The United States Grand Prix could not have gone more perfectly for Franco's half of the Williams garage. Franco finished the race in tenth place, and would have ended with the fastest lap of the race, had Esteban Ocon not pitted to take away the extra point from the Argentine driver. It was a nearly perfect drive, especially considering the idea of points seemed slim coming into the weekend.

"Congratulations!" cried Evita when she saw Franco enter the garage.

"Thanks, Ev," said Franco, his face flushed as he approached her and stopped, instead of squeezing past her to put away his helmet and gloves.

Evita even surprised herself as she wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging the young driver. Franco paused for a moment before relaxing into the embrace, his hands going to Evita's waist.

"That was fantastic," complimented Evita. "I'm really happy for you."

Franco pulled away enough to see Evita's face, raising an eyebrow at her. "Are you feeling okay, Evita? Because if I knew better, I'd think you were starting to like me," he said.

Evita rolled her eyes. "You wish, Franco." But there was no malice in her tone, just an uncharacteristic lightness. "Come on, let's go to the media pen."

Franco was buzzing with energy as they walked from the garage to the media pen for interviews. He explained everything that happened during the race to Evita, who for once was listening intently. She liked hearing him talk, the way he got so excited to describe his overtake against Fernando Alonso. Evita, who had been watching the race, had to admit it was a fantastic move.

"You're not just saying that?" asked Franco.

"Why would I say your race was good if I didn't mean it?" asked Evita. "Come on, Franco, you know me better than that."

Franco shrugged. "I guess you're right. I love how brutally honest you are."

Evita's face heated up, a sensation she had begun to associate with Franco's constant flirtations. Flirtations that were becoming less and less obnoxious.

"I'll be good during my interviews, I promise," said Franco when they arrived at the media pen.

"Are you saying you don't usually try to behave?" asked Evita.

"No," said Franco. "But it's fun to push your buttons."

"Just go," said Evita, rolling her eyes.

Evita thought the first interview went smoothly. Or she hoped it had. She hadn't been entirely paying attention to the words coming out of Franco's mouth.

The sun was beginning to set behind the paddock, casting a warm golden glow over everything. The light hit Franco just right, illuminating his face, catching the lines of his jaw, and making his light brown hair look like it was glowing. He stood there, completely at ease, answering questions with that natural charm that always seemed to win people over, somehow including Evita.

It was unfair how someone could look that good without even trying.

Evita's eyes trailed over him, his broad shoulders, the way his arms flexed subtly beneath his fireproofs as he gestured while talking. She was barely holding back a smile, completely captivated by how the light accented his green eyes, the curve of his lips. He looked so collected, for once, and Evita couldn't take her gaze off him.

"Evita?"

She blinked, realizing that Franco had finished the first interview and was now looking at her, a teasing smirk forming as if he knew exactly what she'd been thinking. Her cheeks flushed instantly, but she kept her expression cool.

"That was quick," she said, trying to act casual, even though her heart was racing.

Franco raised an eyebrow. "You sure? Because I'm pretty sure I went overtime again."

Evita glanced at her phone. He was right.

Franco laughed softly at the expression Evita was making. He stepped closer, the warmth of his body brushing hers as he leaned in just enough to make her pulse quicken even more. "You were staring."

"No I wasn't," said Evita. She met his eyes again, finding a determined look in them. Franco wasn't going to back down until she admitted it. "Fine. The lighting looked nice. On you. You looked good," she clarified.

Franco's expression faltered for a split second, a flash of surprise crossing his face before he regained his composure, a cocky grin spreading across his lips. "Yeah?"

Evita fought back a grin as she brushed past him. "Don't let it get to your head, Fran. You have another interview."

"Fran? Evita, you have no idea what you do to me," said Franco, picking up his pace to match hers.

"Just go to your interview," said Evita, rolling her eyes.

She was actually able to pay attention to the second one. It went very well; Franco spent time talking about his various stints with the tyres, and how he did his best to overtake Liam Lawson, who finished in front of him. Towards the end of the interview was when things went awry.

"I had the fastest lap until the end, until the French man took it," he said, referring to Esteban Ocon. The same man who was currently walking behind Franco, listening to his every word. The same man whom Evita knew spoke Spanish and could understand what Franco was saying. Evita shook her head in disbelief, there was nothing she could do at this point. Franco was oblivious to her annoyance and carried on with his interview as if nothing had happened. "It is a pity. Why did he have to box? They used a set for nothing, they should have thought about the environment." His tone was joking, but Evita could pick up on the subtle annoyance in his voice.

Franco finished up the interview and found Evita standing behind the camera, hands on her hips. He made a face when he saw the stern expression on hers.

"What did I do this time?" he asked.

Evita took one look at his nervous expression and burst into laughter. "I'm not going to yell at you this time, if that's what you're worried about."

Franco's shoulders relaxed. "Good. But I did something, didn't I?"

"Why did you have to talk about Ocon like that when he was right behind you?" asked Evita.

"That's why you were shaking your head?" asked Franco. Evita nodded in confirmation. "Sorry, Ev. I didn't see him. Surely he won't be mad, right?"

"I hope not. But we're going back to the motorhome and drafting an apology to post in case his team says something," said Evita. "But I'm not too mad, it was kind of funny."

Franco slung an arm around Evita's shoulders as they walked. "I think the break was good for you. You're so relaxed now. It's really nice."

Evita didn't shrug him away or correct him. He was right. She was loosening up a little, allowing Franco to show a little more of his personality during interviews, without admonishing him for it. The fans loved him for who he was, and she was starting to feel the same way.