THE END | Oscar Piastri

43. conflicted

Sav's pov

A bright orange, slightly oversized, jersey with the word 'McLaren' in bold blue letters on the front. On the back is his number, 81, also done in blue, and it takes up most of the back of the jersey. Above that is the words 'Piastri' in all capital, bold, blue letters.

That's what I chose to wear to the Australian Grand Prix.

Well, not just that. The jersey was like a baseball jersey, so it had buttons all down the front of it that were undone. Beneath it was a plain, tight, white shirt. The outfit was completed with a pair of loose blue jeans.

I hadn't gone to Singapore. I was in Miami for meetings, and was trying to write some songs. I wasn't all that successful. My mind kept wandering to Oscar. I flew in last night.

"Where did you even find this?" He laughs, his face dusting in a light shade of pink. Had I embarrassed him? It wasn't my intention. "My mom got it for me, I think it was custom made."

He grabs onto the sleeve, rubbing it between his fingers to feel the material. He gives a content hum, and nods his head. "Do you not like it? Cause I can-" I go to take the shirt off, intending to hide it in my bag for the rest of the day, but his hand clasps over mine, stopping me from doing so.

"No, keep it on. I think it looks good on you." He says this with a soft voice. I stare at his hand as he talks. Swallowing thickly, I look back up at him. "Okay." My voice is just above a whisper.

Someone calls Oscar's name from behind me. My eyes stay on him as he locates the person. His hand is still clinging onto mine. I don't even hear what the other person says, or what he responds with.

"I'll see you after the race?" He looks at me with a new smile on his face. "Yeah." I nod repeated, like the motion was out of my control.

His lips thin and his tongue darts between them, the action is oddly attractive. I audibly chuckle at the realization. He laughs too, probably caused by mine. To him, it would've seen random.

His thumb runs over my knuckles as he drops my hand. He disappears from my line of sight, leaving me staring at the orange wall ahead.

-★-

I sat in his drivers room for awhile, waiting for him. Winning your home race comes with so many more interviews.

I got so bored I started wandering around the paddock, taking pictures with anyone who asked and stopping for a short interview with Will Buxton and Jack Doohan.

I found Max scrolling through his phone right outside Red Bull's hospitality. "Now who's rotting their brain?" I repeat his words from months earlier. He looks up with a confused look on his face. It quickly turns amused.

"You've lost your shadows." He quips, changing the subject while referencing Logan and Oscar. I'm rarely not by one of their sides. "Oh haha." I laugh sarcastically. "They're both in the media pen or wherever." I take a seat on the steps.

"You going to this party?" I didn't know what he was talking about, which was definitely evident by my expression because he explains, "Lando's all told us to turn up to this club tonight. Supposedly he's going to be dj-ing." I take it into consideration before shrugging with a hum. "I'll ask Oscar about it."

The corner of his mouth twitches. "What's going on between you two?" His question makes me groan, throwing my head into my lap. "Why does everyone think something is going on?" The skin of my legs asks as a sound barrier, making my voice muffled. "Every time I see you guys, you're flirting."