Here With Me - A Formula 1 Story

Neon Moon

It's been a week since I've heard from Charles. Days of him ignoring me, or at least it seems like it. I've texted him everyday, just once, but no response to any of them. The last one I asked if I had done something wrong and still no response. I'm angry. I at least deserve a response, even if it's him telling me to leave him alone. 

He has a race tomorrow so I know he's busy, but he could at least send a quick text. I also know he's been posting on social media because I'm currently on Instagram, and see he's been posting to his stories. I decide to check out the tag for this weekends race to see what other people are posting when I come across a post made by Charlotte, Charles' ex. She's wearing a Ferrari hat, and it looks like she's in the Paddock, specially in the Ferrari garage and my stomach drops. No wonder he has been ignoring me. I quickly click out of Instagram and turn my phone off.

I don't want to torture myself so turning my phone off is my only option at this point. My body is hot yet cold as I process the fact that Charlotte is there. I'm not even sure why I'm so bothered by it, Charles and I only went on one date. He dated her for three years. I guess I'm just disappointed because I thought we had fun, and I thought he wanted to get to know me more. It's driving me crazy that this man is making me feel this way. I'm a 30 year old woman, I shouldn't be this affected by a man who I've only gone on one date with. 

Not being able to be inside my apartment while I feel like this, I decide to go out for a drink. Hopefully that will help me feel better. I walk to my closet to pick an outfit. I end up picking a pair of high waisted jean shorts, and a plain black tank top with my cowboy boots. Grabbing my purse, I make sure to take my phone even though it's off and head out the door. I decide to just walk to a local bar down the street. When I get there it's crowded and the atmosphere is making me feel instantly better. 

When I take a seat at the bar, the man sitting next to the one I just took looks over at me with interest and I give him a soft smile. The bartender walks up at that moment and asks what I want. I reply with two shots of whiskey and the man sitting beside me watches me curiously. The bartender lines up the shots in front of me and I'm opening my purse to pay when the man next to me stops me by putting money down for the bartender. I grab one of the shots and tip it towards him in thanks as I pour it in my mouth. The man and I keep eye contact as I grab the second shot and down it too. 

"Hi, I'm Trent." He tells me, as I watch as his eyes roam over my face, lingering on my lips. My stomach dips, but I'm not sure if it's from intrigue or guilt.

"Hi Trent, I'm Lydia." I reply and I watch his eyebrows shoot up in the air, I'm assuming because of my accent. 

"American?" He asks and I can't help but smile. 

"Texan." I reply, as my eyes roam over his face. He's handsome. Blond with brown eyes with a sprinkling of freckles, his hair is gorgeous though, about shoulder length and luscious. 

"I'm from Oregon." He tells me and I'm intrigued. I feel so much better when I know he's American which is so silly, but I feel like I won't be judged by him at least, unlike everyone else in the bar. I watch as Trent flags down the bartender and orders 2 shots of whiskey. He hands one to me while holding the other. We cheers and down the shots, staring at each other the whole time. I'm about to say something when I see a flash in our direction and I furrow my brows as I see a man with a camera pointing towards us. Pointing towards me. I realize a little too late that it's the same man who was trying to get a photo of me in Charles car. I frown as I watch him walk out of the bar. 

"You okay?" Trent asks and I shake off whatever I just saw. I must have been mistaken, why would that same photographer be following me for a photo. 

"Yes. I'm perfect. So tell me why you're in Italy!" I say and Trent and I proceed to talk all evening. I find out he's here for a study abroad program and I nearly fall off my barstool when he tells me his age. When he finds out I'm 30 he calls me a liar and I had to prove it to him. Its honestly been a ridiculous night, but I'm having fun. It's getting late and I'm talking about walking home. I'm basically sober because I stopped drinking hours ago after my third shot.