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Oscar arrives at Isabella's hotel exactly fifteen minutes before Isabella steps out.
He sits behind the driver's wheel and contemplates what he should do, plans out a million possible outcomes for this interaction, and then two minutes before Isabella steps out, he gets out the car and regrets his outfit choice.
He only begins to think about how much better it would've been if he'd consulted his sisters to help his poor dressing sense, when Isabella steps out the large, golden gates of her hotel.
Oscar can't help himself but to stare. Isabella spots him immediately and smiles, wide and it feels like a hint of warm ray of sunshine after a long day of london's dreary raining. It's like that one little thing, just the tiniest action that improves his whole day, makes him look forward to life.
Her smile is radiant, and if he was a poet, he'd write endless sonnets about it, but he's only a formula 1 driver and all he can say is that her smile is more beautiful than the circuits of Monaco or Spa.
She rushes up to him, and he doesn't accept for her to hug him.
It hurts him to know he's lived so long without her embrace, and he holds her close, feels his heart race abnormally, as if it can sense hers, and is desperate to reach out and connect.
She lets go and Oscar has to pinch himself from reaching out and stopping her.
"Come on Pastry boy, let's go check out what Australian waves are all about."
