"YOU'RE BOUND TO LEAVE WITH A HUSBAND at this point, Quinn." Cleo shoved a forkful of salad into her mouth, as Stevie took a long sip of her mimosa, raising an eyebrow at her friend.
"Highly doubtful. I'm doing this for my dad, not to look for marriage proposals. He loved racing, and if I can continue his legacy and find a position in Formula 1, then I can prove all his hard work and mine wasn't for nothing." Stevie placed her glass down on the table and leaned back in her chair. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. These three days could get her foot in the door for something even greater. Working at headquarters for Ferrari in Maranello. Galavanting about the Mclaren Tech Center in the English countryside. Her dream since she was a little girl working on her first V8 engine.
Stevie looked out into the busy streets of Austin, the cars rolling by at a slow city pace, barely 40 an hour. She took a deep breath of fresh air, though it wasn't really fresh as it was filled with scents of exhaust, fried foods, and piss.
"God bless America..." She grumbled, watching a man spit a wad of tobacco into the flowers right below the patio where she and Cleo were sat.
"Um, have some fucking decorum, you piece of shit. Some of us are trying to have a nice meal." Cleo spat at the man, who sneered at her with brown teeth and stuck a middle finger up at her.
"You motherfucker-" Cleo grabbed her Bloody Mary and shot up out of her chair but Stevie reached forward and snatched it from her hands, spilling most of the red liquid on her brand new white crochet top. Cleo gasped and her hands flew to cover her mouth as the man continued stumbling on down the street.
"Both of you are in the need of fucking decorum." Stevie groaned, and reached for a handful of napkins, noticing the other diners and the two servers outside all gawking at her and Cleo. She cringed, embarrassed at how many people had probably seen the whole thing go down. She'd never be able to eat here ever again. Never be able to even walk down this street .
"What an asshole." Stevie heard an accent much different than most you'd hear in Texas and turned around to see a young boy looking at her, clean shaven with fluffy brown hair covering his eyes. Not American, that's for sure.
"Such a shame. It was a very nice top." He said softly, that accent coming out again. He offered her some more napkins, then awkwardly watched her try to wipe most of the drink off of her with his hand rubbing the back of his neck.
"Yeah. It was. Should've known better than to wear it when I'm going out with her, though." Stevie looked back at Cleo who rolled her eyes and reached for Stevie's mimosa, taking a disrespectfully long sip of the drink.
"Cunt..."
"Whatever, I'll fucking buy you a new one if you're so sour over it." Cleo scoffed and sat back down, but not before Stevie noticed her looking the French boy up and down.
"Sorry about all that. Shockingly, we don't actually hate each other."
"Wrong! I loathe you!" Stevie rolled her eyes and looked back at the stranger, narrowing her gaze. He seemed so familiar, but she couldn't quite put her finger on where she'd seen him before.
"Actually, I'd like to buy you the top. If you'd let me." He smiled, digging his hands into his pockets. Stevie raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.
"Oh yeah? And why would you do that? We don't even know each other."
"Yeah, but I'd like if we did." Smooth little shit. Stevie couldn't hold in her smile. The stranger held out his hand, and she hesitated to take it in hers.
"Arthur. Nice to meet you." Then it clicked.
Holy shit, this is Arthur Leclerc.
Breathe, Stevie, don't freak the fuck out, she thought to herself, before taking his hand.
"Stevie. The pleasure's, all mine."
steviequinn
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liked by cleosanchez, nglibert, arthur_leclerc and 93,784 others steviequinn when brunch includes attempted murder and a shopping spree
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