CHAPTER ONE
FORMULA FLASH

It was a random Monday evening in August when Imogen saw an unknown number flash up on her phone. She was already one glass of rosè deep, her friend Amira sat opposite her on the balcony. She goes to press the bright red button that almost looks like it's begging to be tapped on, but something stops her.

"Will you answer that bloody phone?" Jeremiah calls from the living room, he was watching some football match, hence the girls hanging out on the balcony.

Imogen answers the call on its last ring, and then she has a 10 minute conversation with a woman named Julie, the CEO of up and coming Formulae news outlet, Formula Flash. Imogen had heard of them, obviously, but how did they even get her number? Was this a joke? A scam? Had her number been ousted in one of those Apple data leaks that often warned her to change her passwords?

"Who is it?" Amira mouths when the conversation reaches to 20 minutes and Imogen has barely said more than "okay" and "yes".

Imogen waves a hand, and Amira sighs louder than she need have. She was a gossip lover, Amira. A primary school teacher during the day, and ruthless busybody at night...Well evening. Amira was usually in bed by 9pm.
Amira waits impatiently tapping her foot for a further 5 minutes before Imogen finally says "I'll be back in touch soon, thank you again Julie, for this amazing opportunity,"

As soon as the phone lands back on the table, Amira bursts, "Opportunity in what?!"

Imogen feels electric, her skin rises in goosebumps as a slow smile appears on her face, unable to keep Amira in anymore suspense she finally says it, "I got offered a new job,"

"Oh my god...What?! Where?"

"For Formula Flash, they're this new Formulae news outlet company, the CEO, Julie Hart has just been on the phone...To me... To me, Amira, I make silly little tiktoks and report about Rugby!" Imogen exclaims, finally, the reality of her conversation sinking in.

"Did you say yes?"

"Of course! It was a no-brainer," Imogen says.

"Wait!" Amira says, getting up and rushing into the house, earning a grumble from Jeremiah as she blocks the tv screen for 0.3 seconds.

She returns less than a minute later holding a bottle of rosè Prosecco and much thinner flute glasses than the wine glasses on the table already.

"Oh...There's no need for-"

"Girl, shut up," Amira says, not wasting a moment more as she pops the top and pours it into the glasses.

Imogen and Amira toast her new job and Jeremiah comes to the balcony door, helps himself to a swig of the Prosecco straight from the bottle and congratulates Imogen. Jeremiah and Amira had been dating since year 10 of secondary school. They'd broken up a few times here and there, but had always come back to one another. Amira teaches at a primary school and Jeremiah is a car sales man. They're about to have another round of drinks when the baby monitor perched on the coffee table begins screaming. The twins were awake and not very happy. Amira had fallen pregnant not long after finishing university and now she and Jeremiah had the twins- Leona and Lily. Now they were 2 years old and both as wild and loud as they had been born.

Imogen took the girls cries as a signal to leave. After all, it was a two person job looking after Leona and Lily and Imogen did not want to get roped in. She swiftly says her goodbyes and heads out of the two bed apartment her friends lived in. She finds silence and solitude in her car. Imogen plays soft indie music out the car speakers as she heads back home- a one bed flat in Bristol, where she'd lived since she was born. See, London had called, but she politely declined. Though, as she ambled up the stairs to her flat- due to the broken elevator (again)- she did wonder if she'd have to move there for this new job.

She unlocks the door, steps inside and finally feels like she can breathe. No more pretending, at least not for the rest of the day. Imogen slides out of her trainers and throws her bag on the side, taking out her phone and scrolling and scrolling and scrolling. After work, she often found herself lost in hours of social media- whether it be watching other content or making her own. She opens her laptop eventually and scrolls the proposed contract from Julie on the screen. Working as a shadow for a Jasper Orlo for a year while travelling around the globe for Formula 1 sounded fabulous. She'd go to every grand prix and stand in the background while Jasper interviewed race winners. She'd bump elbows with team principles and engineers, maybe even meet some of her heroes. It was as close to living her dream as she'd get, that was for sure.

Her phone pings with a notification and she glances away from the laptop. She see's the name 'Dad' and she instantly picks up the phone. He rarely messaged her- he wasn't a techie. Face ID reveals her hidden notifications. 'Dad - image attached'. She clicks and it opens up the image. Her father and mother stood in Monaco, and there, in the middle of them...The phone clatters against the floor before she even registers dropping it.

"Oh shit," She mutters, picking it back up. In her fumbling she accidentally reacts to it with a heart. "More shit,"

She can't remove the reaction now, it'd look too weird. She types a reply, deletes, types again. She can see her dad's online status on Whatsapp hovering there, like a hawk. Finally she replies, So glad you have a familiar face as a tour guide! Then she turns on do not disturb and locks her phone.

He was with them. Lando bloody Norris. Standing between her two beaming parents like years hadn't passed. Last time she'd seen him she'd begged him not to forget her now he was famous. He had, forgotten her that is. They hadn't spoken since they were teenagers. Even thinking of his name stirs up more memories than Imogen wants on her mind. Playing hide and seek in his family's massive garden, teasing him for never having kissed a girl, being the first girl he kissed, him being the first boy she kissed because she lied to him about it. She remembers the painful goodbye when his family moved to Glastonbury. She remembers wearing his hoodie every day to school for a year, Norris graffitied onto the back in neon green spray paint. She remembers visiting him and it was awkward, a rift already formed. He promised he's visit her and never did. He promised he's always find time for her and never did. He promised she'd always be his best friend and that was the biggest lie he ever told her.

She doesn't know when she started crying, only notices when a drop of water splatters onto her bare knee. Imogen wipes her eyes and takes a deep breath. It was history, the past, and she knew better than to dwell on it. Lando Norris had no right to take up so much space in her mind, and yet here he was, grinning and waving at her on the kart track where they met. Both of them 7 years old, birthdays only days apart. They'd both gotten into karting and their parents became friends on the trackside while they battled on the grit. Lando won by a split second, Imogen trailing him. Once out of their kart, Imogen stuck her tongue out at Lando and he did it back. For years, it was their greeting. Everyone thought they were rivals, thought they were being rude to one another, but they couldn't have been better friends.

Her laptop screen lights up with a follow up email from Julie. Tickets to the Bahrain GP in March the following spring. Imogen's jaw drops, she opens it and it's real. The email simply says "take the job or leave it, the ticket is yours either way"

Imogen pushes Lando Norris to the very back of her mind, opens the door, shoves him inside and locks it. She was taking the job, she had to, she had to seek happiness.

___________

This chapter is currently unedited.

If you can't tell, happiness and being happy is a big theme of this book and its one of my main characters big journeys!

i'm so excited to write this, but please be patient with me & also if i make mistakes, you're more than welcome to point them out to me, but please do so politely.

i love formula 1, but i definitely do not claim to be an expert! I'm still relatively new to the sport so if something i've wrote makes no sense, please again, politely point it out!

Thank you,
~cupidlies