VIPER || Oscar Piastri

Chapter 30

[POV: Andreanna Saunterre]

To some, tranquility is peace, quiet, calm weather and a good book. To me, tranquility came in the form of a good breakfast. If I were to be more specific, tranquility to me is a warm, home-cooked breakfast, eaten in comfy attire in front of the television, alone, watching a quiet programme and knowing there was nothing else to do that day.

Today, I am sat in a busy canteen filled with noisy people, eating a cold, stale pastry in 'work-appropriate' clothing, knowing that I had a whole day of pretending ahead of me.

At least I'm not being bothered, I thought.

And then my dad caught sight of me, which put an end to that.

I knew what conversation was afoot, since he'd for-warned me that morning that he'd "have a chat" with me about how my trip to the bike meet went. I'd already prepared a speech about how it was really lovely (his favourite word), how myself and Oscar had had a lovely time, and how the show itself was probably the loveliest one I'd been to in a while.

So, I prepared myself to sell. I felt like an aspiring entrepreneur, about to pitch my new bright idea to a potential client and convince them that my bright idea was the brightest of all the bright ideas, and that they could not find a brighter idea if they tried.

"How was the trip?" My father asked, as he said he would. "I want to hear all about it!"

I straightened my posture, put on a smile and began my pitch. "Oh, yes! It was—"

"From Oscar."

The potential client has just laughed in my face and dismissed my proposal with a casual "not interested" before even hearing the full pitch.

"...What?" I said, not sure if I'd heard him right. I knew I had, of course. But maybe my 'what?' would give him the chance to rephrase, and make it sound less like he couldn't give two shits about how his daughter's trip was. That was for her, remember.

"I want Oscar to tell me." He insisted.

Nope, nevermind then.

Putting aside my offence, I thinned my lips and tilted my head at him. "Well," I said, placing my hands in the back pockets of my trousers, "as he's currently driving at 200mph in an F1 car, it might be a little difficult for you to get in contact with him. Unless you can run fast, of course. If you wear some sort of parachute and use the wind to your advantage you might be able to catch up with him—"

"My goodness Andreanna! You don't always have to be so literal!" He snapped, still not seeing anything wrong with his dismissal of me. "I want to hear from him and you, of course! What's so wrong with that? I know you had a good time—don't forget that I was the one to take you to countless other bike meets myself when you were younger. I just want to know if he had a good time too." He said.

I looked at him critically. "And why wouldn't he have had a good time? Are you saying I'm—

"Don't try that," he said, tilting his head and giving me a knowing look. "If you had to choose, it'd be bike over boyfriend every time. Tell me I'm wrong."

I gave him a 'what? that's ridiculous' look. But we both knew he was right. Then, off he walked without a care in the world, yelling "Find me later!" and waving at me.

Sometimes, I envied his bluntness. But then I remember that it is in fact the same bluntness that I have in me, and then I don't care much for it anymore.

*

While the Azerbaijan GP went ahead, I kicked my feet up. For the first few races of the season, I'd watched them up-close. But now, I much rather distancing myself from the hustle of the track and watching the race on a television in the corner of the garage. That way, I was out of the way; I could chit-chat with some of the mechanics I'd become friendly with, and watch them nervously monitor the race whilst I threw sarcastic —clearly unserious— comments at them, like: 'Don't worry, there's only 50 laps to go!'

But, when the race ended, I always did the same thing. I escaped the Ferrari garage; I went elsewhere, did other things. Out of sight. Out of sight of him.

But today, I was going to stay. I wasn't going to go elsewhere and do other things; I was going to make sure I was in view. In view of him; so that he'd see me, I'd see him, and he'd see me see him. I wasn't going to hide, because why should I? I know him, he knows me, we know us. Whatever that means. Hopefully it'll mean the same to him as it does to me.

Maybe it's a daft idea, I thought. But it's the best I've got, and daftness has kept me going so far, so why stop now?

And when the time came, I did just that.

I stayed in the Ferrari garage until the race was over, and waited until the drivers started to get out of their cars to step outside the garage into the pit lane.

A few of the drivers gave me a small nod and a smile as they passed by, some shaking my hand as I congratulated them. One, and only one, made me run through our much too long handshake that we made years ago while some watched on in amusement at the dramatic nature of it. You can probably guess who.

And then I spotted Charles. I didn't falter; I looked straight at him as he walked towards me. He didn't spot me until he was a few feet away, and I'd half expected him to at least smile at me. I didn't anticipate he'd engage in a conversation with me, and even if he did, it'd probably be a short one with a sly dig in there somewhere.

But when he approached me, an expression mixed with happiness and shock adorned his face. He hadn't expected to see me there. Was he happy? He looked happy, I thought. He smiled widely at me and held out both of his hands in front of him. I knew what that meant, and he knew that I knew what to do. I couldn't help but smile; he remembered. When he was close enough, I slapped his hands with mine in celebration and laughed at the silly gesture. It was the same gesture that him and I traditionally did after every race; be it one of his or mine.

He'd come third in the race, so it was no wonder he was happy. I congratulated him, he thanked me, and then went on to rejoin his team out in the crowd.

It was a small exchange, but to me, it meant a whole lot more. I felt exhilarated; it was the first time him and I had had a proper, nice, exchange in a long time. And yes, that's completely my fault, but that's besides the point.

Only after I'd forcibly shaken off the smile on my face did I pick up on the fact that Oscar hadn't passed by me. I looked around to find him, he'd be around here somewhere. When I spotted him, I sighed. He was with Lando, Carlos and Max.

I wasn't yet over my (I admit, petty) annoyance at two of them. So I postponed going over for a while.

I don't know how he managed that, I thought, recalling my dad's request to hear from Oscar specifically about my— our trip. He hasn't said more than two words to my dad.

But even so, clearly, Oscar was now the favourite.

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Sorry this took a while I was watching feyd rautha edits for a lengthy period of time, please understand 🙏

What do you guys think about weekly updates?? I'm thinking I could update every Saturday, and possibly Sunday too if I'm able to ?

Let me know!