Red Hot! (Sebastian Vettel)

22. The Down Side of Being Drunk

Libby began to panic.  She fought to free herself from her unknown assailant's grasp.  It was useless.  He was too strong.  Desperately, she began kicking backwards, trying to make contact with his shin. 

"Libby! Calm down!  It's me.  It's only me!" she heard a familiar voice say.  Her body relaxed and she felt herself being turned around to face him.   Her relief turned into anger. 

"What the fuck were you playing at?" she screamed, beating his chest with her fists.  He grabbed her wrists to restrain her.  

"I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to scare you.  I called your name out, I thought you'd heard me!"

"No! Jesus Christ Sebastian, are you trying to fucking kill me? Why are you here anyway? Aren't you supposed to be in Switzerland?"

Seb smiled at her in the moonlight.  He'd missed her so much.  He reached a hand out and gently brushed her cheek with his fingertips.  Then he remembered her phone call.  He pulled his hand back and scowled. 

"Well obviously not," he snarled. 

It was a good job he had been over in the U.K. already when she'd called him.  He'd arrived that afternoon, two days earlier than planned after he'd accepted a request from Sky F1 to film an interview with him to show during the build up to the British Grand Prix. 

After she'd hung up on him he'd jumped out of bed and thrown on a T-shirt and a pairs of jeans before practically running to his car to drive the six miles between his hotel and Libby's home.  He was fuming.  If she thought he was going to let her fuck Joel she had another think coming.  She was his.  The thought of another man laying a finger on her drove him mad.  He knew one day she might find someone else that could give her everything he couldn't, but Joel wasn't that man.  He wasn't good enough for Libby.  He was just a boy.  She deserved a man. 

He'd pushed the speed limit all the way and as he'd pulled up outside her house she'd climbed out of a taxi just in front of him.   To his relief she'd been alone.  Joel was nowhere to be seen.  Had she already shagged him?  Surely not, unless he'd been a one minute wonder.  She hadn't had time. 

He'd watched her as she removed her shoes and staggered up the pathway.  She was definitely drunk.  He'd thought about leaving now he knew she had got home safe and alone, but in the end his need to see her, to touch her, had won.

Libby put her hands on his chest and shoved him. "Dickhead," she muttered,  half heartedly. The corners of Seb's mouth twitched as he tried not to smile.  He was still angry with her.   He crouched down and picked up her handbag, which she'd dropped when he'd pushed her up against her door.   He slipped his hand in and immediately located the keys that Libby had been having so much trouble finding. 

Libby snatched them out of his hand without so much as a thank you.  She managed to unlock the door without any more trouble.   Seb followed her inside without waiting to be invited.   He closed the door behind him.  

"Give me your keys," he snapped.  Libby did as he said before heading into the kitchen.   Seb locked the door and followed her.  She took a glass out of the cupboard and filled it up with water.

"What the fuck was that phone call about Libby?" he demanded. 

"Phone call?"  Seb sighed. Was she really that drunk that she couldn't even remember calling him? 

"You rang me to tell me you'd snogged Joel and that you were going to shag him."   Libby started giggling.

"Oh yes, I remember."

"What did you do that for? Why do you need Joel? You have me!"  he asked sternly.  Libby stopped laughing and glared at him. 

"You've been a jerk!" she said, jabbing him in the chest with an index finger.