggressive moves. But, uh, it's not worked out.
Here’s Samantha Thompson then, coming in for another stop. Hard tires go off and medium tires go on, a quick stop at 2.5 seconds, and she’s going to come back out into this race behind Lance Stroll in 6th… But could that become behind Pierre Gasly who is currently in 7th?
And yes it will.
Gasly heads down the straight and the key for Mercedes now is to get her out ahead of Esteban Ocon, which I think they can. And we’re still not half distance, either—
Sorry Ted, here’s a radio from Sam’s team:
“Sam, it’s important that we don’t push this tire too hard on the outlap.”
It’s a long way, but I think that means they’re trying to get to the end of the race on that set. So that’ll be over half the race on that set of tires… if anybody can do it, we know it’s Sam.
Max is in the pits as well. And Max is on the medium compound as well, which his teammate Sergio Perez has been using since his pitstop, so they have a lot of data on it and how it’s performing.
No, no, I think he’s asked his team what Sam put on her car. She’s the first driver in the top 8 to make a second stop; it's the perfect strategy. If Max thinks she’s got a chance at taking those tires all the way, he wants to match it and make sure he stays one step ahead.
You’re ridiculous, David.
All I’m saying is Max has always been one to try and prove ‘anything they can do, I can do better’.
Max is back around the track, headed down the pit straight. Charles Leclerc is headed out of the pits at the same time. Verstappen didn’t have the DRS from Leclerc, but he did have clean air. Let’s see who will come out on top…
Charles exits the 80kph pit restriction and is back onto the track with Max Verstappen multiple car lengths behind him. The Ferrari fans here tonight absolutely loved that!
Let’s hear a radio from Max:
“Okay this is now 2 times that I’ve taken it easy on the outlap, when I could have easily been in front. I’m never, ever doing it again.”
Alright, he's getting a bit worked up.
Yes, well, never is a very long time…
But he’s angry in that car, isn’t he? I even saw his hand wildly flaring around on the big screen. And he feels that he’s been told to protect the tires and wasted the chance to get in the lead.
Jumping to the back of the top ten, this is Samantha Thompson overtaking Pierre Gasly into turn 1, securing her back up into 7th. If Verstappen’s angry now, Martin, he’s not going to be very happy to hear about her increasing pace… or the fastest lap she just put onto the board.
You’re doing the post-race interviews today right Martin?
I am…
Be a doll and don’t mention to Max that his pit stops were half a second slower than both Sam and Charles….
Stop jabbering and look at this! Thompson goes right for Stroll and picks him off like she’d been driving this car for ages. She looks mighty comfortable in that rocket ship and it’s only the first race.
She’s up to 6th, and slowly but surely on her way to closing the 11.5 second gap between her and her teammate. I'm interested to see that if she does catch him, what the team will have to say about their order.
No, it’s too early in the season for that. Odds are they pull Russell for his second pitstop if it gets to that point, and avoid the whole situation completely.
***
So at the start of this season, with a near 5-second gap between himself and Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc might just be thinking to himself, ‘could have done this before, the engine didn’t really treat me very nicely on that particular occasion, just trying to keep everything together for these remaining 14 laps, here’s to hoping nothing mechanical goes wrong, I want a nice smooth ending to this race, godspeed'
Here’s a radio from the team, let’s see how close I got:
“We have less deg than Verstappen”
And that is exactly the sort of thing he wants to hear.
Look at this, Verstappen coming into the pits for a late pit stop.
Puts him behind Sainz then, doesn’t it?
It certainly does, because Sainz has just gone through, but Sergio Perez is coming into the pits as well… It’s a double late pitstop here for RedBull. Which basically means Verstappen can now go and chase after Carlos Sainz, and Perez will have a bit of ground to make up in the ranks as well.
But now he’s got Samantha Thompson in his rearview mirrors to worry about. She’s 8 seconds behind Verstappen, but if there’s one thing about the Hell-Raiser, it’s that she knows how to make an entrance.
RedBull has been struggling much more than we’d expected them to. Their levels of tire degradation are so high, they’ve gone and switched to a 3-stop strategy. It’s as if they feel they have nothing to lose, especially by bringing both drivers in at the end.
They took the risk that if they were to drop behind Carlos Sainz, they’d have the straight line speed advantage over the Ferraris. They’ve got the new tires; it should be easy.
But that’s where they were wrong. Remember what I said about Samantha Thompson’s ability to make an entrance? Yes, the Mercedes struggled in qualifying and were lacking some pace at the start of the race, but it’s got to be because of their two new drivers, who before this race today had been racing in two of the worst cars on the grid last year. We’ve seen that Mercedes in testing, it’s quick. It’s got the straight line speed and it's got the maneuverability.
And it’s also got one of the most incredible drivers I've seen in years piloting it. During the duration of the 44 laps we’ve raced, Sam has grown immensely more comfortable in that chassis, and I don’t think RedBull expected her to recover as quickly as she did.
I think they may have made the big mistake of underestimating her… but I’m not sure why, seeing as she dragged a HAAS onto a podium three times last season. Incredible, really.
A radio from Max, Crofty:
“Mate, oh my god, my steering wheel is just heavy. The steering is locked. I almost can’t steer.”
Sam gains 2 seconds on Max as Carlos Sainz enters the pits for Ferrari. Do you think that was a decoy by the RedBull pitwall in hopes of bringing Leclerc in?
If it was, it was unsuccessful. But I’m not sure it was. It looks like Max’s team is asking him if he wants to bring it into the pits.
“Let us know if you need to box, Max”
“No, just ******* tell me what’s wrong and I’ll try to handle it”
Oh he’s definitely got an issue.
“Max, is the wheel heavy in both directions? Both left hand and right hand?”
“Everywhere. Everywhere. It’s not even smooth. Like I have to ******* even on the straights.”
Well he’s going to have to slow down anyway because we’re going to have a safety car due to Pierre Gasly’s AlphaTauri having overheated and caught fire. The marshals straight on there with the extinguisher. But that is a very, very hot AlphaTauri. A true testament to the conditions out here tonight.
Virtual safety car has been thrown— no, scratch that. Straight to a full safety car.
Leclerc is being told to box while he’s about halfway around the lap. They need to box him because those behind have just pitted already.
Yeah, it’ll be a cheap stop for Leclerc, won’t it? It’ll cost him a lot less while the others are going slowly out on the track. But of course, then he needs the tires for the restart behind the safety car.
Russell pits, and we’re getting word that the power steering on Max’s is giving a lot of variability in terms of the load that he’s feeling. Which is a software issue, though they’ll try and fix it—
No, it was a hydraulic issue, and there’s not much chance of doing that.
Pierre Gasly’s night is coming to an early end. His special helmet to stand in solidarity of Ukraine will not see the checkered flag, but it’s an incredible message nonetheless.
***
We’ve got 7 laps to go in this race. Leclerc pitted under the safety car, but remains out in front of the pack. Verstappen, who is having major issues with his power-steering, follows behind. Then the Ferrari of Sainz weaves in front of the RedBull of Perez, who gained a place when Thompson pitted for softs just like the rest of the grid. Her teammate Russell is behind her, hoping to hold off the Aston Martin of Lance Stroll who has been putting in a hell of a drive under the lights tonight.
No drag reduction system for two laps after a safety car, of course. And this right here is Max’s favorite trick, isn’t it? Trying to hustle the guy who’s about to give us our restart. And Max has left himself very tight on that corner actually.
Wow, at the green flag, the Ferrari of Leclerc absolutely disappears off in front of Verstappen.
That trick didn’t help him in Abu Dhabi last season against Lewis Hamilton, and it didn’t help him tonight against Charles Leclerc. Look, Sainz is right on the tail of Max Verstappen as they head down the straight.
Leclerc is away and off into the distance! Sainz is alongside Max Verstappen! Thompson is wheel-to-wheel with Sergio Perez! Verstappen is on the inside of Sainz, keeping his lead, but the same cannot be said for the other RedBull as Samantha Thompson passes Sergio Perez down the inside of Turn 1!
Leclerc towards turn 4 from Verstappen. Then comes Carlos Sainz and Samantha Thompson. Perez, Russell, and then Lance Stroll, behind is Bottas, Ocon, and Mick Schumacher on the verge of points for the first time in his F1 career.
Leclerc’s got the restart done nicely, but Tsunoda gets past Mick Schumacher and he drops out of the points! So, still with work to do for Mick Schumacher. Still with 5 more laps of work to do for Charles Leclerc.
But his first job is well done; he’s still in the lead.
Leclerc deserves the race win here, not just for what happened in 2019, when an engine problem caused him to lose the lead, but for the way he’s coped tonight as well. When Verstappen’s attacked, Leclerc’s come right back and now he’s giving it even more.
Now, DRS is enabled. That will be on the run to turn 4. That’ll help Samantha Thompson massively in this battle with Carlos Sainz and to distance herself from Perez behind. She could find herself in a spot of bother in a few moments time, let’s hope she can keep her composure.
That also goes for Verstappen and Carlos Sainz as well.
Sainz is barely 3 seconds behind Verstappen, and Thompson is walking the line between 2.0 and 2.1 behind the Spaniard.
Thompson’s rear flap opens, and so does Perez’s. This three-way battle for third is incredible!
Mick Schumacher slips further down the lineup as he is passed by rookie Zhou Guanyu in the Alfa Romero. It’s sad for Mick, truly. But I’m sure his chance will come to score points eventually, because the HAAS looks like a car that could be doing well so much more often this season, even without the sheer talent of Thompson to put it up there.
I’m not so sure about Mick’s teammate Lindsay Reynolds though, Crofty. A rookie, but one who is sitting 1 minute and 27 seconds behind our leader Charles Leclerc. A massive deficit. That’s nearly 45 seconds behind Nicholas Latifi in the Williams who is only one place ahead of her.
Sainz is closing up on Verstappen right into turn 1.
Yeah, Sainz is easily within a second there as they turn onto the pit straight. He had that gap in the detection zone and it certainly is showing as his rear flap opens and the Ferrari of Carlos Sainz gets DRS on the RedBull of Max Verstappen. He’s got a red car looming large in his wing mirrors, and don’t forget, last time Ferrari won in Formula 1, it was also a 1-2 finish: Singapore 2019 with Sebastian taking the top step of the podium and Charles right behind him. Could this Leclerc-Sainz duo be on for not only ending their winless streak, but putting out a 1-2 too!
“Okay, what’s going on with the battery?”
“Battery is fine, Max”
“No it’s not! I can’t— What the **** is this?!”
Verstappen is losing his cool and he thinks he’s losing energy charging and battery as well. And he might be about to lose out a place here as well!
Leclerc leads as Carlos Sainz pulls out to the inside and overtakes Max Verstappen!
And for the moment, it’s a Ferrari 1-2 here in Bahrain as Carlos Sainz moves up into second place!
Now Max has got the Hell-Raiser in his mirrors, and I’m not sure that’s any better for him. Samantha is driving on another level tonight, and it makes me extremely excited to see what this season has in store for her.
“We can see the issue Max, it’s not battery related.”
“Well what do you expect me to do?”
“There isn’t a lot we can do.”
And will a struggling Verstappen now be passed by the Mercedes of Thompson? Yes he has been! Thompson promotes herself to the final podium spot! And now he’s been passed by his teammate Perez! And there goes the other Mercedes of George Russell past him as well!
And this, from the runner up of the 2021 championship, is certainly not the start he was anticipating. From all the highs of last season, to these lows in Bahrain—
“Try to make the car into the pitlane”
Max Verstappen is out of this race!
Charles Leclerc leads, Carlos Sainz second, Samantha Thompson third, then comes Russell and Stroll.
And I’ll tell you what, Samantha Thompson is not going to be satisfied finishing third when her gap to Sainz is just a tenth over a second. She’s gonna go for it.
For Max Verstappen, what was already frustration here in Bahrain has just turned into ultimate disappointment.
Crofty, we’ve got a radio from Perez now:
“I’m losing power”
My goodness! Not even two laps after his teammate retires, Sergio Perez reports that what’s affected one RedBull, might be about to affect the other RedBull.
Carlos Sainz better hope this doesn't cause a safety car. Because he’s struggling to keep Sam Thompson behind when she’s got a 1.2 second gap; I’m not sure he’ll be able to keep her behind.
Yeah, but look at her car, all those bumps, all that porpoising, I’m not sure she should push that car any further if I’m honest.
We’re on the final lap of this race, David. I don’t think Sam is going to get that chance regardless. Who might be getting a chance though, is George Russell, as Sergio Perez tries his best to hold him off and finish this race as his RedBull slowly loses power.
Despite the loss of power, Perez is doing an alright job at keeping a small gap between him and Thompson.
Tight into the corner as they bunch up in the braking zone—
And Perez tries a risky lunge to pass Thompson— Sergio Perez has spun round!
And RedBull, who were looking at a decent points finish here, in the last couple of laps have not only retired from the race, but seen their other driver tumble out of points!
That bold move cost him his race only a few corners before the finish line!
He’s lucky he didn’t finish Thompson’s race either. His front wing clipped her rear tire and it sent him round. It was a desperate move and I’ll be surprised if the stewards don't have a penalty waiting for him.
Thompson took that outside line, hoping to do some damage limitation, and I think that was the right choice. Now she’s gonna pick up another podium surely!
“I locked the ******* engine”
Perez locks his engine, Max loses his battery. Not the start RedBull would’ve wanted for their season.
But there’s nothing they can do about it whatsoever. Because this man, Charles Leclerc, has won twice in Formula 1 from pole and he’s about to add one more.
Charles Leclerc starts the season off with celebrations for Ferrari! Charles Leclerc wins the Bahrain Grand Prix!
And it is a 1-2 finish for the Scuderia as Carlos Sainz comes home in second!
Samantha Thompson finishes her first race with Mercedes by landing herself a spot on the podium. It’s podium number 4 for her in just 23 races— 22 of which she was a rookie.
What a start to this 2022 season!
-
“P1 mate!”
“LET’S GOOOOOOO! C’mon! That’s exactly how we should start the season! Andiamo! 1-2, baby!”
-
“Sam, that’s P3! Way to put it up there!”
“WOOOOOO LET’S ******* GO! Thank you Bono, and to the rest of the team, what a great way to start our time together!”
“Sam, what a drive. A podium on your silver arrow debut. Congratulations. You deserve this. Really, really stoked to see what else we can do this season!”
“OH MY GOD! WOO! Thank you Lewis! For everything! God, this is crazy! I’m gonna make 2022 my *****!”
well, its here!
lots a filler, lots of set up, lots of words!
I hope you didn’t forget about me while i got my life together for two months😁
buckle up because we’re just getting started!
reminder that the tag list can be joined by checking out the concessions on my blog!
a compilation of songs I think are a good fit for this story! wether they’re about Sam, Daniel, their relationship, or even just fit the vibe, you can find all of it on this playlist! I add to it continually too!! So it’s always changing!
here’s the spotify link if you’re having trouble using the scan feature!
so take your time while you’re mine and smoke slow
summary: Max can’t quit his habit. The funny thing is, he’s not sure he wants to.
word count: 3.7k
warnings: I DO NOT CONDONE SMOKING!! STOP BEING A SLAVE TO FLAVORED AIR AND CANCER STICKS!!
note: surprise, she is in her max era, everyone. this is the first thing I’ve written in months and it feels so good to be inspired again :’) also, this is inspired by the Joshua Bassett song of the same title :) ps, shoutout to @silverstonesainz for helping put my thoughts into words more often than not. she's a real one and I owe her my life
Max had been trying to find a moment to sneak off and take a breather for what felt like hours. While yes, he enjoyed team social events— the word party is loosely tossed around but there's more chatting than dancing so he doesn't really think it’s applicable— sometimes it was a little overbearing. First things first, he was a part of this team to race, leaving all the social obligations to feel like just that-- obligations.
All night Kelly had clung to him like her life depended on it. To him, it seemed like she enjoyed these events more than he did. Getting to be paraded around beside the two-time world champion, allowing herself to be introduced as his ‘partner’, before taking over the conversation almost immediately. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. But it was the only thing that ever made Max feel like a pawn… like dating him was some great achievement. Not because she loved him, but because of who he was.
He needed a break, and he found it just where he’d hoped to.
The relief of finding her standing out on the balcony lifted a weight off his shoulders that he was sure this RedBull team gathering had placed there the second he walked through the door. Max would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to finding her in this exact spot tonight, and he’d lied about a lot of things, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to lie about this.
With a soft grip, he slid the glass door open and was hit with the cool Monaco air. The sound from inside immediately dissipated into the night and was replaced with the distant sound of waves, car exhausts, and boat horns.
“I had a feeling I’d find you out here,” he said into the silence as he closed the door gently behind him. And that’s when the smell engulfed his senses:
The sickly satisfying scent of burning nicotine.
It was a smell he’d never really enjoyed as a child. One that made him plug his nose as he walked by or hide the bottom half of his face beneath the neckline of his shirt. His mother had always insisted the gesture was rude while they were out in public, but he was a child and didn’t necessarily see why.
By the time he was a teenager, he started smoking cigarettes occasionally, simply because it was the cool thing to do. As one of the young, up-and-coming drivers, Max assured himself it made him seem older, more mature. A desperate attempt to fit in. Eventually, he convinced himself he enjoyed smoking them. He’d only do it while he was on a night out, more often than not too drunk to say no or realize how gross they actually tasted.
But one thing he was always lucky enough to realize is that he never found the substance addicting. Never once found himself craving a drag, or the lightheaded feeling it so often accompanied. He partook simply out of a nonchalance habit. Well, a habit without the commitment.
The day he came to his senses and realized there was no reason he needed to be smoking if he didn’t even like the taste or the effect it had on him came out of the blue. He didn’t know what knocked the sense into him, but from then on he denied every offer of a cigarette. Max told everyone he was trying to be as healthy as possible in hopes of winning his first championship title. Daniel, his teammate at the time, simply laughed and put the cigarette he’d offered between his own lips before wandering off.
Yet all of that changed when he met her.
“What can I say, I’m a creature of habit,” she replied, not even needing to turn around to know who had joined her.
She became his teammate at the start of the 2021 season, a hail-mary effort that Christain Horner was positive would be successful. Max was tentative at first, remembering that he himself was one of Horner’s hail-mary attempts. The car was rumored to be next level this year and he didn’t want to worry about having a woman as his teammate alongside of a potential championship battle.
But she carried herself with such grace that she had Max enamored within hours of the two of them meeting. It took no time for her to prove that she could handle herself, and eventually, Max found lots of similarities between the two once they got to know each other. He liked her so much that he actually found himself hoping this teammate got the chance to stick around longer than half a season.
In the two years they’d been teammates, they’d grown extremely close. She was introducing him to all kinds of emotions he wasn’t familiar with when it came to his past teammates. Like how he found himself worried that the tension of being teammates would drive them apart or his budding sympathy for her inconsistent wins, and even his disappointment that he rarely got to celebrate her as much as she was celebrating his achievements.
Their relationship was always strictly platonic. He refused to call it professional. She was too good of a friend for it to be simply about work.
The pungent scent of nicotine filled their air again. But he didn’t plug his nose or hide under his shirt like he did as a kid. He inhaled the air, drank it in, and enjoyed it. Because it reminded him of her.
Max rested his elbows on the cool metal of the balcony’s edge, looking out into the harbor. He felt the ghostly sensation of her gaze the moment she turned to look at him. It ignited a fire behind his ribcage. He turned to look at her.
He did his best to ignore how incredible she looked with the moonlight hitting her skin. So instead he smiled at her. She smiled back.
Without a single word being exchanged, she held out her small tin containing what he knew to be her hand-rolled cigarettes.
The metal glinted in the light and he smiled. He’d bought the discreet carrying case for her at the end of their first season together. It was wethered now, from roughly over a year of use.
What made it even better was that she never handed these cigarettes out to just anybody. She was stingy with them and she damn well knew it. The first time she ever offered Max one, he thought he was being pranked. But every time they went for a smoke together, whether it was to get some fresh air from the inside of a packed club, or hiding from team personnel at a RedBull event like tonight, she always offered him one.
It didn’t take long for him to start looking forward to their media duties together, sometimes the only time they spent together all weekend. And before long he found himself counting down the days until it was race weekend again, so he could even just see her in passing if that's all he got. By the end of their first year, it eventually escalated to them finding each other in the crowd of drivers for any spare moment they could find to simply chat and joke around with each other. Soon enough they were spending rare, sporadic time away from racing together, which he found himself nervous before regardless of whether or not it was with other people as well, spending extra time on his outfit without trying to make it obvious, using the cologne she always complimented. He hated that it felt like he was a young kid again trying to impress a girl.
This was all recently new territory for him— territory he didn’t want to admit may most likely be coming from romantic feelings.
Because he had Kelly waiting for him back at home. Who he cared for, who he loved, and who he was committed to. And Penelope… he felt guilty even thinking about the potential of leaving Kelly when he thought about her daughter and how much he’d grown to adore her. Was it wrong? To be out here with her, but thinking of his girlfriend? He couldn’t ask himself that question without asking the reverse…
Was it wrong that he thought about her while he was with his girlfriend?
He blinked hard, pushing his eyelids together tightly in hopes of ridding the thought from his mind. Because Max knew if he thought about that for too long, especially from beside her, it would invade the deepest level of his subconscious; something had been so desperately trying to avoid so it didn’t take root. He owed it to Penelope, to Kelly, to himself to make this decision rationally if he could ever commit to making it.
He always preferred the cigarettes she brought. They were little pieces of her, done with care and attentiveness, like little pieces of art made solely with the intention of being destroyed. Hand rolled. Thin. It made the bitter taste of the nicotine tolerable. But they burned quicker. They nearly defeated the whole purpose of coming out here.
So as much as he wanted to accept the small shiny rectangle from between her dainty fingers, he simply shook his head, muttering a “thanks, though” and pulled a box of his own cigs from his pant’s front pocket.
They were the standard kind, the cheapest, simplest box that the Monaco petrol station had to offer. Not a box of cigarettes that a millionaire normally chose to carry around; however, they burned slower. And that was what mattered.
The box was tattered. The label is worn and the corners are dented. Inside was only one lonely cigarette. To be fair, he probably should’ve checked there were more before he fished the small carton from the back corner of his sock drawer; he hadn’t taken it from its place there since the last night out he spent with the team at the end of the 2022 season… It was February. But he only ever secretly shoved it onto his person before he knew he would see her… because he only ever smoked when she was with him.
It wasn’t worth it. The nicotine never tasted the same without her.
The high never felt right. But he wasn’t sure it was the nicotine that got him high anyway.
Regardless of what it was, he was sure he was addicted. Hiding his addiction to her under the rusty facade of nicotine dependency.
She was none the wiser. She clutched onto this alone time with Max; it seemed to be the only time they ever truly spent alone. The unspoken rule to not talk about work, the laughs they exchanged, and the freedom to be themselves, free of judgment, free from obligation. Just two friends and their nicotine addictions. Except the title of ‘friends’ made her skin crawl.
What started off as two teammates trying to innocently take a much-needed moment away from their social responsibilities, became a routine. Almost as if it was scheduled. Like the night was incomplete if they didn’t step out for a smoke. At some point, they would find one another off in some corner of somewhere and share cigarettes and laughter for the hell of it.
He didn’t even need to ask, he simply held the cigarette out between them, prompting her to remove her own from between her lips and place the red-hot end against the waiting bit of his.
It was muscle memory at this point. Though there was a lighter on one of them at all times, they always lit the second cigarette with the first. No questions. No reason not to. Something about it felt so intimate despite their friendship. It was the one part of their stolen moments that gave Max hope she felt the same twist in her gut whenever she was around him.
The embers caught and soon enough Max’s cigarette was lit.
“You really should quit,” she said quietly, copying him and turning back toward the view of the harbor she’d spent the past ten minutes staring at while she anticipated his arrival.
He laughed, “I’ll quit when you do.” The cigarette slowly burned from between his fingers, ash floating down toward the ground. He turned to look at her, his smile wide as ever at the irony in her statement.
She rolled her eyes at his toothy grin— the pride in his own joke. Turning so her back was resting against the bar of the balcony she matter-of-factly replied, “But I’m not gonna be fighting for the world title this season. It might come down to you needing every bit of lung capacity for all we know.”
She shrugged, switching her grip on her own cigarette so she could cross her arms in response to the cool night breeze.
Though her sarcastic tone landed, Max knew she was partly serious. So he turned and mimicked her stance. Their eyes never left one another. Like so many times before, the tension between the two was palpable. These smoke breaks were the only time they allowed themselves to walk the fragile line between friendly banter and flirting. Neither of them would ever admit they enjoyed it, but it never stopped nonetheless.
“Okay well that all applies to you too, and I don’t see you quitting anytime soon”
“Trust me. As long as you’re my teammate I won’t be winning any world titles,” she laughed, bringing the cigarette up to her lips and taking a deep drag.
The comment took Max by surprise. There was a lot he wanted to unpack in regards to what she’d said, but it was neither the time nor the place. He suddenly felt guilty, a guilt he had never experienced before.
To be honest, he never felt that guilty about anything in regard to his career, and wasn’t sure he would in this moment if it was anybody but her. The passing thought only added to his internal conflict; a conflict he had become so familiar with, so familiar that it was comfortable, so comfortable he seemed to welcome it. Because it came with her.
Smoke twirled from her mouth as she laughed again, “Don't get quiet on me, Maxie.” She glanced his way, “if it bothered me that much, I’d have left the team already.”
The guilt eased and a small smile upturned the corners of his lips, “so why haven’t you yet? Wait, don’t tell me you actually like spending time with me!”
She laughed. His chest grew warm. The air reignited with conversation. His mind raced.
He looked down at the cigarette between his knuckles; it seemed much shorter than it should have. He willed it’s burn to slow down. He was tempted to stub it out and ask her to relight it later. Because he clung to these moments more than he cared to admit. Outside of the balconies, the windowsills, the staff entrances, and the patios, all they were were friends. Teammates. Co-workers.
But here, on nights like these in the moments which Max begrudgingly admitted to himself he considered an escape from a life he was told he should enjoy… here they were more. Here it didn’t seem completely incomprehensible. Here it wasn’t unfathomable. Here it didn’t feel like such a bad idea. Here, it nearly felt real.
He felt naive… thinking that they could work. He felt dumb for clinging on to short moments. And the more he thought of it, the more he felt like an idiot for smoking cigarettes for the sole purpose of spending time with a girl.
Max liked the version of himself that was out on those balconies. He liked the version of himself she brought out of him.
He wished it could last forever. Yet it only existed here.
The idea of her finding out mortified him-- about both his motives as well as his lack of a smoking habit. If he said anything about it, anything at all, he was positive he would ruin it all. Because if he spoke his feelings out loud, it would ruin this illusion of whatever they had been, being more than just friendship. He couldn’t lose that. Not when it meant losing his escape. Not when it meant losing her.
She stared out into the harbor, and though her smoking habit was real, her feelings were the same. It’s as if they were to speak it out loud, everything would come crumbling down. The moment would be ruined and would be irrevocably unfixable.
He was him. She was her. And they could never be them. All that they were out there was all they would ever be.
And there are only so many cigarettes one can smoke.
The conversation was seamless. The party behind the glass door forgotten. Only once was there silence as she pulled out another cigarette.
This was new. They’d only ever stayed for one cigarette each. Sometimes this time together was short and fleeting, other times it was drawn out purposefully.
But never had she lit another.
She pulled out her lighter in an attempt to light it, knowing that Max’s cigarette was dwindling too quickly to be of any real help. They’d never encountered this situation— relighting; blatantly, wordlessly saying “I want to stay out here with you longer”. The wind wouldn’t cooperate. It kept blowing out the flame before the twisted end of the paper could catch.
He took a step toward her, closing the space between them significantly.
Their eyes locked. Without looking away from the ocean trapped behind his irises, she moved the cigarette to her lips and moved her hand holding the lighter up between them.
Max delicately lifted his hands between the two of them, positioning them to block the flame from the wind. The sound of her thumb running down the spark wheel sounded much louder than he knew it to be. He saw the light of the flame reflected in her irises before she finally broke eye contact to make sure the cigarette was actually in contact with the fire.
And then suddenly, the smell of fresh, burning tobacco filled his senses.
She filled his senses.
It was in that moment, over the sound of his own blood flow echoing in his eardrums, that Max was tempted to fill the silence with confessions; all of things that he’d never said out loud.
His cigarette was nearly gone and he hadn’t even found the time to put it to his lips, having been far too enamored by her and their conversation.
As he was about to open his mouth and release his confession into the universe, the sound of the sliding glass door broke them from their trance.
They were as close to being them as they had ever been and now there was more space between them than there had been when he first walked outside.
“There you are,” Kelly said, her tone of voice proving that the tension in the air was only felt by the two drivers. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” The closer Kelly got to Max, the further he noticed her scoot away from them.
Kelly began to speak but interrupted herself when she saw the nub of a cigarette remaining in his hand, “I thought you quit?”
His cheeks lit up with heat, not because he’d been caught in a white lie by his girlfriend, but because as far as everyone else was concerned he had quit.
But with her cigarette long forgotten, clutched between her knuckles, it all finally clicked her for. That one comment from a woman she’d learned to hate, put everything into place. A part of her was shocked, the other parts confused and disappointed. The butterflies in her stomach from earlier that night returned, yet this time she was sure the fluttering was simply nausea.
She always wanted what Kelly had-- everything, everyone-- and now she wished she had the woman’s blissful ignorance. She’d take anything to ease the stabbing pain in her heart.
The tension between the two drivers swelled, but it was no longer sexual tension. No, it was the tension of the truth. Of the lies that had been told. Of the implications they held. Of the lost momentum after two years. Of the individual consequences they now faced.
Max wished the earth would open underneath his feet and swallow him whole. He didn’t want to see the expression on her face, but he looked at her one last time, her features telling him she was piecing it all together, as he fiddled with the extinguished end of the last cigarette from his box.
“I’m trying to.”
But that was a lie. He’d never intended on quitting. Not as long as she would be willing to light the cigarettes for him, or give him pieces of herself so she could watch him set them ablaze, or as long as she was simply waiting for him in some corner of somewhere. Because quitting cigarettes meant quitting her. Every moment of her. Every memory of her. Quitting meant giving up.
Without realizing it, all the while reminding himself he was fortunate enough to not be addicted to the nicotine so frequently inhaled, he had formed an addiction that would inflict even more damage. A part of him was addicted to her. And now, he feared he’d be forced to go through withdrawl.
Clueless, Kelly smiled at the girl and retreated back inside and out of the cold. But Max watched as who he was now confident was the object of his desire, still stood before him, slowly bringing the slender white morsel to her lips one last time, her eyes locked out somewhere in the distance of the Monaco harbor.
She didn't look at him. She simply exhaled, filling the air with her smoke and the scent of nicotine, before stubbing out her half-burned cigarette, leaving it on the railing of the balcony, and brushing past him toward the party like he wasn't even there.
those who play with fire tend to be consumed by it
word count: 2.1k
note: here’s the introduction! sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.
“And do you? Blame them, I mean?”
The bright fluorescent lights shined down on Sam intensely, and for the first time throughout the whole Netflix interview, she felt like they were shining a bit too harshly; she was beginning to sweat. She took her time to really think about the question. For how simple it was, it surprised her how much she had to search the corners of her mind for a response. Sure, she could lay out all of her grievances toward the FIA after the chain of events involving her contact unfolded and aired itself out at the end of last season; hell, she’d spent the past 90 minutes doing that in the nicest way possible…
Yes, she’d thought about her answer to this question before— she’d even mentioned her opinion on this exact matter during multiple rants to her friends or even in the mirror revisiting everything she wish she would’ve said— but something felt different. She’d just relived the entire 2021 season during this interview, but there was a part of her which was telling her to at least keep some of her rage to herself. After all, she needed something to keep in the back of her mind to motivate her when the season officially started back up.
She assumed the interviewer had wanted some sort of juicy promo-worthy clip to use with Sam’s answer, but the driver wasn’t sure this question would produce one of those. She had a feeling one would tumble out of her mouth without even trying at some point.
Sam cleared her throat, finally ready to answer. “No, not for all of it. Sure, they played their role. But this bias has been present long before they took their seat at the table or I took my place on the grid.”
She exhaled. That was exactly what she'd wanted to say. And she didn’t need to get angry to say it.
The woman sitting next to the camera— the one which was pointed directly at Sam, not the one to her left or the one who’s weight was being carried by a man near the back of the room— glanced down at the cards in her hand. Sam couldn’t tell what the woman was doing, but the longer the silence grew, the more she noticed the woman begin to second guess what was written before her. A second more and she snapped out her trance, putting the cards face down in her lap and looking back up at Sam who met her gaze with a thin-lipped smile.
“And what do you say to those people who blame you entirely? You signed the contract completely aware of the three strike contingency, why should they think you are worthy of this second chance?”
Any and all of the inflecion in her voice led Sam to the quick conclusion that the question she had just asked was not the one which was written on the card that production had intended to be asked. However, she didn’t mind. She liked this one.
With a small shrug she answered, aimlessly picking at the nail polish on her thumb, “I wouldn’t say I’m worthy… I’d say I’m deserving. I’ve worked hard, I’ve faced adversity many of these guys haven’t been lucky enough to encounter, and I can confidently say I faced it with much more grace than my instincts wanted me to. I get that not everyone is going to understand the situation completely. To be honest, I’m not sure I understand it entirely either. When I signed that contract, I was hungry. I was blinded by possibilities; it happens to the best of us. I had just won my second indycar championship, Guenther was open to letting me run in sim, then the testing session, and suddenly there was a golden opportunity laid out in front of me. I was willing to play their game, a game I only thought would last a season or two at best, so I could get back where I knew I belonged. A place where women aren’t normally pictured, or accepted. It’s like…”
Sam’s eyes tore away from the woman and stared at the ground as she ever so slightly tilted her head away from the camera so her gaze was locked on the floor. She paused and silently tried to find a way to put her thoughts into words. Something people would understand. Something that would make it make sense for them. A picture she could paint to finally make it clear. Her fingers anxiously twisted the ring around her index finger as her mind raced for some sort of comparison to make, but as if she suddenly remembered she was being filmed, she settled her hands, and then her mind.
Her head turned back toward the woman and with another deep breath, she continued. But this time, she didn’t put her full effort into hiding her serious tone with a smile, “When you aren’t being fed opportunities on silver spoons, you learn to lick them off of knives.”
The woman’s eyes went wide at the statement. She’d gotten her juicy line for the trailer.
Sam ignored her expression and went on, “So I admit that I was desperate. But I wasn’t the only one. They wanted me as a PR stunt to boost revenue and I wanted a seat. It sounded like a mutually beneficial agreement and I was willing to look past the formalities because I knew it was probably my only way to get back into Formula 1 in the foreseeable future. The FIA rarely changes their mind, so when they agreed to reinstate my contractual freedom, it was obvious I had to jump, all they had to do was say how high. Yes, I knew about the strikes. But I didn’t think it would’ve gotten as out of hand as it did. Besides, who were these few men to judge my behavior when they had no idea what it was like to walk a mile in my shoes, let alone down the paddock in them? The things I was punished for with a strike were far from worthy of one. And they never gave me a fair chance to explain myself.”
The room was silent. Every employee in that room was listening to what Sam had to say like it was the first time they’d heard it.
Because it was.
After the final race in Abu Dhabi, Sam decided the first people she wanted to sit down with and tell the whole story to, was Netflix. All eyes were locked on her. Emotions had run wild the entire interview, and as it all boiled down to the last few questions, everybody wanted to hear her final thoughts.
She took another deep breath. The more she spoke, the more she relaxed. It seemed backwards, but she could tell the conversation was nearing the end of looking back and transitioning into moving forward. And she wasn’t scared of what the future held. Not anymore. Not when the past would aways be scarier. Not when she had people alongside her to make it all worth while. With one last comment, Sam knew she was done speaking about the 2021 season today.
“Before the season started, it felt like it was never going to get that point in my contract. But looking back, after it all went down … it was clear it was always going to happen regardless.”
The woman smiled, one full of pity yet also full of pride— a pride from one woman in the sport to another Sam had overcome the 2021 season. It was a look that told Sam she had people rooting for her in this sport. It gave her hope. It gave her strength. She smiled back.
“And what do you want to say to these people who think you’re some sort of god? And those who criticize that idea as well?”
Sam laughed. That was a new one. Not the most unfathomable thing she’d heard about herself, but definitely up there. “I’m not a god, I’m just a girl who’s finally got the chance to show she has the same dream as lots of other men. But come to think of it, god-hood is a lot like girlhood, isn’t it? Your whole identity is based around just begging to be believed.”
Impressed, the woman nodded, sitting forward and looking Sam deeper in the eye. She didn’t say a word, but she was telling Sam she was aware she had more to say— that the driver was holding back— and the lack of interruption meant she was giving her the opportunity to say it. Taunting her, was more a more accurate way to put it.
Sam gave in. Her confidence returned. The lights didn’t seem as bright. Her hands now sat unmoving in her lap. She smirked.
“It is not my fault I wasn’t born a man. And people need to stop treating me like this is some divine choice I’ve made. I am a woman, a woman who loves what I do. A little girl who is all grown up, but still pursing the same dream. I hope they can all see past whatever it is they find so appalling about me and accept it, because I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. Infact, I’m gonna be around for a while, so its best to get comfortable.”
The woman smirked right back.
“That’s all the time we have for today. Thank you so much for your time.”
It’s been nearly 3 months since Samantha Thompson flipped the world of Formula 1 upsidedown by vanishing from the grid in Saudi Arabia without a word.
5 days and 743 signatures later, the contents of Sam’s absurdly revised contract and it’s biased behavior contingencies were revealed to the public, changing the course of history.
She was given one last ultimatum: come back and finish the last race of 2021 on the podium, or lose her place on the grid for good this time.
Everything she encountered during the 2021 season had lead up to that moment.
Struggles and victories
Friends, enemies, and lovers
Rumors and reality
Haters and supporters
DNFs and pole positions
all the highs. all the lows. and everything in between.
It all had brought her up to the third step up the podium that night. She’d made everyone eat their words.
Now what?
How do you outdo your own heroics? How do you prove everyone wrong… again? How do you keep your relationship secret? How do you—
Wait, what?
Yeah that’s right, not only is Samantha Thompson fighting for the title of 2022 World Drivers Champion, she’s got to figure out a way to keep her relationship with fellow driver Daniel Riccciardo out of the media.
She’s not entirely sure which one will be more difficult…
When she signed her contract for the 2021 season, she promised herself she wouldn’t get involved with another driver— she’d worked so hard to make a reputation for herself in this sport, why would she want it tied to another driver?
But something about Daniel… something about him has Sam breaking all of her rules.
Don’t ask her to explain it… she can’t. She doesn’t even want to admit she’s willingly letting it happen.
They barely made it out of the woods together last season, so their plan this time around?
Keep their relationship theirs. No matter what. At all costs.
But of course, things are never easy for Sam.
Enter Lindsay Reynolds. Former teammate. Former Current nemesis. And now fellow F1 driver. She’s on a warpath, and her target? Sam.
It’s not as if Sam hasn’t faced challenges during her race season before… but it’s an entirely new type of burn when the flames are coming from another woman.
But Sam’s changed… or so she keeps trying to remind herself. She doesn’t want to uproot past drama— not after last season taught her how little that mindset had to offer. For once, she’s actually willing to look past her differences with somebody and try to start fresh….
Someone alert the media.
After all, they are the only two women on the grid, they’ve got to stick together. Sam even thought it might be nice having her there…
Yeah all that went out the window the second Lindsay shows Sam the video of her and Daniel’s intimate moment in the what they thought was an empty paddock back in Abu Dhabi.
Fuck.
This means war.
Samatha Thompson is ready to get down and dirty this season. The Hell Raiser is back for good and she’s willing to do anything to get what she wants:
Revenge.
The love of her life (?)
A championship.
Whatever it takes.
But she’s got to be careful: those who play with fire tend to be consumed by it