"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
In a shift motion, Lance pushes me against the wall, his arms
"Princess," He murmurs, his voice low.
Normally this name enraged me in a different way, where normally there would be a hint of sexual tensions, but this time there was none of those.
"What is your problem? Is this really your only way of apologizing? Make-up sex? Absolutely not."
I try pushing him away, but Lance is still standing hovering over me, both his arms next to me and my back against the wall.
"I'm sorry," He whispers, his eyes fixed on mine.
"Sorry for what?" I stare back at him. Lance's gaze is hungry. Hungry for me. But I refuse to fold again in the heat of the moment. He was an asshole, and he should apologize adequately, "Use your fucking head sometimes, because you've been using your dick to think so much that you're becoming one."
Lance's intense gaze doesn't waver, but neither does my determination to stand my ground. His apology needs to be more than just a whisper and a poor attempt for make-up sex.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady the anger that's been racing within me since yesterday, "Sorry for what?" I repeat.
Lance lets out a frustrated sigh, and for a moment it looks like he might take a step back and give me some space.
"I am sorry for what I said yesterday, for the way I behaved towards you."
I nod, appreciating his words; but they also catch me off guard. It's rare to hear Lance apologize, and even rarer to hear him apologize genuinely, and I can't help but soften just a little bit. After all, I made mistakes too.
"Thank you, Lance," I say. "And I am sorry too. I should've told you everything, but I just wanted to wait until Christopher heard back from his client. I don't want to get my hopes up or yours."
Lance takes a step back, finally giving me some space, "We will figure it out, okay? Perhaps you can travel on a few Saturdays or they will give you a few days in which you can work from anywhere..."
"I am sure I can talk about it with them."
We give each other a soft smile, Lance nervously looking away before his gaze finds mine again.
"Does this mean you want to move in with me here?"
Playfully, I roll my eyes, "Of course. I would love to move in with you."
｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡
December 31st, London, United Kingdom
"Lando invited us for a New Year's party at his house in London," Lance says as he walks into the kitchen. "He's a driver for the McLaren team, and apparently he has invited all the drivers."
