heart of glass | LANCE STROLL

4.0 | dreaming

as soon as the pair left the club, making their way through the now dark monaco streets, conversation came easy to them. both were already somewhat tipsy from the club, so as they walked there was a slight stumble in both of their steps. they were slowly gravitating towards the other.

"i didn't get to ask what you do earlier," lance said as she shot a small smile over to the smaller woman.

"i am a musician, which is fun. i'm in a band with my two mates." this was conversation was verging on the most she had talked to one person this year.

"aoife and morgan, right?" he mentioned her bandmates, and reality came back to her; she remembered how fucking surreal this situation was. then she forgot it again when the pair make eye contact, and the canadian had a small smile tugging at his lips.

"mhmm," she hummed in response. a strange comfort radiated from the man she was walking with and she was intrigued. "where are we going?"

"you'll see," he smiled.

she raised a brow, and he didn't say anymore. maeve wasn't one to complain so she stayed silent too as they wandered through monte-carlo. this entire situation was surreal for her; being here in the first place, and now ambling down to the famous marina with an f1 driver only an inch away. holy fuck, was the only thing going through her head.

"you own a boat?"

"yeah but i'm only renting this one for the weekend."

her face contorted in an expression that read: 'are you taking the fucking piss?!'. she knew he was rich was this was pushing it.

he just laughed.

it was kinda cute.

"come on," he signalled her to follow him. "i'll show you it, it's pretty nice. and good for some peace and quiet."

maybe not quiet as the singer could hear the party of different boats in the distance. but, she was quickly mistaken as they walked closer to the yacht, it got quieter. most likely because lance didn't need to see the race; after all, he was already in it.

the yacht wasn't as big as some of the other yachts but that didn't mean it was small, it was still fucking huge! she attempted, successfully, to keep her cool as lance , who was already on the boat, outstretched a hand to help her on. she quickly accepted it and jumped on, landing right in front of him. she managed to not stumble into him, so a success.

the canadian didn't let go of her hand as he led her to the main deck of the yacht. his hands were strangely soft, compared to her hands which were littered with small scars and calluses from her beloved guitar. but she was glad that it was late so the small blush that was growing on her cheeks was invisible. he only let go of her hand when they reached a communal area with a bar and a living room area with sofas and a tv.

"what would you like to drink?" he asked as he switched on the overhead lights. he has his back to her as he made his way over to the bar.

"do you have any corona? or are you too rich for that?" she joked, as she sat at one of the bar's stools.

with a smile, he pulled out two beers from a fridge underneath the bar, placing them both on the bar. he also pulled out a bottle opener. as he did, she just opened her bottle off the other bottle.

"cheers," they said in unison, clinking their bottles together. they both held eye contact as they both had their first sips of the beer.

maeve took another sip before asking, "do you always take girls to the yacht you rented at monaco?" this was officially the most she had to talked to someone in this year.