Oscar:
I dont drink. Let me rephrase that. I don't usually turn to drink. But it felt like the only option today. Im back to the MTC on monday and im dreading it. Dont get me wrong, i love the team, and Lando has been as welcoming as id hope for but... its just not what i expected. I signed for Mclaren with the hopes of a championship winning car, a car and team that can make my debut in f1 a memorable one. The season hasnt even started and i'm doubting them. Testing and sim has been horrendous, and i know its not me. You dont just win F3 and F2 with luck. So forgive me when i go to a club to get a drink.
Its been peaceful just wallowing in my self-pity and dread, fuelled by my constant supply of beer and cider. And when i decide to leave and finally head home, this woman walks into me and splashes her drink everywhere. She's clearly drunk and it takes her a while to notice me, and when she does she gives me the darkest evils i've seen. But I almost don't notice them because im too taken aback by her face, her beautiful face. No, it's the alcohol. A respectable woman wouldn't walk into someone and glare at them as if they were in the wrong.
"What the fuck was that for?" she sneers at me, her voice strong with her British accent.
I try not to get involved, just walk away again, but something tells me i should stay, or maybe it's just that she's pissed me off when i'm already pissed off and i finally have an outlet, so I stay.
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When she places her heeled foot, soaked by vodka, 5cm away from my crotch i question if it was the smartest idea. This woman is crazy, and also pissing me off more. She wants me to apologise for something that was entirely her fault. I cant help but notice the way her hands lightly unclasp the straps on her heels, and the way she lightly drops them onto the floor. Carefully. Delicately. I'm pulled out of my trance when she stares at me like she knows what I'm thinking.
"You're a cunt you know that?" she states bluntly
"Seems we have something in common." i smirk at her
I watch as her smile drops a little, and almost apologise before she is whisked away by someone into the crowd again.
I wait a little longer, to try and chill myself down before i try and exit again when I nearly trip over something. Her fucking shoes. I check my watch, its been nearly an hour since she ran away, and these shoes are clearly expensive. So i pick them up and take them with me. I don't know why i do it. It might be to spite her by making her think someone stole them to re-sell or something. But it might also be because I hope to see her again, because maybe I feel a little bad about projecting my anger onto her. For whatever reason it is, i'm just going to blame it on the alcohol currently coursing through me, as that is much less scarier than admitting that her eyes were the prettiest shade of green ive ever seen.
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I get home and I'm still gripping the shoes in my hand. I don't know what to do with them, I hadn't thought this far. Why the fuck did I take them?
"What the fuck am I doing?" I whisper to myself, left hand massaging my temples.
So I just chuck them on the floor and start undressing, plugging my phone in and collapsing on my bed. A problem for a more awake and sober Oscar.
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The glare from my open blinds wakes me. I turn over and check my phone. 8:24am. Perfect. I try and lay there, an attempt to go back to sleep before I have to get up early for training every day, but to no avail. I give up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Almost instantly my eyes catch on the red heels tossed haphazardly on my bedroom floor. Fuck.
"Great, thanks Oscar." I grumble to myself, poking my tongue into my cheek. A habit I usually catch myself doing.
I stare at them for another few minutes, almost willing them to vanish. When they don't I huff and walk over to them, picking them up and chucking them to the back of my wardrobe. I promise I'll take them back to the club when I can, but I probably won't.
—
I'm brushing my teeth before I get a notification on my phone from Lando. Odd that he's messaging me when we see each other tomorrow, so it must be important.
Lando
Morning mate, Zach said to tell you that we need to be at the MTC earlier than usual tomorrow.
And he made you tell me this?
Yes?
K.
Did he say why?
Just that he's got some new people to show around.
And I've got a new media person.
I hope they don't make me do anything weird.
Sure, tell him I'll be there
What time?
8am
Really? Ffs, okay fine. See you tomorrow
Yeah ik mate, ruined my morning plans.
See you tomorrow
—
It's not a massive change, but now I need to get up 1 hour earlier so I can get there on time. The MTC is in Woking and I'm currently a 45 minute drive away, depending on London traffic. So I'm gonna be fucked. I have no plans today so I'll probably go to the gym for a bit then just chill in my flat. I hope tomorrow is better than this weekend.
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Word count: 975
Authors note:
ahhhhh Oscar's POV. I was really considering just doing Eliana's pov but I'm glad I chose dual pov, I think it can add so much more to it!!
What is he gonna do with her shoes 👀?
Adiós, Freya x
YOU ARE READING
Cropped out - an Oscar Piastri x OC fic
RomanceEliana is an aspiring photographer, having worked in low-level marketing and media jobs she finally found her place in f1. That is until she meets someone and ends up on the wrong foot. Their tension must snap at some point. The question is when.
