𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ~ | 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯

037 || Talk to me

The week did not go the way I had planned. After a bad quali, ending up in P9 for the race, I had been bombarded with sexist comments and questions about my performance. 

All I wanted to do was go back to my hotel room and hide, but then Max would be there and we would fight. Because that was all we could do nowadays.

He was gone most of the time anyway. He would come back just to have a shower and change, then leave. I didn't know where he went, but he would come back after I had gone to sleep. Sometimes I thought I heard him in the room, but I didn't dwell on it. 

I hated to admit that I wanted him there. Even if we were going to fight...

The race went a little better, earning me a decent P5. It was also a small victory that I had done better than Max. He had finished P7. I wasn't sure what it was with him this weekend. He was usually so focused and efficient, but today he was distracted.

I was also pleased because of who won. So did Max. A couple days ago, Esteban had fallen sick, so Alpine's reserve driver stepped up. 

Lily had been incredible. She quialified on pole with an insane lap and faught with Lewis and Carlos the whole way through, but still emerged on top.

After the race, I congratulated her. Well, tried to before she was bombarded by her family. Max lifted her up onto his shoulders like she was nothing as they all cheered. I was truly happy for her. I remembered my first win...

After finally making Bea happy by doing all of my interviews, I was finally allowed to head back to the hotel. Max was already there when I got to the room. I knew he was going out again. He was wearing an open white buttoned shirt and some loose jeans. He was sitting on the arm of the couch. I closed the door behind me, making him look up.

"Hey," he said simply before turning back to what he was doing.

"Hey," I replied, still standing in the doorway. I didn't know what to say, but I couldn't stand the silence. "So, where are you going tonight?" I tried.

"Out." He replied, his expression unreadable.

"Who with?" I asked him. I just wanted him to talk to me. He barely looks at me anymore.

"People." He said it again in the same tone. "I thought I told you not to care." He looked up at me. 

"I was just trying to talk to you." I said, my voice a little more quiet than I had meant it to be. He glanced up at me, his eyes betraying just a flash of sorrow before quickly turning hard again.

"Well, don't. It's better if we just try and get through this without talking." He muttered, looking away again. My eyes trailed to his exposed chest as he began to fiddle with his buttons.

"But I want to talk." I said I was walking towards him. He didn't look up.

"Then talk to someone who cares. You have friends, right?" He replied coldly. I pursed my lips. Why was he being like this?

"I happen to want to talk to you." I wasn't about to give up.

"Well, I don't want to talk to you." He focused on his buttons, his voice curt. That stung. His fingers were fumbling, and he had buttoned them all wrong. "What the fuck is wrong with this shirt?" He yelled in frustration.

"Nothing is wrong with it, you muppet." I rolled my eyes, stepping closer to him. 

"Here..." I reached out and gently unbuttoned the shirt. He didn't move, but his eyes burned into my face. I concentrated on what I was doing.

My fingers brushed against his skin, and butterflies fluttered in my chest. He still didn't say a word. Finally, I finished the last button and stepped back. He glanced down. There was another long silence.