𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕 𝙾𝚏 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙶𝚛𝚒𝚍

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗

~𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚜~

We are sitting in Max's apartment in Monaco. Checo won at my home race. Again another failed try to get a victory at home. At least I didn't get another DNF this time, a nice P4. Nice not literally meant. I could cry, which I actually did. I stood in my drivers room and some tears streamed down my face. Maybe not as much and hard as Y/N after the Netflix Interview but still making small wet spots on my shirt. I luckily caught myself before Carlos interrupted my self-blame spiral. He said that some of the grid meet up at Maxs and do a little get together.

Now here we are. Me being squeezed between George and Pierre. Alex, who is sitting on the other side of George, gives me a beer, which I quickly accept. I need to drink away my misery. My gaze wanders through the room while I nearly empty my bottle in one gulp. We are sitting in a kind of circle. Pierre, me, George and Alex sit on the couch against the wall. On the left standing couch are Yuki, Seb, Lando and my teammate. On the huge beanbag next to Carlos is Lewis lounged with a glass of water. He definitely didn't got the message of getting drunk at Max's. On the floor, on the other side of the glass coffee table, sit Danny, Mick and Esteban.

"Yo Alexis! You got another beer?" Max asks as he places his empty bottle on the table, letting it chill with 15 empty ones and some not used shot glasses. I looked at the table two minutes ago, where nothing stood on it. How could they all drink that fast? Alex reaches into the mini fridge by his side and pulls out a new Heineken. Sure, Max only drinks Heineken. This freaking disgusting stuff. I will still use it to loose my depressing thoughts and that is something I swear to myself on this exact spot where I'm sat right now, which is probably also the spot my drunk ass will still sit in some hours.

Alex holds the beer over the table but is to short to reach Max extended hand, god how huge is this glass table and how expensive was it? Why do I even care. I take the bottle out of his hand and hold it out to the world champ. He finally can grab it, giving me a warm smile. I still have to get used to Max smiling at me. Still a very strange picture. You could ask yourself why he didn't stand up to grab the bottle from Alex... Yea... to my delight, which is meant completely sarcastic, he is trapped by Y/N.

She is sitting between him and Lance, letting her legs dangle down Max left thigh while resting against the Canadian. Latter one has his arm loosely around her shoulders while the back of her head rests against his shoulder. They look so familiar and cuddly. I mean I would like to be in his position or even in Max's, who has his hands resting on her thighs... on her bare thighs. Cause she is wearing some jeans shorts and an old Red Bull T, which is way to big for her cute, tiny statue. I assume it's from Seb but I don't freaking care because it's still from the Bulls.

Yea, I'm fucking jealous from everything around her. Be it Max with her legs over his thigh, Lance that is cuddled up with her or this fucking T-shirt that I would like to change into a red one or better into nothing.

"Maxie, you have a music box around?" Danny asks over the chattering. "Yea, over there, in the top drawer, is the little one!" Y/N answers before Max can even swallow the gulp of his beer. What? Why does she know that?! Was she ever here before? God, help me, please. Keep my tears at bay. I already cried today, so please not a second time and especially not in front of nearly the entire grid. My claim to say I cried because of the race is one thing but admitting that I fucking cry because the girl I fell for is together with my childhood enemy isn't really a good one. I swallow the other half of my beer and place the empty bottle onto the table, concentrating to keep my tears away. God, I'm one to pity.

"Where is Checo by the way?" I ask into the room to distract myself. "Celebrating with his family... didn't wanted to get drunk with us!" Carlos explains and holds up his beer to toast to us all. "When he isn't here then the next one in the winner row is you, Carlos... A toast for Carlito, every one!" Max cheers and holds up his beer. Since when is he so happy about 'loosing'. I mean, yea, he made P3 and was on the podium in fucking Monaco but he still didn't won. I think I never saw him this happy while not winning. I will just shoot myself. Not getting on podium at my freaking home race by one position, Y/N cuddling with two men from which neither one is me and Max who is so friendly and lovely that you could throw up about it.