More, lewis hamilton

Chapter 9

They made a little room party after the race with the boys. Since they had two-weeks off they wanted to enjoy a decent night. Maybe, it would be better to go clubbing but they were also tired as fuck.

It was eight when she woke up, she tend to wake up earlier when she was drunk. She saw Carlos and Lando were sleeping on the couch while Max and Charles were on the floor and Alex was next to her. George left to sleep in his room at some point because there were too many people basically.

They had a flight to Monaco that afternoon, probably the flight was going to be all about whinning about headaches and that 'I will never drink that much again' sentences, which they were going to.

She washed her face and put something on to go to breakfast. She was waiting the elevator, and heard the ding sound. When she tried to get in the elevator, she saw Lewis in front of her. Due to his heavy breathing and the sweat drops on his forehead, she assumed that he was coming from the gym. Give a break man, she thought.

"Gym as a coping mechanism?" she asked before stepping in the elevator. "To cope with what?" his chest was moving up and down so quick, he had a rough morning in the gym but he wanted that.

"That you lost and I won," she smirked waiting for him to get out from the elevator but he didn't which made Alma's smile vanished.

"Next race, we will see about that Al." His voice sounded bold but his eyes looked so sweet. All this mas was doing giving mixed signals. His gaze was comforting her, calming the storms down and she felt safe. And she hated the fact she felt that way.

"Why are you looking me with those eyes?" she asked unintentionally. He stepped out of the elevator, standing right in front of her.

By that time, the doors of the elevator closed, which she was supposed to use to go to breakfast. She watched the doors, elevators and Lewis were such a disgusting mix this week.

"What do you mean?" he leaned his back to the wall, looking down on her. "Che cazzo, Lewis. I am trying to eat before I starve to death. I don't mean anything." She pressed the button again, "You don't say things, you don't mean Alma. Just tell me, how do I look at you?"

She turned on her heels to look at him, "Fuck this, I am using the stairs." She rushed to the stairs, knowing that he was smiling. But, she couldn't say 'You are looking at me as if you care and love me' and she knew how he looked at someone when he cared or loved. Because before everything went downhill, he was looking at her like that.

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As Alma settled into her seat on the private jet bound for Nice, she let out a sigh of relief. Somehow, the boys made it to the flight, and they were alive. Addition to their main group, Daniel and Max were also coming with them. Carlos reclined in a seat nearby, his eyes shielded behind dark sunglasses despite the dim interior of the jet. "Can we all collectively agree to never do that again?" he muttered, earning nods of agreement from those within earshot.

Charles, ever the optimist, chuckled softly. "Come on, it was a celebration. We deserved to let loose a little."

Lando, sprawled across a row of seats with a travel pillow around his neck, groaned dramatically. "I just want a lifetime supply of water and a bed that hugs me back." George, flipping through a magazine, chimed in, "Isn't that what Monaco is for? We can all hydrate and hibernate until the next race. Stop whinning."

Daniel, with a mischievous glint in his eye, leaned over to Alex, who was staring out the window with a stoic expression. "Thinking about last night, huh?"

Alex turned to him with a deadpan look. "I'm thinking about how I'm going to survive the flight without throwing up." Alma frowned "Dare to throw up next to me, I swear to God Alex, I will kick you out." Even thinking about vomiting made her gag, she tried to think something else.