GREENE | CS55

31 - Something To Say

Pierce's quickening pulse thrummed against the skin of her neck as she watched the slow stream of drivers, speckled in with friends, greeting their way into the bustling Monegasque nightclub.

An attempt at coolness, she continually nodded at the words Sydney directed to her, pretending that Pierce in fact wasn't the first one to notice. That would give away the fact that she'd been sweating in anticipation of Carlos' arrival, despite the air conditioning, surely working over-time in a place like this.

She tried to kid herself into thinking it wasn't her natural impulse signaling how nervous she really felt. That the pounding was from the bass reverberating from the nearest speaker. Her palm met the heartbeat in the part of her neck, her fingers kneading the top of her shoulder while she carefully studied the reaction on Sydney's face at the arrival they'd been waiting for since arriving twenty minutes ago.

But she wasn't worried. She couldn't be worried. Everything would be alright.

It was a big enough group to conceal the one person Pierce was the most excited to see after a longer seeming two weeks apart than usual.

The accent lights swirled above them in the otherwise darkened room, threatening to contort the group of drivers into the blur of people around them, if they weren't Formula One drivers in a club in Monaco, that is.

The worst part was the attention it all brought. Pierce was used to the public eye, but that didn't mean she liked being in it. Not one bit. She looked down into the depths of her glass, calling for reprieve. But the wrinkled lime, sapped of every last drop of juice, only floated at the bottom of the glass in less than an inch of watered down sparkling water. The only thing that could offer was awakening her gag reflex.

On the other hand, the best part of this whole group outing was the distribution of attention. It wasn't like Pierce and Carlos' usual situation, having to hide under ball caps with ridiculously large collared sweaters and glasses that made them ridiculously bug eyed, even at night. No, here, Pierce and Carlos could exist out in the open. Just like everyone else was.

Pierce urged her friends along to the bar beside her, giving them, Sydney in particular, what she craved. The guys had slightly dispersed, but that didn't wipe an inch of excitement off Sydneys face. Especially when her eyes laid on Max Verstappen.

She stilled for a moment, checking the lineup behind him for Carlos. For Lando. She could have sworn she'd just seen them—

"Well! Introduce us," Sydney's elbow prodded Pierce in the side, edging her forward. She took a glance at her friend, her most charming smile settled prettily across her features. "Officially."

Don't panic. Don't panic. "'Course. Yeah," Pierce cleared her throat, bridging the gap between the blonde and the Red Bull driver. Max pulled a face as Pierce tapped on his shoulder, his body pivoting to find White standing a hair too close. But his expression expertly shrunk away as his hand folded around hers, the two of them leaning in to better suit the introduction.

The circle around them grew with a plow of familiar faces— both from on the grid, and off it. Esteban with a tall blonde on his hip, who Pierce greeted with a polite wave as her eyes narrowed toward the darkness.

It was a wonder she'd missed them earlier. Carlos and Lando stuck out like sore thumbs, mostly because they were stood, facing her direction, just as eager to see Pierce as she clearly was to see them. She exclaimed a laugh in pleasant discovery, giving Ricciardo a pat on the back in response to his cheer, sending Hamilton a nod from the lounge area him and his friends had taken up with Ale and Tatianna at their tail, until she finally wrapped her arms around him.