Love, Olive - c.l

one

Nerves.

I wasn't normally a nervous person, but however, this may be one of the most important nights of my life.

It is the twenty-fourth minute of the nineteenth hour, Thursday, the second day of March. I am in Bahrain. It is twenty degrees Celsius.

I was nervous.

On any other day, I was hyper.

Never nervous.

Except, I had travelled across the world on my own, from Melbourne, Australia, to Sakhir, Bahrain, which was terrifying.

I looked down at myself, dark brown hair lying on top of my shoulders, before walking inside a restaurant that a twenty-three-year-old should not be able to afford.

The floor was lined with royal blue carpets, and the walls white, with extravagant trims along the top and bottom. This restaurant was large. Very large and very fancy.

I walked down a small, yet wide corridor, my heels clinking slightly as I walked. I was turning many heads, and I could guess what they would be thinking when they saw me.

'How can she even afford this place?' 'How old is she, I wonder if she has a sugar daddy or not.'

The Latter probably thought less than the first, but I couldn't deny, I had been asked that before.

I walk up to the lady who is assigning tables for everyone, and she gives me a light smile.

"Hi there," I begin, "There should be a reservation under... Lewis Hamilton, I believe?" I ask.

She seemed shocked when I began speaking, potentially because of my thick Australian accent, or because I said I was with Lewis.

Lewis was a seven-time world champion after all.

"Yes, Of course." She politely replies, the shock having been erased from her face.

She looked to the couple walking in the same doors as I just come through, and faced me again.

"They are sitting at table 38, which is at the end of the corridor, then on the left." She says, beginning to look at the couple with the same smile she had given me seconds before.

"Thank you," I say to her, beginning to make my way.

"Hey, sweetie," She says, gently grabbing my wrist, "I think you will be great."

"Thank you," I repeat, my voice softer and lighter this time.

I turn around and make my way down the corridor she had pointed to. I had no idea who that lady was, but she managed to calm me down immediately. My hands were no longer shaking, and I could think more clearly than before.

She was a lifesaver, that was for sure.

I walk down the corridor, admiring the walls, with extravagant paintings and mirrors every so often. There was the same royal blue carpet leading down the centre, spanning across most of the width of the corridor.

On either side of the carpet was a white wooden floor, nicely painted, and not worn down. It gave a modern sort of edge to the whole restaurant.

I neared the end of the corridor, and I still had some nerves about me.

All I needed to do was find Oscar.

I had known Oscar for a long time. Having both been born in Melbourne, we were karting together, and when he got the 'go-ahead' to go into Formula Four a year before I did, I subsequently ended up with him in the British championship the next year.