Turbulence [𝗠.𝗩.]

Abu Dhabi, Post-Race

SPOTTED: Jessica Bond and Max Verstappen boarding a flight together, heading straight for Monaco. - @F1Gossip_Guru

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ABU DHABI
AFTER THE RACE
NOVEMBER

The sleek black countertops and floor-to-ceiling windows of the first-class lounge feel so strange to me. The spacious area, with plenty of luxury seating, is something I'm not at all used to. But as I sink into a cream leather sofa, I can understand why some people can never get enough of it. Here in the lounge, you're away from the rabble of people running for their gates, of families with parents trying so desperately to keep their children from having tantrums. It's almost peaceful.

If not for the rumbling of the ground and violent roaring of jet engines as planes take off and land nearby.

I would watch the planes while I wait, but I need to look at the messages from my accountant, who is more than certain that I can get everything done before the start of the next season. He thinks that with the people he knows, it can be done by January.

I'm not going to hold him to that. There's no need for it to be done and dusted super fast. I still have to choose a place, and as I look through the website he's sent me a link to, I don't know where to go. I can't talk to Charles or Daniel about it; they'll blab. I'll have to make the decision myself. Which feels terrifying, in a way that moving out of my parents' home didn't.

Oh well. I'll pick somewhere. Somewhere near, but not stupidly close. Just in case things go south. I'll at least want some space. It's only been...shit, it's been half a year. Yeah, I need to pick somewhere that isn't close enough to give off some kind of creepy stalker vibes.

My search is interrupted by WhatsApp messages.

Vershtoppan (Max);
Where are you? :(

Jahsica (Me);
In the lounge
You said we'd meet here?

Vershtoppan (Max);
I forgot

"I'm not surprised." I mumble to myself. I have no doubt that despite the strict laws here, he and the Red Bull team were partying all night. As they should, after a unicorn year like this. One they'll likely never repeat in our lifetime. Hell, we might not see any team repeat this success for a long time, if ever.

Returning to my search, I pick out a few places that seem reasonable and are within the budget I've been given. Either way, I'll be looking at one hell of a loan. But I'd rather buy the place outright. With my decisions sort of made, I rifle through the various group chats. Sebastian's asking people to get home safely. James is complaining about hanging around for the post-season testing.

I burn more time by mindlessly scrolling through social media, waiting for Max to get to the airport finally; when I hear him calling my name, he looks very hungover. The dark circles under his eyes and the mild redness around them are a dead giveaway.

"So, just how drunk is Daniel?" I ask, lowering my voice because I don't want to make the headache he likely has worse. But I am feeling smug about it. I knew they'd be drinking. Mick owes me fifty quid.

Max drops onto the sofa, sighing heavily. His black carry-on bag goes to his left, and he looks like he'd rather sleep than be getting on a plane. "He's missed his flight."

I'm cackling at that, as Max winces, pressing a hand to his forehead. I should feel bad, but honestly, this is hilarious to me. I fire off a text to Daniel, sarcastically asking him if he's at the airport yet. I don't get a reply, but I know he's seen it, by the little blue ticks.

"Well, good thing you haven't missed yours. I don't have keys to your place." That gets a smile from him. I shuffle up to him; his right arm goes around my shoulders, and although it hurts, I lean against him, resting my head on his shoulder. "Mum says she wants you at Christmas dinner. It's kind of non-negotiable."

"Better than my plans."

I tilt my head, curious.

"I was going to order a kebab."

I'm laughing again because of course he'd do that. "You know, I think mum might murder you if you ask her to get you one for Christmas dinner. She'd be super offended. I mean, if Dad was cooking, I'd get it. We all dread when it's dad's year to cook."

"The barbecue wasn't bad."

"Because that's the only thing dad can do well. Don't ask him to cook anything normally. He's going to either burn it or set the fire alarms off. Or both."

A chuckle rumbles through his chest at the same time as the building does - a large BA-emblazoned plane speeds past as it takes off. A voice comes over the intercom to announce a gate is opening for a flight to Nice. That's our flight. We're up and moving automatically. Max takes my carry-on bag from me so that I can be on his left side - and he can hold my right hand.

"I might've lied to Liam again and said I was going home."

He grins, huffing out a breathy laugh. "At least Charles won't be around to interrupt us."

"Oh, I have no doubt he'll hop on the first flight back because he thinks it's the absolute peak of comedy to do it." I squeeze his hand, and he does the same back at me, his face flushing ever so slightly with a deep pink hue.

Out of the corner of my eyes, as we walk through the wide hallways of the airport, I see someone trying - and failing - to take a sneaky shot of us as we walk hand-in-hand.

"Charles is gonna know now. So is Liam." I mumble to him over the sound of the intercom going again. I jab a free thumb in the direction of the person - a young lady who knows we've spotted her.

Max's answer is wordless; I'm pulled against him for a brief kiss. I can feel the smile on his lips; see it as we part and resume walking to our gate. Around us, the world becomes irrelevant as we walk, heading off for a well-deserved break.

And yet, I cannot wait for the start of next year's season.