THE END | Oscar Piastri

45. distance

Sav's pov

I didn't go to the next race. I told everyone it was because I had to go to more meetings. That was a lie. I stayed back so I could find a therapist.

My breaking point was when I almost kissed Oscar. I stayed up that entire night, tossing and turning in my bed, questioning if I wanted it to happen or not.

It only brought up an even more confusing question. Why had I allowed myself to like him again, after everything? I didn't know. It was just plain stupid.

I should've drank some more that night. Oscar did, and he passed out on the couch, too tired to move to the guest bed.

Lila was the one who tracked down a therapist for me. She didn't tell me exactly how she found him, or the process they went through for her to decide the guy was certified. All she told me was she trusted him.

The guy's name is Nash, his curly blonde hair was the first thing I took note of when I initially walked into his office. The second thing was the multiple family photos hanging on his walls. Two kids and a husband.

The first thirty minutes we spent getting familiar with each other. "I find that people are more willing to open up to me if they consider me a friend rather than just a shrink." He explained with a laugh.

Then he asked me to get comfortable, which I took as laying on my back on the long, grey couch.

I explained to him my dilemma from the very beginning. I told him about the breakup, why Oscar broke up with me. I told him about my relationship with Lando, and how that ended. I let him flip through my song book, and look at the most recent lyrics. And then I told him about how Oscar and I almost kissed.

"You like him, don't you?" Nash asks me. He tilts his head and narrows his eyes at me, as if he's trying to look right into my brain. I don't like it, so I turn to look at the ceiling.

I give him a one word answer. "Yes."

"But you don't know if you wanted to kiss him?" I think this guy has preloaded questions in his brain. I've never heard someone reply so fast.

It takes a moment longer for me to respond this time, but it's still the same word. "Yes."

"And why not?"

I take awhile to consider the question. I really hadn't thought about it, thinking that hard only made my head hurt. I turn his question over in my mind, staring down a small discolored spot on the ceiling. "I guess... I wanted him to but... I think I was afraid."

Nash gives off some sort of hum, sounding curious. "Afraid of... your feelings?" He guesses. The guess is partially correct.

"Kind of." He waits for me to continue. "I'm afraid of him hurting my feelings again."

"Mhm." He replies, a sound of understanding rather than intrigue or uninterest. The sound of a pen scribbling fills the silence. "Savannah do you- and don't take this offensively." I laugh at how he interrupts himself.

"Do you think that your feelings are simply you remembering what you used to feel for him?" Nash's questions continue to twist my brain.

My eyes are still on the discolored dot when I answer. "That could be a possibility."

More scribbling and silence. "I'm going to propose something." At his words, I turn my gaze back in his direction, tearing my eyes away from the bare ceiling.

"And I don't think you'll like it, but I think it'll be beneficial to you." He continues, causing a frown to contort my face. "Distance yourself for awhile. If you still like him, then you know it's not just remembering your relationship. If not..." He trails off, but I understand what he means.

I sit up on the couch, scooting to the edge. My hands lightly grip the cushions below me. "Okay." I answer with a nod.

A knock sounds at the door, his assistants head poking in. "Rowan is here." She says, slipping away right after and closing the door.

Nash has a small smile on his face when I turn back to him. "Ah well, it's my lunch break." He carefully closes his notebook and gingerly places is on the coffee table in front of us.

We stand at the same time. "I'll check in with you next week." He says, and I nod with a smile.

Out in the hall, I recognize the man waiting. Rowan, his name was, is the same guy in the pictures in Nash's office.

-★-

I'm sitting on my bed, a robe tied around my waist, my wet hair tied up in a towel, and a sheet mask covering my face while I scroll through instagram.

A call interrupts my mindless scrolling, the vibrations coming through before the contact pops up at the top. "Fucking hell." I whisper to myself. It's Oscar, of course it is.

I debate with myself over whether or not I should answer. 'Distance yourself'. Nash's words repeat themselves in the logical part my head. The other part of it, the emotional part, is telling me that a call isn't the same as seeing him in person. Both parts miss him.

The call rings all the way through. I missed his call. The logical part won by default.

He doesn't call again, and a message doesn't immediately come in.

Hey, call me when you get a minute? I think I forgot what your voice sounds like.

"Fucking hell." It's not a whisper this time, it's a full on yell. I wonder for a brief second if my neighbors heard it.

Sorry, I was in the shower.

It's not a total lie. I was in the shower, just not recently.

I call him, and he picks up on the first ring. "Well you look very flattering." He sarcastically comments.

Yeah, there's no way in hell I stand a chance trying to distance myself from him.

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A/N - updating three days in a row I'm just on x games