LEGACY/// FORMULA ONE (3)

SIXTY ONE

SIXTY ONE

TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF ABUSE, ASSAULT AND RAPE

Canada was nice.

Except for the fact that it was the home race of the Racing Point driver, Lance Stroll.

Larissa hated him.

She didn't really have a proper reason, but everything that he did wrong just added to the list of why she hated him.

He hit on her at the party at the start of last season, he crashed in to her, he nearly made her hit a wall, he breathed in her direction, he knocked over her drink, he stole Esteban's seat.

He may have helped and caught her when she escaped her burning car in Germany, but it would never change how she felt towards him, wanting nothing more than to punch him repeatedly in his stupid face.

"Larissa... can we have a word?"

Lance Stroll asked as he stood in front of the Cohen girl, a sad frown upon his youthful face, hands shaking slightly in nerves.

"Have two... fuck off."

Larissa Cohen spoke without turning to him, too busy typing on her phone and messaging her Japanese friend who was about to start his race. Her hair was down her back instead of tied back, since she hadn't bothered to put her black hair in to a ponytail just yet.

"Larissa, I-I just want to apologise for whatever I've done that made you hate me this much." The Canadian stuttered, biting on his bottom lip as he began to regret it.

"Breathing, that's what." She responded with zero hesitation, not glancing up from her phone. "Get away from me, I can smell your daddy's money from here."

"Is that why you hate me? Because of my dad?" He furrowed his eyebrows together.

"I hate you for you." The Cohen girl snarked. "Do I have to scream for you to leave me alone? Literally, Stroll, get lost. I'm preoccupied here and you're making me misspell my words to Yuki so I would recommend leaving me alone before I punch you, or vow to crash in to you in your home race."

Lance released a sad huff of oxygen from his lungs, nodding his head as he began to step away, admitting defeat and realising that the battle was lost with trying to make Larissa his friend.

As he was walking away, he heard her shout his last name, making him turn around.

"But I was right wasn't I? Didn't take long for daddy's money to buy you a seat." She smirked, still not looking at him. "Now get lost."

Lance nodded and walked away, but he was still able to hear her shout one last remark at him.

"Oh and Esteban says Fuck You."

____________________________________________________

***

"Are you wearing a Brazilian flag made in to a dress?"

"Well I thought I'd make it clear to the Canadians who I'm rooting for!"

Zahra Bailey grinned in happiness as she wrapped her arms around her best friend, a green and yellow dress with small bits of blue covering her body which was made out of a Brazilian Flag.

Her dark skin was glowing, whether it was from the sunlight, the makeup and skincare or just happiness, but Larissa took note of just how stunning she looked, as if she had everything in the world going right for her.

"I'm honored."

Larissa chuckled, her head facing her feet as she felt the warmth in her chest knowing that Zahra was out and walking in the paddock openly wearing her countries flag as an outfit, and looking amazing in it.