Page 52 of Formula Chance

I should feel relieved, but for some reason, unease settles in my core.

“Ready to call it a night?” she asks softly.

“Yeah,” I say, grateful for the excuse to pivot to something other than revisiting our past.

Because when Bex asks if I’m ready to leave, that means we’re going back to her room and we’re going to get lost in each other’s arms where none of this matters.

CHAPTER 18

Bex

Wiping my handson my pants to dry the nervous sweat, I take a deep breath. My heart jackhammers, but this isn’t a new feeling. It happens before every race. Granted, it might be pounding a little harder because the stakes are bigger. I’m in Formula International, the pinnacle of racing. I’m solely responsible for the strategy that will make our drivers win or lose. With ten teams, that means there are only ten of these jobs in the world, and I’m the first woman to hold this position.

Today are the qualifying rounds and tomorrow is the race. Yesterday were the practice rounds and both Nash and Matthieu had excellent runs, and surprisingly, I got little pushback from the latter. I don’t dare hope it will be that easy today or tomorrow, because qualifying and the race are infinitely more stressful than just practice runs around the track.

I was so proud of Nash yesterday. He’s got demons to conquer and no matter how much stolen simulator time he takes at night, no matter how hard he studies the tracks, no matter how hard he works out, he told me last night that there’s still a tiny bit of him that isn’t quite sure he’s ready.

He’s wrong, of course. And I told him that. I’ve watched him closely, combining what I knew about him three years ago and the man I see today, and I’m confident he’s going to be better than he ever was before. I told him that much and I think he heard me. He came off the practice rounds beaming with pride and an eagerness to get back out there today and battle.

And it will be a battle.

Qualifying is everything. It determines where each driver starts on the grid—a staggered order of starting positions according to their qualifying times.

There are three qualifying rounds—Q1, Q2 and Q3. In Q1, all the drivers hit the track, but only the top fifteen fastest advance to Q2. From there, the field narrows again, with the top ten moving on to Q3. That final round is where the fight for pole position—the coveted first spot on the grid—happens and getting that spot can make you upward of sixty percent more likely to win the race.

Qualifying isn’t just about raw speed, though. Timing your laps to avoid traffic, managing tires and finding the perfect rhythm all play a role so strategy is crucial. Every decision counts because a good qualifying result can make or break your race. Both Nash and Matthieu made it to Q3, which is a feather in my cap given my new position with the team.

We’re getting ready to start the Q3 round and once again, I wipe my sweaty hands on my pants, even though it’s lovely weather. March in Australia is like fall in Europe and the telemetry data shows it’s a cool twenty degrees Celsius, around seventy Fahrenheit, with a light breeze. There’s no rain in the forecast and the only downside is that the sun is very bright without any cloud cover, which could affect driver vision.

I’m seated at the pit wall, headset on, monitors lit up in front of me.

My focus is razor sharp.

It’s do or die.

“Get Nash out there,” I tell Alex. He is well versed in our strategy, ready to relay all the detailed information we’ve been formulating for days plus everything we went over during our morning meeting.

“Nash, you’re up,” he says into the mic. “We want you to go for a strong banker lap. Tires are primed.”

“Copy that,” Nash replies, his tone calm but with an edge of determination. He’s been like this all weekend—focused, driven and calm in a way that reassures me, minus that small creep of doubt he had last night.

As Nash pulls out of the garage, I glance at Matthieu’s data. He’s in his car, helmet on and ready for our command.

I motion to Petr who will talk Matthieu through the round.

“Matthieu, we’re going to have you go out as soon as Nash comes in,” Petr says over the comms. “Tires are optimal, so let’s make it count.”

There’s a pause before he responds. “Understood.”

Nash’s first sector time pops up on the monitor—purple. The fastest of the session so far.

“Sector 1 is strong,” I say to Alex, feeling a small thrill of satisfaction.

Alex relays that and adds, “Keep it up. The rear looks stable. No need to push too hard on this one.”

“Copy,” Nash replies, his voice clipped but focused.

The lap unfolds beautifully. He’s hitting every apex, carrying speed through the corners, and the data shows he’s managing the tires well.

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