Away we go

4-England

God is really smiling on us.

After my great weekend with Lance, he surprised me by telling me that his next thing is scheduled in Silverstone which means we fly together. This is technically our third date but it feels like we know everything about each other.

I live in Knightsbridge which is around an hour and a half drive to Silverstone. Lance is still in dilemma about whether he should move closer to Silverstone after thursday because that's when the race takes place.

Even though he is here till the races begin, we only have nights to ourselves because work starts the minute, sorry, the second I set foot in my home.

Given how I choose to decorate my home, a small apartment in allegedly one of  London's posh space, I like to think I have some talent in interior designing as well.

I have built this home piece by peice, bargaining around the world for things I now possess. It's immaculate, efficient and cozy all the same. Only problem right now is my neighbors. They seem to be digging their way to Mars. I hope they lose their way back.

I put my head in my hands. "Christ! They ought to have something constructed every two months."

"Don't worry about it. It's perfect." His arm is secured around my waist in a side hug or hand in hand kinda way. A languid smile stretches across his mouth as I give him the tour of the house. He is tired. We both are. We took an early morning flight here so naturally we have got no sleep.

"And this is the bedroom. My bed is really comfy, its like sleeping in the clouds."

He pushes his bottom lip out. "I'm really tired."

My gaze drop briefly to his mouth and I plant a kiss there. He plops himself on the bed and I take all the decoration cushions away to give him all the space he needs.

As much as I want to lay down next to him, I can't. Sleeping next to Lance in my bed is a happy balloon that monday is eager to prick like a needle. So I make my way to the kitchen to prepare some brain fuel for me. AKA coffee.

Before leaving for work, I go to check on Lance, leaving him a note about breakfast and spare keys. He is still fast asleep, lightly snoring. I massage his creased forehead gently to soften his frown. His magical lashes makes me jealous and makes him look majestic paired with his now tanned skin. He's got that Barcelona glow in place. I don't know how I ended up this close to him that he is now in my bedroom, sleeping. This is our third date for crying out loud.

Cursing some more at the work days and wishing how I will literally pay aliens to abduct me right now, I take a cab to work. Like the quotes on pinterest say The recipe to success isn't motivation. Its discipline. And discipline is a bitch.

Work is hectic, for the lack of better word, when it's in the headquarters. And today seems messier than usual. Lots of hollering and irritated voices all around. My boss looks like he is one traumatic event away from a face tattoo. He is challenging everyone, daring them to fuck up so he can kick their asses out.

Stephan slams the cabin door shut behind him, as he walks in my office. "Do you wanna run me over? I'll give you gas money."

"What's wrong?"

"Eight people have called in sick from various departments. I'm stuck with food and nutrition. The hell am I supposed to know about that, we have to prepare for the Djibouti summit."

Before I can process that information, Scott barged into the office apparently having no decency to knock. The headquarter is an architectural marvel and the offices are tastefully designed with glass walls so everyone can practically see everyone even though they can't hear each other.