The Fight • Max Verstappen•

•seventeen•

SCARLET

The early evening Australian sun beamed down, the orange tint in the sky perfectly meeting the horizon of the ocean. I leaned back in the lounger as my skin absorbed the rays and picked up the fun pink cocktail that was sat on the table next to me.

The cocktail was fruity and full of life which greatly contrasted my current state. I was half asleep at best and the warmth of the sun was not at all helping. "Are you hungry?" I asked as I turned my head to the boy on the sun lounger next to me.

His sculpted chest softly rising and falling almost in perfect sync with the crashing of the waves. "Pierre, are you hungry?" I asked again.

There was no answer. I sat up from the sun lounger and stood up. I dunked my fingers into my drink and flicked the liquid against his tan physique. The Frenchman shuffled slightly but not enough to awake him from slumber.

I crouched down beside him, "Pierre..." I whispered; I drew my cold fingers along his chest feeling every breath he took. His lips parted slightly, and I took this chance to softly press my lips against his. For a moment I wondered if he was going to realise, but as he kissed back, I knew he was awake again.

He hummed a noise of pleasure against my lips as I drew away. As he came around and sat up I took a sip of my drink, and playfully kept the straw between my lips. "Now that was a nice way to wake up." Pierre affirmed as he took his sunglasses off and placed them on the table.

I smiled, "I was going to shout, but I thought that might just ruin the wonderful day we have had."

After my win on Sunday myself, Pierre, George, Lando and Alex had arranged a dinner at the Blue Duck Restaurant. It was such a lovely dinner filled with many laughs and a few too many glasses of champagne; however the good vibes promptly ended when one Max Verstappen joined our dinner with a girl on his arm.

The girl, who he introduced as Ana, was actually very nice although I wasn't quite sure how the invitation had been extended to her. Nevertheless they sat down and we shared some drinks, we found out that she worked for Qantas and had met Max on the flight over.

Pierre sat on the edge of sun bed next to me, "I'm not sure anything could ruin this day," He replied sweetly. His lips pressed against my forehead. "Although, perhaps we should head back to the hotel and get some food?"

I nodded. "Room service?" I suggested which was met with agreement from Pierre.

He took our empty glasses back to the beach bar whilst I packed up our belongings and placed them in my purple canvas tote bag. I slung it over my shoulder, slid my flip flops onto my feet and walked towards the bar to meet him.

The hotel was only a short walk from St Kilda's beach and the route we took was dotted with cool coffee shops and bars. Even for a Tuesday everywhere was incredibly lively and bustling with people.

Once we reached the hotel we both went to our separate rooms. The idea of sharing had crossed my mind but this thing with Pierre was incredibly new and we had both agreed that we wanted to keep it light and airy - at least until we knew where it was headed.

I enjoyed my time with Pierre, it felt effortless being around him. Whenever I saw him around the paddock he always waved, and as small as that be, it made me feel seen. It was tough not to feel swallowed alive by the pressure of the seat, and with the weight of the expectations growing every day; every time I saw Pierre it gave me comfort. Of course I had Lewis, and George, but having Pierre on my side just made me happy.

Naturally it was never my intention to feel the way I do for him and whilst I'm not exactly sure what those feelings are, I knew that I liked it and why would I deny myself something that made me feel good? We had both made it clear that we wanted to keep our careers and 'this' separate. On the track we were competitors but off of the track, we were... well, discovering 'this'.