𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐠; oscar piastri ✔

PART TWENTY FOUR

Word count; 1,873

Mirabella

— August 10th, 2023. Near Marseille, French Riviera.

A steward approached the breakfast nook, "Two minutes."

I smiled, bobbing my head to her and closing the magazine I was reading. Across from me, Oscar chewed on his scrambled eggs, eyes still shut.

"I guess I will greet them." I flopped the magazine onto the table, standing up and wrapping my shawl tighter over my torso.

"I'm coming, I'm coming..." He said sleepily.

I touched his shoulder briefly as I walked by, descending the stairs that led to the boarding deck. Not far out, a speed boat divided the water, leaving a trail of white foam behind it.

Her name's Hannah, Oscar had said, and she's shy - the two most important pieces of information, to which I rolled my eyes. He showed me a photo of her then, one that Logan had taken; wavy blonde hair, long cheekbones, wearing heart-shaped sunglasses. He would've explained how her and Logan met, though he was too high at the time.

As the boat docked, Logan held her hand in assistance as she climbed out, though she snatched it away immediately after, clearly strained.

"It's nice to meet you." I said to her, as warmly as I could.

Logan hugged Oscar, then me - affectionate and brief, nothing more.

"Bella." He muttered.

"Good to see you." I said to his ear, pulling away. "Do you want to see your room?"

I had phrased the question towards Hannah, aware that Logan and Oscar may want their own moment together. She nodded discreetly. Sparing a glance at Oscar, I guided her inside, to the three guest bedrooms. I'd made sure to dedicate the one with the most natural light to her, hoping it would help.

"Do you own all of this?" Hannah asked from behind me.

I looked over my shoulder, somewhat taken off guard, and nodded with a smile. Turning a doorknob, I stepped aside, allowing her to absorb the room herself, find her bearings.

"There's a bathroom through there." I gestured to a door on the right. "Otherwise, there's not much cupboard space. Andréa - the Captain - had it all removed. Safety regulations."

She was nodding, yet the words still seemed foreign to her. It dawned on me how little we knew about each other, how overwhelming this must all appear.

"Do you want a drink?" I sought a new way forward.

She had put her suitcase near the bed, having insisted to carry it herself, instead of a steward. "Sure."

Back outside, the heat had built up around the deck, searing to the touch. Finding the short bar beneath the canopy, I searched under the counter.

"What would you like?"

"What do you have?" She countered with a short grin.

I appreciated the small amusement, "Practically everything. Apart from sambuca."

She raised a brow at the way I tittered, and understandably. It was a joke Oscar and I had rendered, how I could never be trusted around sambuca (and Max Verstappen).

She opted for a simple gin and tonic, which I poured with no precise expertise, alongside a pineapple juice and shot of vodka.

"It's going to be warm today." I made conversation.