Dolce Vittoria | Formula 1

9 - The Stallion's Comeback

🏎 Melbourne Grand Prix Circuit, Australia🏎

Alessandro's POV

"Left. Right. Up. Down. Left. Down. Right," Aaron's monotonous tone was putting me to sleep as we did our reflex drills.

"Mate, have some enthusiasm," I huffed, straightening my back.

"How bout we do your drills outside in the paddock? Maybe the fans will give you enough enthusiasm," he suggested.

"Now you're talking," I grinned.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" my trainer asked, raising a brow in suspicion.

"We're in Australia, why wouldn't I be in a good mood?"

Melbourne, Australia.

Damn did I love this place. With more than 420,000 spectators, the energy was incredible.

"Hm, I fee like it's more than that," he mused, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Remind me, when did Dakota get here?"

"Oh fuck off," I muttered, stepping on the back of his shoe as we exited the garage.

I shook my head as his laughter rang out over the chatter in the pitlane.

I had arrived earlier than usual at the track with Charles for the Melbourne Walk. Albert Park had a unique set up for the race weekend and fans were allowed to interact with the teams, as well as us drivers on their way to the track.

Charles and I spent a good hour doing the walk and I think my hand was about to fall off my wrist from the amount of autographs I'd signed.

I never realized the full extent of my fanbase until this weekend. It made me realize that I just might be as popular as the prince himself, Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc.

Jesus that's a mouthful.

I sent Dakota a quick text, letting her know how popular I was. She responded with a playfully annoyed text that said something along the lines of "If i wanted to kill myself I'd climb your ego and jump to your IQ."

Typical Kota, always the charmer.

I turned my head as a loud cheer erupted from the crowd. Of course, the home favorite Daniel Ricciardo was waving to the crowd from his garage. He was the only one out of the 20 drivers who was Australian, unlike the plethora of British and German drivers on the grid.

"Alessandro!" a voice called from the grandstands as I pulled my race suit over my shoulders.

I squinted as the sun glared into my eyes and waved in the direction of the voice. Aaron chuckled, shaking his head as the fans cheered in excitement.

"I cannot believe they're obsessed with you, of all people."

"Don't be rude, Matthews," I scorned teasingly, prompting Aaron to flip me off discreetly.

Time seemed to fly by because after what felt like a few moments, I found myself sitting in the car and waiting for the back markers to line up after the formation lap.

E>"Radio check?"

A>"Loud and clear."

E>"Final two approaching grid slots... lights out in 5."

The low hum of the cars filled my ears as I held my breath, waiting for the five lights to go out.

I could see Charles ahead to my left, slightly ahead of me and behind me was the RedBull of Max Verstappen.