"And if you have a minute, why don't we go talk about it somewhere only we know?"
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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...
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December 19th, Venice, Italy
The past two days were the definition of chaos. Everyone was running around to fix last-minute things and running the last errands. In those two days, Lance and I barely had time for each other.
I tried my best to help wherever I could and Lance kept practising walking down the aisle with Chloe until she too convinced him he would do great.
And he does it perfectly. He looks like the perfect proud brother as he takes his place at the altar, standing tall and proud as the best man at his sister's wedding. He is dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, exuding an air of confidence and charm.
My heart starts racing when our eyes meet for a brief second, and I feel an electric surge coursing through my body.
The soft glow of the candlelight burning next to Lance, illuminates his features, casting shadows that accentuate the chiselled lines of his face. His eyes look even softer in this light, but they pierce through me, and he knows they do.
His lips curve into a subtle, knowing smile, acknowledging the secret connection. I raise an eyebrow, and Lance gives me a quick wink before returning his attention to Chloe and Scotty. But I see the smile on his face, the smirk that sneaked on his lips right after I raised my eyebrow.
Chloe starts her vows, beautiful self-written vows promising Scotty and an entirety of love. Scotty returns the vows, self-written as well, promising to be there in better and worse, in sickness and health. They exchange the rings, and I catch Lance looking at me again. He gestures to the ring exchange with a slight tilt of his head and raises one of his eyebrows.
I raise both my eyebrows in surprise as I lean back in my chair. A mischievous spark ignites within me, and I decide to playfully challenge him.
With a slow and deliberate movement, I raise my hand to adjust my hair, allowing my fingers to brush against my neck. I watch as Lance's eyes widen just a bit and follow the movement. I smirk at him and slowly let my tongue run over my lips before placing my index finger against them.
Lance quickly looks at the almost newlyweds and the pastor, who gives them a short speech, before his eyes find mine again. He let his eyes roam over me, just stopping a tenth of a second at the curves of my cleavage.
His lips curve into another smile, and he nods ever so lightly.
"You may kiss the bride."
As Scotty takes a step forward, kissing the bride passionately, Lance has a mischievous glint in his eyes, and he subtly mouths the words: "You're driving me crazy."
My heart races, excitement coursing through my veins as I respond with a soundless chuckle.
Lance turns to Scotty, reaches out to shake his hand and welcomes him to the family, he gives his sister a hug and a kiss on the cheek. And then both the bride and groom leave the ceremony hall, making their way to the reception room.
