𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐠; oscar piastri ✔

PART EIGHT

Word count; 2,363

Mirabella

— June 3rd, 2023. Barcelona, Spain.

Oscar and I shared the back seat of a car, weaving its way through streets and barriers, surrounded by fans bearing all sorts of colours. In a matter of moments we were ushered out, met with Veronica, holding onto a clipboard with various pieces of paperwork.

"Yours." She tossed a lanyard over my neck. "Also yours."

She turned to Oscar, immediately briefing him - chastising him - and he waved her away, leading us both through what I guessed was the paddock. Every movement seemed off by heart, his feet knowing exactly where to take him, where to find what. We turned down a hallway, stopping before a door labelled PIASTRI 81. Inside, it resembled that of a changing room, except with a small bathroom to the right and even a bed in the corner.

"This is my room." He narrated, shutting the door behind me. "You can stay here, if you like. No-one will bother you."

I nodded, "Can I leave my bag here?"

He smiled, also bobbing his head. "I think there's snacks in that drawer."

I followed where he gestured to, pulling open a drawer beside his bed, "Are these Australian?"

It was filled to the brim with various snacks, specifically a chocolate labelled Caramello Koalas.

"Lando thinks it's funny." Oscar answered. "Speaking of,"

I pivoted on my heels as he opened the door. Once again, he guided us down a hallway, then another, halting in front of a door titled NORRIS 4. Oscar knocked on the threshold, hesitating as if he'd walked in before knocking once, and ran in on something he wasn't supposed to.

After receiving a come in! Oscar opened the door, the culprit of the action lying on the bed, scrolling on his phone. At the sight of his teammate, he jumped up.

"You finally made it!" He clasped his hand, eyes drifting as they noticed me behind him.

Oscar followed Lando's gaze, directing a hand towards me, "Lando, this is Mira. Mira, this is Lando, my teammate."

"Bella's fine." I extended my palm.

Lando shook it, squinting at me inquisitively, "You're the one who stole Oscar's bed in Monaco."

Oscar rolled his eyes, changing the subject, "Shouldn't you be doing doing something more important than watching edits of yourself?"

"I wasn't watching edits of myself!" Lando dropped his jaw dramatically. "What were you about to do?"

"Hospitality?"

The words they exchanged fell over my ears, holding no meaning.

"That." Lando answered.

"That what?" Oscar raised a brow.

"That's what I was going to do."

Oscar rolled his eyes. At Hospitality, we found a table, Oscar disappearing to order us coffees. 

"I'm sorry, by the way."

Previously on my phone, my gaze darted upwards, met with that curly brown hair.

"For waking you up." He grinned. "I would've apologised earlier, but after making such noise Oscar refused to let me back into his hotel room."

I giggled a little, "He would do that."

He nodded in agreement, although another thought lit up in his mind: "Why weren't you at the GP in Monaco?"

Oscar returned, placing three disposable cups coffee onto the table, each steaming away.