THE END | Oscar Piastri

59. new girl

Sav's pov

We're in Mexico this week. Many of the teams decided to use the first practice session for rookie testing.

Aston Martin is one of those teams. Clarissa Lucas, Fernando's replacement for next year. Is going to be driving. It's the first time she's in the paddock all year.

I get ready in the bathroom mirror, changing my hairstyle for the fourth time. "Do you think if I go up to her, she'll get creeped out? Should I make it seem natural? How would I even do that?" I voice my concerns to Oscar, who gets ready in the other room.

"There's people who don't even know you and still love you. I think you'll be okay."

"Yes, but there's also people who don't know me and hate me." Oscar doesn't say anything, but appears in the doorway seconds later. "Have you been reading comments again?" His concerned eyes zip around my face, a frantic search for something.

I shake my head truthfully. "No. But I still know that people don't like me. It's a given." I shrug. Oscar visibly relaxes. "Well... if she doesn't like you, I guess you can't force a friendship."

"I guess." I mumble like a moody teenager. I drop my head, playing around with the brush in my hand and the pallet of blush, creating powder only to dap it away.

"And I think anyone who doesn't like you isn't in their right mind. So really, you have nothing to worry about." I look up through my eyelashes to the mirror, looking at him through the reflection.

The sly little smirk on his face makes me smile, too. I turn by body to his, taking the two steps forward required to close the gap between us, and loop my arms around his neck. Like it's a reflex, his hands are on my hips milliseconds after.

I connect our lips in a delicate, little kiss. And then I do it again. And again. When I try to do it a fourth time, he doesn't let me pull away. His lips stay connected to mine even when I pull back.

It was so easy for him to take control of the situation. The two steps I'd taken towards him are reversed as he takes the steps, causing me to move backward with him.

My back hits the cool marbled counter, a sharp contrast to the fire burning my skin from his touch. "Jump." I don't even think about his request—or, more like command—my body itself reacted to the words.

He lifts me onto the counter with ease, multiple make up products tumbling down into the porcelain sink. His hands find the bare skin of my thighs and he squeezes them, forcing my legs apart so he can slip his body in the space he's created.

I don't even notice his lips have left mine until he hits that special spot below my ear. The grip I have on his arm tightens, and I think I roll my hips into his cause he chuckles, a noise that makes my brain stop working.

Just my luck, there's an obnoxious loud pounding on the door. "Oscar, mate, come on we've got that meeting in ten!" Oh Pato, keep an eye open while you're sleeping tonight.

Oscars forehead rests against my shoulder. My face burns and I don't know if it's from our activities or Pato's interruption. "Yeah... I'll be out in a minute." He calls, his forehead still on my shoulder, and his arms encircling my waist.

I rest my arms around his shoulders. "I'll get a ride from someone else." I tell him. My makeup is only half done—and probably fucked up now, so I'll have to start over—and I haven't even thought about my outfit yet.

He turns his head so he can look at me. "You sure? You could get ready in my room. It's only Friday I'm sure not that many people will be there."