barely legal | max verstappen ✓

chapter 10 | drunk words, sober thoughts

«Drunken monologues, confused because it's not like I'm falling in love, I just want you to do me no good. And you look like you could.»

---

If her brain allowed her to think, she could pinpoint the moment when she should've told Irina she wouldn't go out with Salma and her. Her friend approached her while she was dying on the treadmill, slowing the speed as Sloane eyed her and removed her headphones. Irina — very smiley despite the many times she'd ended up cursing Salma after a night out — casually mentioned something about a party the French model was invited to, and Sloane couldn't even half-ass an excuse to not go. Something about Vivianne, or even Max, she just straight-up accepted.

At the time it seemed like a good idea because Irina was Irina and Salma, even with her attitude, always knew how to party. But now finding herself pressed against a guy she'd never seen in her life, Sloane began thinking she could've stayed home. She didn't know if her brain wasn't connecting with other functionalities, or if everything moved on its own. Something akin to fear started to settle in her. The guy was too close.

"And what do you do for work?" He asked, pressing himself even more to her. She swore one of his fingers brushed the end of her dress. Fuck.

Sloane blinked a couple of times. Everything was too blurry. "I am a...nurse." The r's sounded slurred which meant she was gone.

His gaze ran all over her body. It made her uncomfortable and uneasy. "You look like you could be a model. Not a nurse."

There was a noise coming out of her, between an awkward chuckle and a panicked snort. She didn't like the way he tried to get closer to her, how the fabric of his jeans felt against her legs and his fingers ghosted her dress. She wanted him to step back. To leave her alone.

"Not a model." Sloane swallowed, trying to press herself harder to the wall behind as if that would help to get some distance from him. The guy just looked at her with intent.

She was very drunk and under something else, and this man, this man, she thought with disgust, wanted to insist. He was already all over her but she was too blasted, and she wondered if at some point she'd given him a sign of interest. If it was her fault that he was harassing her. But she didn't, she just drank by the bar and this man, who wasn't Max, or anyone else she wanted, thought she was interested. That he had the right to touch her just because she existed. And Salma and Irina, Sloane tried to recall where they were, but she couldn't remember the last time she saw them and it felt like she would cry, scream or anything that could get that guy away from her because he was about to—

"Alright, pack it up Bob The Builder, she's not interested." Irina appeared in between sweaty bodies and settled herself like a wall between her and the guy. She stumbled a little but managed to push him away with a swift move. "Get lost." Irina snapped her fingers, and Sloane could also hear the slurred words from her.

His brows furrowed. "This is between me and her. You should get lost."

"Look, minion," Irina started, reaching for Sloane's arm to regain some balance. The guy was indeed shorter than her. Sloane wanted to giggle. "This isn't between you and her. Also, she has a boyfriend, so...get lost. Go, go." She shushed him away with a hand.

The guy fixed his glare on her. "Bitches."

He looked at them one more time like they were the ones bothering him and he wasn't harassing her, and then turned around, cursing in French and gesturing with his hands. They stared at him until he was gone from view. Irina turned so fast, Sloane was surprised she didn't trip. None of the two was in good shape at the moment.