Cropped out - an Oscar Piastri x OC fic

Chapter 22- Mango juice and mistakes

Eliana:
A groan leaves my lips before i even fully open my eyes, a slither of sunlight peeking through my semi-closed curtains that paints a warm orange glow on my bed sheets. A haphazard job, but at least i tried. I stretch my body, tight from a drunk-induced sleep, another groan grazing past my lips as i ease my body back to its original position. I stare at the ceiling for a beat, then lift my head up and grab my phone that, wonderfully, is on my bedside table. 9:45 am, perfect. Cant even get a lay-in, what the fuck is this.
I have multiple messages from Liv saying that she's checked to make sure i was in my room (i was) and that she's gonna sleep in her own tonight. Followed by a good night message, and a message from Lando saying that he hoped i had a good time last night. The underlying meaning haunts me, but i push it down, not to be looked at too clearly before i even get out of bed. I clear a few other notifications, most just some of the drivers following me on instagram and new followers on my jpg account. Lovely.

I plop my phone back on my bedside table and sit up, rubbing my hands in my eyes to properly wake me up. I shift the duvet and notice that im only in my bra. My heart races for a split second, fully confident that i will see the man i so dont want to see laying in the bed next to me, but it calms when im met with the untouched duvet still made up from the cleaner. I release a breath. Thank the fucking heavens above. The thought of him laying there, glorious back facing me, sprawled on his front, makes my hands sweat, heightened when the fragments of last night filter into my mind, now not repressed like id hoped they would be. Like shards of a broken mirror, they fit together, until i can only see myself in Oscar's arms. I bristle at the thought, shaking it all away, whether in anger at my complete and utter stupidity, or in anger at the fact that its heating me up from the inside. It was a fleeting moment of reckless abandon, is all. Fueled purely by alcohol. Nothing else. Maybe.

I flop onto my side and bury my head in my pillow, hoping that if i try and suffocate myself then all the feelings currently coursing through me will dissipate. I shouldn't want to see him again. Be in his arms again. Especially now that i am sober. But i do. God, i do. If only to see the hot hatred in his eyes as he tightens his hands on me. Good God, i am so undeniably screwed.

The despair at the fact Oscar ignites a flame buried so deep within me gnaws at my innards until im forced to remove my face from my pillow and get up, inhaling a wobbly but fresh breath of air. Fortunately, i still have enough time for some breakfast from the lobby, so i grab some clothes and message Liv that im going to pop downstairs for some food. I know that she will scream if i am gone when she eventually comes to wake me up. So im saving my fellow hotel neighbours.

—

I press the button for the lift, biting the skin on the edge of my thumb in anticipation, because no way am i walking 8 stories down those stairs, still a little unsure if i have a hangover or not. I look up when the lift makes a little ding, signalling its arrival, the doors opening to reveal... a man. Oh great, i wanted to be alone. He looks like he'll be quiet, which is the least i could ask for, if im being quite honest. I go to walk in but the man looks up, at me or at the doors that are still open. I dont really know, all coherent thoughts leaving my head in one single whoosh as those brown eyes meet mine. Those brown eyes that were so close to my face last night. Oh fucking hell. The doors go to shut but he presses the button to keep them open. Still, i stand there, struggling to breathe, then turn to walk down the stairs.

"Eliana." he says firmly behind me, halting my steps. Goddamn his sexy morning voice. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

I turn around and meet his stare once again, and he tilts his head lightly to the free space in the lift, stepping back so i can walk in.

—

The lift is big, enough room for at least 10 people, yet it couldnt feel smaller. The uncomfortable silence between us suffocating me as i take stolen glances at him every so often, watching the way a few strands of his hair brushes over his forehead as he looks down at his phone. I cant handle it anymore, so i look away and take a big breath, huffing it out louder than intended, making it sound like im agitated. Which... i guess is not wrong.