Somewhere Only We Know - Lance Stroll

𝓽𝔀𝓸

August 3rd, Montreal, Canada

"Good night, dad!" I shout when I open the door. "Good luck at the firehouse."

"Good night, mija. I'll see you tomorrow." My dad walks into the hallway and gives me a quick smile. His firehouse uniform is slowly becoming too big for him, but I keep my mouth shut. I know better than starting this discussion with my dad.

"See you tomorrow, Cap." I say before I give him a playful wink, before looking into the mirror in the hallway. My black curls dancing with the movement my head made, and my skin glowing a sweet tint from the August sun.

I walk out the door, and even though it is past 7:00 PM, it is still 23º C, but it is cooler in the park, and when I arrive at the treehouse, the temperature has dropped 2° in total. I climb up, and let out a relieved sigh.

Lance hasn't arrived yet, if he's even coming.

I sit down, and look at the setting sun. The sky slowly fills itself with orange and purple colors. I smile at the combination, and the beautiful painting it creates.

"A little help, please?"

His voice cuts through the silence, and I look down to see Lance standing with a big shopper-bag and a take-out coffee cup holder.

I laugh at the image in front of me, "What are you doing?"

Lance chuckles, "I thought that pillows and blankets would sit more comfortably than the wood."

I shake my head as I climb half way down the ladder to accept the coffee, and put it on the treehouse floor.

"I'll bring some more pillows another time." He says as he give me one.

"It is not needed," I gesture to the corner of the roofed part of the treehouse. "I've got pillows and blankets in the basket there. I used to sleep here sometimes, last summer. Especially when my dad had his night shifts at the firestation."

"Oh," He chuckles nervously. "I didn't mean to–"

"I know."

"What makes you love the sunsets so much?" Lance asks, breaking the silence.

"I used to watch them with my mom when I was little. It was something between her and I. We watch the sunset and we wait for the stars to appear. And then, when we see one shooting, we wish that my dad makes it home safely, unharmed."

"Used to?" I hear the carefulness in his voice, as if he is afraid to ask the question. Afraid of hitting a spot he isn't sure of should be hit.

"My parents separated," I don't know why I am telling this to Lance, of all people, but I will just pretend he's a complete stranger. "She couldn't bear the fear anymore and my dad refused to leave the firehouse. Eventually, she moved to Denver, and I stayed with my dad."

"Do you see her often?"

"No. We used to call from time to time, but I haven't seen her since 2018. So, that's about five years now," I sigh at the thought, about the memories I have of my mom. But telling Lance, makes me realize I don't miss her that much anymore. "What about you?"

"I think watching them is a waste of time," He shrugs. "But they're peaceful too. And they are beautiful. They ease my mind, and that's exactly what I need right now."

"With the pressure of racing?"

"Yes. Don't get me wrong, I love racing and I am grateful for the chances I've gotten. But the pressure is also extremely high, the team has expectations and I want to perform. Let's just say, there's no such thing as peace in Formula One."

I nod, trying to build sympathy for him, because right now he doesn't look like the boy the media has portrayed him to be. He doesn't look like a womanizing jerk. He looks civil, he acts civil.

But maybe that's because I've known him for 24 years.

Lance leans in a bit closer, "What about you, Maya? How's the writing going?"

I tense up at his question, feeling a bit defensive, "It's going fine. Just some writer's block here and there. I come here during the day as well to try and write."

Lance nods, "I can understand how that feels. Sometimes you just need a change of scenery to get the creativity flowing again."

I give him a small smile, surprised at his understanding. But then he ruins the moment with his next words, "Or maybe you just need a break and a good distraction. I'm sure I could provide that for you."

I scoff at his words, mentally taking back every thought about him not looking like the media says.

"As if I would ever consider you a good distraction."

Lance laughs, "Come on, Maya. You can't tell me you don't find me attractive."

I shake my head, "I can tell you that, and I just did. I have absolutely no interest in being one of your conquests, Lance."

Lance leans back again, looking a bit amused, "Conquests? That's a bit harsh, don't you think? I just like to have a good time."

I glare at him, feeling a bit disgusted at his words, "And leave a trail of one-night stands and broken hearts behind you."

Lance shrugs, "It's not my fault if girls can't handle me. I'm just living my life the fullest. They immediately expect commitment after a one night stand and barely even talking."

"You're so full of yourself, it is disgusting. I really wonder why so many girls fall for you."

Lance grins, "I'm just being honest with you, Maya. And who knows, maybe you'll fall for me too."

I give him a deadpan look, "In your dreams, Stroll."

Lance's grins widens, clearly enjoying the banter. "Well, I do have some pretty good dreams."

I roll my eyes, feeling my annoyance growing. "Ugh, you're insufferable."

"You know what?" His facial expression drops a bit, he leans forward again and his voice becomes more serious. "I think you're just too uptight. You need to loosen up and have some fun."

I narrow my eyes at him, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks, "Excuse me? Who are you to judge me or to tell me how to live my life?"

Lance leans back, his expression turning smug, "I'm just saying, you seem like you're wound up pretty tight. Maybe you need someone like me to help you relax."

"I'm not interested, Lance. So save your breath." I stand up and walk to the ladder, planning on leaving the treehouse, and absolutely done with the conversation.

"You know, Maya, you're not as tough as you think you are. I'll wear you down eventually."

I turn around to face him, my anger is rising and I regret not turning around when I saw him sitting here yesterday. "Don't count on it, Lance. I'm not one of your bimbos who falls for your charms."

Lance shrugs, a cocky smile on his face, "We'll see about that."

With that, I turn around and climb down the ladder. I can't believe I ever thought the media might have misportrayed him, that the stories were just the drama that belonged to being famous. But the way he speaks to me, the way he thinks he can have me or any other girl, it enrages me.