𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐠; oscar piastri ✔

PART TWENTY

Word count; 2,650

Mirabella

— July 27th, 2023. Stavelot, Belgium.

It was the first time since Monaco that we had shared a hotel room together with only one bed. Oscar had requested it during the penultimate breakfast in Budapest, when Veronica arrived with her classic remarks and rebukes, taking a seat with her usual huff. I hadn't expected him to, forgetting the matter completely, and nearly choked on my yoghurt and oats, Veronica looking between the both of us in shock.

"Did you hear me?" He had said, purposefully, wanting to rub it in.

She said she would make the arrangements. When she left, carrying that contempt away, I glared at him, knowing he was cherishing the situation; the look on her face, what his words had meant.

I regarded the mirror of the vanity table, Oscar lying on the bed behind me, scrolling on his phone. Searching through my bag of makeup, I selected two lip liners, holding them up.

"Terracotta or caramel?"

He looked up from his screen and, despite not knowing the difference, answered, "Terracotta."

I smiled, dropping the other back into the bag. I was in the process of preparing for the shoot with Kelly, which we had agreed to back in Silverstone. I hadn't thought twice about why I had accepted the offer in the first place.

Oscar began to hum as I applied the liner, and I glanced at him in the reflection, beaming. Except, my cheeks flushed slightly, recognising the tune.

No, I won't be afraid...

Oh, I won't be afraid...

"Just as long," I sang quietly, still focusing on him. "As you stand, stand by me..."

He grinned, bellowing the next lyrics as dramatically as he could, "So darlin', darlin'!"

I chuckled, singing along with him in the same manner, overexaggerating the words. Naturally, we concluded, bursting into giggles, and I finished with my makeup, heading for the cupboard.

"Dark green." He councelled, sensing it wouldn't be long before I asked him, unable to decide myself.

I scowled at him playfully, pulling out the shirt and tossing it onto the bed, alongside some jeans and stilettos; simple yet put together. Shutting the cupboard doors, he glanced at me.

"Close your eyes." I glowered.

He raised a brow sarcastically. I prompted mine in return, meaning, what?

"You're acting like I've never seen you naked before."

"And?" I shrugged. "Close them."

He did as I said, dropping his phone onto the mattress theatrically, slapping his hands over his eyes. I slipped out of my shirt - his shirt, seized from the floor when I woke up - and my shorts. Satisfied, I told him to open. His lips curled warmly.

"So?" I simpered. "What do you think?"

"Give me a spin."

I obliged, knowing this was a part of the game.

"Perfect."

I grinned, approaching the bed as he sat up.

"What time will you be back?" He asked.

"Three?" I said. "Something like that. You?"

"Five. At least, I hope so. Do you want to go out for dinner?"