𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐠; oscar piastri ✔

PART TWELVE

Figured I had to address the elephant in the room: oscar is an introvert and hates clubbing

Word count; 2,360

Mirabella

Once again, I found myself at the bar, pouring endless shots of sambuca into the back of my mouth, encouraging the man beside me.

"I don't think I can." Max pressed his fingers to his lips, keeping down the only inclination his body knew after drinking copious amounts of alcohol.

We had four lined up in front of us, taking turns. With only two left on my part, I chugged them each, coughing into my arm at the taste. I buried my head into my palms, leaning on the countertop of the bar.

"Oh my god." He muttered.

I looked at him, though with the lights behind him and the noise surrounding us, my gaze succumbed to a blur, blending everything in front of me together. He did as I had, drinking each of his shots and slamming them back onto the counter. I cheered playfully.

He glanced around, chest heaving, trying to focus on something else, anything else. I imagined Kelly finding his arm, dragging him to the bathroom - something neither of us had addressed since it happened in Barcelona, instead sitting in that awkward knowledge between us - but she was no-where to be seen, spending the evening with Penelope.

Max waved over the bartender, asking for four more shots and I darted towards him, already feeling the puke rising in my throat. He spared me a glare, a cheeky shrug - we were both as competitive as each other.

"Mira!"

The voice had said the word numerous times, though I only registered it after the first two.

"Hello." I responded giddily, smelling the liqueur on him.

Oscar's eyes flickered between my eyes and lips, his chest almost close enough to touch my back. I would've kissed him, and I'm sure he would've kissed me, if it weren't for Max. There was something reviving at the thought, even more emphasised by the booze; the concept of being caught.

"I leave you alone for ten minutes, huh?" Oscar remarked, referencing the shots.

"She wasn't alone!" Max hiccuped.

"Yeah, I wasn't alone." I agreed, glowering at him like a child would their parent.

The shots arrived, and Oscar leaned over me, reaching for one and swallowing it whole before anyone could argue. Max scowled at him, only to realise the next three shots had to be divided between the two of us - another competition. We each downed one, ready to fight from the next, when once again Oscar's hand appeared, stealing it from the both of us.

"No fair!" Max dropped his jaw dramatically.

"Sorry mate." He smirked, putting the glass back on the counter. "Logan's heading off. I was going to as well."

"Okay." I nodded, understanding the meaning of his sentence. "A second." 

He bobbed his head with a soft smile, discreetly pressing a hand to my back before vanishing back into the crowd.

"Sorry." I stuck a thumb over my shoulder. "He's my ride."

It was a blatant lie; both of us had walked to the club, knowing we wouldn't be sober enough to drive back.

Max tutted, "What am I supposed to do now?"

"Go admire your trophies?" I jested. "I don't know."