𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ~ | 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯

Taste Of Us

~'~

I missed my flight.

And before you say anything, yes my flight. I don't always travel in a private jet. Of course, I could if I want to, because being a Red Bull driver I could afford to.

But I didn't like it.

It made me feel like a snob. Me. I'm not talking about what other rich people feel like or what they are, this is not an attack. I simply just prefer to have a normal person flight.

Another amazing bonus is getting on the flight and seeing someones eyes widen in awe when they recognize me. I'll do something like go over to the and see if they would swap their peanuts for my chocolate or something like that. It makes for a good story, and its interesting.

Now back to what I was saying before I got distracted. I swear it doesn't happen that often. Okay maybe sometimes. Like that one time I was I got pulled over because-

Just kidding.

You may have thought that my own wins would be the best part of my year, but no. It was his. Lando had worked so hard, so long to achieve this and now tht he finally had, I felt an overwhelming sense of pride and happiness for him.

I was so lucky that I got to see him almost every other weekend at work, and even more in between. Not many people work alongside their best friend, so I felt incredibly lucky.

Safe to say, that night almost all of us had gone out to celebrate. But you know us, we are very mild, indoorsy people. We don't like a lot of fuss. We had a nice quiet dinner and went to bed early.

The splitting headache the next morning made that lie harder to pull off.

The others however, were slightly more responsible than me and most of them shared a jet, since most of them lived in Monaco. So I was left all on my ownly lonely.

Or at least so I naively thought.

I spent the day doing nothing. Just the way I liked it. No people, no responsibilities, no fresh air. Just me and Harry. That's what I called my hangover.

It was about ten pm when I realized I had eaten barley anything all day. Now normally, I would shrug my shoulder and say 'ah well, she'll be aight' and that would be that. I was used to not eating. That's not a good thing is it?

However, tonight, the lovely son of a bitch called fate decided to switch it up.

I had just thrown the covers of my nice warm bed over me, just gotten into the perfect sleeping position, when there was a knock at the door.

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of who it could be. No one else had planned to visit me tonight. But when I opened the door, I found myself face to face with none other than Max.

"What are you doing here?" I blurted out, half-surprised, half-I don't think this emotion has a name.

He grinned. "Well, I was planning to stand here looking mysterious, but that doesn't seem to have the effect I was hoping for."

"Nope. Definitely not." I concurred.

He looked around the room for a moment before meeting my gaze again. "So... you eat yet?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Not exactly, no. Why?"

He smirked and held up a bag with a familiar logo on it. "Good. I brought food."

"Food?" I echoed, a little confused.

He brought me food?

"Yeah. It goes in your mouth. Very nice stuff."