Racing Rewind: My Formula 1 System

The ART team garage was a whirlwind of exhilaration, a cacophony of jubilant cheers and the sharp sound of clapping hands, all underscored by the sweet, steady hum of victory reverberating through the air. Mechanics, their faces flushed with excitement, shouted exuberantly at the top of their lungs, slapping each other on the back with hearty laughs and raising bottles of water in mock toasts, the liquid shimmering like confetti in the fluorescent lights above. For Henry, the scene felt almost surreal, an electrifying rush coursed through his veins, the adrenaline still buzzing in his system, while the distant echoes of the adoring crowd lingered in his ears like a fading symphony. He stood at the epicenter of the exuberance, a grin stretching across his face like a kid in a candy store, his helmet dangling loosely from his fingers, a trophy of his triumph.

Suddenly, Laurent strode toward him, arms thrown wide like an open embrace from the universe itself. "Henry Calder, you magnificent lunatic! You did it!" he boomed, his voice rich with pride and affection.

"Didn't hear you complaining when I took the flag," Henry shot back, a playful smirk dancing across his lips as Laurent enveloped him in a brief but rough hug, solid and reassuring.

Around him, the rest of the team closed in, each member a chorus of cheers and laughter, the air thick with camaraderie. "Man of the hour!" one of the engineers exclaimed, shaking Henry's hand with such vigor that he feared it might detach. Another mechanic draped an ART flag over his shoulders like a flowing cape, its vibrant colors fluttering around him as though he were a superhero in this chaotic celebration. Just then, out of nowhere, someone handed him a cold water bottle, and before he could register what was happening, Luca swooped in and doused him, the icy liquid cascading over his head and running down his back.

"Hey!" Henry spluttered in surprise, spinning around to glare at his teammate, now grinning like a mischievous child.

Luca shrugged, totally unapologetic. "That's for beating me, you smug bastard."

Henry wiped the cool water from his eyes, laughter bubbling up inside him like a wellspring of joy. "I'll remember this. Revenge will be cold and calculated."

They locked eyes, a playful intensity sparking between them for a moment before the tension broke, and they both erupted into laughter, clapping hands in a gesture of shared camaraderie, the friendship forged in the fires of competition.

As the initial rush of celebration began to wane, Henry sought solitude in a quieter corner at the back of the garage. The vibrant energy still crackled around him, shouts of joy resonating from the paddock, while distant fireworks exploded in the night sky, their colors a brilliant backdrop to his victory. But amid the collective celebration, he craved a moment to breathe. Leaning against a sturdy tool cabinet, his helmet resting on his knee, he pulled out his phone, ready to capture the moment and share it with his girl.

Henry: Won. Wish you were here.

Taryn: I saw. Screamed so loud my professor gave me a death glare. Congrats, champ!

Henry: Bet you looked cute screaming for me.

Taryn: Don't let it go to your head. 😉 Seriously though, I'm proud of you. I'll watch the replay later. You owe me dinner when you get back.

Henry: Deal. Miss you.

Taryn: Miss you too. Now go celebrate. You earned it.

Henry smiled at the glowing screen, his thumbs grazing the keyboard thoughtfully before he finally slipped his phone back into the pocket of his racing suit. There was something about her words that anchored him, grounding him amid the whirlwind of emotions that came with victory.

"Henry!" Laurent's authoritative voice rang out, slicing through the buzzing atmosphere of the garage. Henry turned to see his race engineer, a wiry figure with an air of urgency, gesturing impatiently for him to come over. "The federation wants you. Press interviews. You know the drill."

A groan escaped Henry's lips as he reluctantly pulled himself up from his comfortable seat on the edge of the pit wall. "Can't they just let me bask in my glory for five minutes?" he lamented, glancing back longingly at the small team celebrating his win.

Laurent chuckled, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. "Welcome to being a race winner. Drama and microphones, my friend. It's part of the territory."

As he walked out of the garage, the ART staff erupted in cheers, their faces lit with pride and excitement. Henry turned back, offering a playful two-finger salute over his shoulder, reveling in the jubilant moment. This was indeed his night.

Entering the press room felt like stepping onto a stage before an eager audience. The air was thick with energy as photographers jostled for position, their high-powered lenses snapping frantically at him as he made his entrance. Ayumu already occupied her seat, exuding a calm composure, her hands neatly folded in her lap. Beside her, Luca lounged back in his chair, arms crossed, the confident smirk on his face suggesting he was ready for the spectacle to unfold.

Henry slid into his chair, flashing a cheerful grin at both of them just as the first question came barreling through the noise.

"Henry, congratulations on your victory. Talk us through that final battle with Ayumu. Did you know you could make that move stick?"

Leaning into the microphone, Henry let his signature confidence flow. "I knew I had to go for it. Ayumu's an incredible driver, but when the chance came, I seized it. You don't get many opportunities at this level, and hesitation can cost you everything."

Ayumu nodded, acknowledging the compliment but remaining silent, her serene demeanor only deepening Henry's respect for her.

Before he could settle into the moment, the next reporter swiftly jumped in, jaws ready to bite. "You delayed your pit stop earlier in the race against your team's advice. Were you concerned that strategy might backfire?"

Henry shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Not really. I trusted my instincts, and Laurent backed me on it. In the end, it worked out perfectly. Fresh tires won me the race."

Luca let out a laugh from beside him, shaking his head. "Or it won you some drama," he teased.

The room erupted in laughter, the tension of the moment dissolving into shared amusement.

Almost immediately, another journalist seized the opportunity, their question dripping with hidden tension. "Henry, you and Liam Hargrave had a heated moment on track earlier when you overtook him. He didn't look pleased afterward. Can you comment on that?"

A smirk played at the corner of Henry's mouth as he leaned back slightly in his chair, enjoying the chance to stir the pot. "Racing is an emotional rollercoaster. You fight hard, and sometimes, others don't take well to losing. I respect Liam as a driver, but out there on the track, it's every man for himself."

Whispers of intrigue coursed through the press room at his pointed yet diplomatic response.

"Follow-up: were you aware that Liam called your move 'disrespectful' in his post-race debrief?" the reporter pressed, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Henry raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider into a grin. "I wasn't, but I'm not surprised. Liam's got opinions, and I've got trophies."

The room burst into laughter again, the tension easing into mirth. Even Ayumu managed a slight smile, her usual stoicism breaking, if only for a fleeting moment.

Once the interviews wrapped up and the camera flashes finally faded, Henry exhaled deeply, running a hand through his damp hair, a mix of sweat and adrenaline. Luca slapped him on the back as they exited the press room together, the weight of the media frenzy starting to lift.

"You just had to poke the bear, didn't you?" Luca teased, a gleam of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Liam'll live," Henry replied with a broad grin. "If he doesn't, I'll send him flowers or something."

They shared a laugh, the camaraderie between them restored, as they stepped outside into the cooler evening air. Waiting for him was Laurent, looking both pleased and a bit exasperated.

"Really, Henry? 'Liam's got opinions and I've got trophies?' You're going to be on every headline tomorrow," Laurent admonished, though the corners of his mouth twitched with suppressed laughter.

"Good," Henry retorted with a cheeky wink. "Let them write about it."

Laurent sighed good-naturedly, unable to hide the proud smile tugging at his lips. "You're impossible. Now come on, the team's waiting to toast you properly."

Taking a satisfying breath, Henry fell into step beside Laurent, the thrill of victory enveloping him. It wasn't just about the checkered flag; it was these electrifying moments, the celebration, the drama, and the overwhelming euphoria of being on top.

For now, he was exactly where he belonged.