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"Thank you, Ollie, enjoy your evening," the blonde-haired reporter said with genuine warmth, her blue eyes sparkling under the paddock lights as she offered a grateful smile, accompanied by a subtle nod of her head.
"Thank you," Ollie replied curtly.
He felt akin to an aircraft operating on low energy, coasting on autopilot as he navigated through what he wished to be the last bits of the evening's engagements. A smile remained steadfastly plastered on his countenance, a façade masking the weariness that settled in his bones, as mindlessly, he returned the microphone in his hand to the awaiting grasp of the man stationed next to the camera, the weight of his arm feeling burdensome as he relinquished the device.
Having been surrounded by the myriad lenses aimed in his direction nearly all throughout the weekend, Ollie was more than ready to bid farewell to the glare of the spotlight and treat himself to the solace of solitude that awaited him at the other side of the paddock.
The Englishman wasn't even mentally present at the moment, for his eyes were already ensnared by the radiant glow that graced the Jeddah Cornice Circuit with her ethereal presence.
Rosetta rested a prudent distance away from the hustle and bustle of the press frenzy, her petite form reclined languidly upon the padded seat, squeezed between the two friends she'd been travelling with before the race weekend. They lay beneath the protective canopy of a towering palm tree as she patiently awaited the culmination of his media obligations. A lazy smirk, like delicate spring petals, bloomed across her nude-painted lips as their gazes met.
The Ferrari driver ambled forward, and he felt the semblance of a smile that had been forced upon his lips gradually transform into a genuine curve, tugging at the corners of his mouth until his cheeks yielded to its embrace.
Despite the profound sense of fulfilment rolling within him, every fibre of his being ached with exhaustion.
His back screamed with protest, his neck teetered on the precipice of collapse, and his limbs felt as though they were weighed down by leaden anchors. With each deliberate step, he willed his fatigued body forward, urging his feet to carry him onward into the team's hospitality area.
A languid tilt of his head was all it took for Rosetta to follow. Out of the corner of his eyes, Ollie glimpsed a gleaming excitement on her visage as she practically skipped to her feet. Though she kept a good distance behind, her form was rapidly approaching in his peripheral vision.
And, oh, the itching need to shatter decorum, to roar her name and be whisked away in the warmth of her embrace.
But it was all a mere desperate wish for him, one swallowed by the watchful eyes of a thousand cameras.
