"And if you have a minute, why don't we go talk about it somewhere only we know?"
-
Maya Beaulieu, born and raised in Montreal, has heard the stories about Lance Stroll, the boy who grew up down the street of where she lived. All the reason to stay...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚊'𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚟
September 8th, Montreal, Canada
I wake up with Lance's arm wrapped around my body. My head rests on his chest, and only a blanket covers my naked body.
He looks peaceful when he's asleep. He doesn't look like the guy the media constantly tries to capture. He didn't act like it either last night.
"You're staring again," He mumbles, slowly shifting to stroke his hand through my hair.
I want to kiss him, but I am afraid of what it means. What did last night mean to him? I had let go of the shield built around me. I had given in to his demeanor. Am I going to be one of his conquests? Something I tried desperately not to be.
"You want me to stare at you," I reply, a smirk tugging at my lips.
"It's not the first time you're staring at me. Don't try to deny it."
I roll my eyes playfully and nudge him, "Shut up."
"You're gonna have to make me."
I roll my eyes again and sit up straight, wrapping the blanket tighter around me, "You are awful..."
Lance's hands slide between the blanket, gently roaming over my body, "Don't do that. It's nothing I haven't seen yet," He smirks and kisses my shoulder.
"Lance, we decided not to overdo it." I remind him, but his touch is more than welcome.
"Can't I enjoy the view a little?"
I turn around, unable to do anything else, but look at him with my mouth open. Speechless due to his comment. I roll my eyes and grab my bra from the pile of clothes at the foot end of the bed. I'll need to quickly get home to shower and freshen up for the day.
What is the time anyway?
I grab my phone. 4:50 AM. God, it is early.
I look around for our clothes, I am not very eager to wear my panties from last night, and I have no interest in wearing my pants without them.
Lance kisses my shoulder again, "I think I have sweatpants you can borrow." He says as if he can read my mind.
"Yes, please," I reply and give him a thankful smile.
He gets up, walks to his backpack, and grabs the sweatpants. I gratefully accept the clothing and slip it on, "Thank you."
Lance dresses himself as well, and out of instinct, I look away, waiting for him to be ready.
"You have seen it already, Maya. Gosh, you were begging for it last night." He says with a teasing voice.
I close my eyes, reliving his touch, awakening goosebumps. It'd felt so incredibly good. So much better than the first time he kissed me. It was so different, but I don't know why it was so different .
