Don't leave me here [a LANDO NORRIS ff]

II.

And there they were. Looking down at us while standing by the table.

"Hey Clare" Pierre said.

"It's Clara" she corrected him using the most fake sweet voice.

"Clara" he repeated, smiling at her.

"So what are you doing here? Are you following me?" she asked.

"I told you I'm here for the GP, we're just here for dinner and some fun with the other drivers" he answered.

'Other' drivers? So he's a driver. I wondered if both of them were drivers or if the other one was a part of his team. Maybe neither. Maybe he was just a friend, a boyfriend or a cousin perhaps.

Me and the curly boy were quiet, our eyes going inbetween the two. They went on about his attendance at the race and I had time to take a better look at the cauliflower-head guy. He wore a couple bracelets, each looking completely different from the other. I wondered if someone gifted them to him or if he bought them in each country he visited. He wasn't particulary tall, but he wasn't short either. I'd say we're almost the same height. That being said while wearing heels but it doesn't make that much of a difference. I couldn't decide on the perfume he used. I've never smelled anything like it and I worked at Sephora all last summer. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his pants, only the veiny forearms sticking out.

While eyeing this man, I overheard Pierre talking about his contract with Alpine. So maybe Mr. Curlyhair was also a part of Alpine. He shifted his weight from one foot to another and I closely observed every inch of him. His breathing, the way he played with his lips and tongue because he didn't know what else to do. The way he scratched his neck. How he smiled at his friend. How he nodded when he agreed with something Pierre said to Clara.

I was so occupied looking at him, I didn't even notice he stopped listening to Pierre and was looking back at me. Certainly catching me in my staring contest with the creases of his shirt.

"Anyways, we should get going to the others. Maybe see you around tonight? We can't drink but at least we could keep you company" Pierre smiled at Clara.

"For sure! See you around" she answered. And for a moment it seemed like he wasn't dead to her anymore. She looked intrigued by him, even. And by the spark in her eye I knew she was on a mission.

"Let's go Lando" Pierre said to the curly boy as they walked away.

Lando. Lando. Such a unique name. I must've heard it somewhere before but I couldn't quite remember where.

We continued eating the almost cold pasta as I listened to Clara ranting about Pierre and how their children will be the next world champions.

There are not many bars around the restaurant I picked. Clara insisted on going to the most luxurious one, as she strongly belived Pierre would be there. And to be fair, I wanted to know more about this tanned man called Lando, who's got absurd amount of bracelets on his wrists and who smells like summer night in Australia.

We paid for the dinner, being a little bit tipsy from all the wine we had whilst getting ready and during the restaurant visit. We stumbled our way a few streets down Monte Carlo until we got to the bar.

"Hey Jack, mind if we sneak in?" I grinned at the bouncer, my friend from college. He rolled his eyes and let us in with a small sigh.

The bar was quite full. It was the kind of bar where you mostly sit around, drink coctails and talk with your friends. Only a few people were dancing around, swaying to the sound of music. It wasn't like a club full of shots, drugs and sweaty people bouncing into each other. The place was slightly dimmed with only warm LED lights around the tables and seats. A lot of the tables had expensive liquor or champagne ready in an ice bath for upcoming guests. Clara was looking around, spying for a free table. And maybe for Pierre. We walked around, seeing all the tables taken. I decided on getting us a drink while Clara will be playing Katniss Everdeen and fighting for a place to sit.