SHAMELESS, lewis hamilton¹

20

Mirabella had driven her house guest back to his apartment complex before she headed back to her house and then back out again, crossing the border to France on her way to Nice Airport. It was around eleven in the morning when her plane took off on its way to Azerbaijan.

She arrived first at the hotel, getting a couple of hours' worth of peace before she was stuck with Hamilton again.

She had to admit that it was kind of strange being back in the hotel room instead of her home. She had gotten used to it, being stuck together with him in her house. That had been close enough quarters for her. And now they were back to sharing their hotel room. Which meant sharing the small kitchen area, the bathroom and the 'bedroom', if you can call it a bedroom.

Before Monaco, it was... fine. She just wasn't exactly comfortable with the whole situation. But now... now it was different. Things between them had changed.

When they were in Monaco they could at least go into separate rooms, but now they were actually stuck together. Their beds less than two meters away from each other.

Mirabella thought she could handle it, but the realisation that she couldn't escape him hit her like a ton of bricks. She didn't know how long she could last anymore before she snapped. The idea of that happening was horrifying in itself.

At least no one had messed up, since they still had separate beds. Thank god. If they had to share, she wasn't sure what she'd do.

Hamilton knocked on her door a couple of hours later. Mirabella was half surprised that nothing really happened that day. It always did with him.

Maybe he was tired.

She was probably right. Because the next day after all the debriefs and meetings, they had their bonding workouts—they had two every week and two on their own—and he was right back to his annoying self.

The days passed by, and now it was Friday and the Free Practices nearing as each minute passed. Mirabella had an extremely long day with the media. All the interviews and the press conference, then some solo stuff for Mercedes' admin.

It seemed like that reporter was kicked out, or something, because he wasn't in the sea of reporters anywhere. Maybe he had been banned from the paddock or something like that. The thought made her smile. If that was the case, then it meant someone had her back instead of turning an ignorant eye away like they usually had over the years she's been in the motorsport world. Her issues had never been taken seriously. She always heard that she was being dramatic and emotional. That everyone else could handle a couple of comments here and there. That it was just a part of it, and if she couldn't handle it then maybe she wasn't meant for racing.

But the boys were never asked the things she was. She remembers one time someone she raced with had gotten a somewhat personal question instead about his racing, as per usual, and he had complained about it. The reporter had been immediately banned and they never saw him again.

But when she did it, they never cared. Until now.

All of this still didn't mean that Mirabella wasn't tired after that day. She just wanted to sleep. But she still had her weekly face mask left. When she had done that, then she could finally go to sleep.

She walked towards the bathroom door and was about to open it when she remembered that there was currently someone in there. So, instead of just waltzing in, she knocked and after a short second, he pulled on the door handle, letting the door open slightly signalling that she could come inside.

She took a careful step inside, just in case. He was wearing shorts and nothing else. That was just amazing for her sanity. 

But she stopped abruptly, staring at what he was doing. He noticed, his hand freezing on his face as their eyes met, pausing rubbing in whatever type of face product he had been applying.