CHECKERED FLAG - c.l [2]

Checkered flag

Cinema dates.

Like, going to the movies, picking out popcorn and sharing a drink, holding hands and hushed whispers at the back of the theatre, laughing when someone turned to tell us to be quiet.

Running across the road with a denim jacket above our heads because we had forgotten to check the weather and it was down pouring.

Holding the sides of my face with his clammy hands, staring into my eyes like there was no one else in the world that mattered, our chests merely missing each other's as we breathed in sync, exchanging oxygen like there wasn't enough to share.

Speckles of rain traced down the side of his face, sweat maybe? I reached to touch one, he watched my every move, his thumb caressing my cheek gently, soothing me.

"Every time I look at you," he whispers, the sound of a car splashing into a puddle behind us, makes us laugh for a moment, giggling like school kids, "it's like I'm seeing you for the first time all over again."

I lean into his hand on my face, gripping onto his wrist to savour every second of this moment.

For some reason, I knew it wasn't going to get any better than this.

He sweeps the hair sticking to my forehead away, behind my ear, leaning down as he does so to trace his lips along mine, our skin creating friction as we tease each other under the streetlights, hidden down the side of a small alleyway.

"I love you."

He kisses the palms of my hands, holding them to his mouth as he presses his forehead against mine, closing his eyes.

Mine were wide open.

Three words, eight letters, two syllables.

It was a foreign statement to hear, he had said it a few times, but the one that suck out the most, when he begged me to stay, for his forgiveness in the States last season. Everyone watching us as he clenched onto my hand.

I stumble back out of his hold, turning away from him before I allowed myself to believe those three words again.

I wasn't ready. Not for this, not for him, for us. I wasn't ready for any of it.

"We should get going, we have a flight in the morning," I try to break the heaviness of the air in my throat that wouldn't go down as I check my phone for the time, looking anywhere else other than his eyes.

It went on like this for a while – Charles pushing me for more, my feelings, thoughts.

Max and I were going back and forth on the championship, and although what happened in Silverstone, it had become a healthy competition, he dropped the law suit after a very long and tedious meeting with only lawyers, Toto, Christian, him and myself present.

We were shut into a room with an FIA member who gave us both very stern warnings and a pretty hefty fine to go along with the crash from Silverstone and the punch I had given him.

Every weekend it was either Max or I on the podium with only a point between us at times. I was working my ass off, eating better, healthier, making sure I was concentrating.

The only thing I was here to do was win, for my dad.

"Oh come on Mads, just have one night out with us, it's been months," Dee groaned, following me around the hotel room of Las Vegas.

I was slipping my running shoes on, tying up my laces as I looked up at her, her hands on her hips with an eyebrow raised waiting for me to reply.

I shrug my shoulders, "sorry Dee," I gave her a tight smile as I put my air pods in, walking past her and out the hotel room door.