„It doesn't metter if anything good happened to me. I still feel like I'm just supporting role."
_-_-_-_-_
Girl who feel like she don't deserve the best because it was always her friend who got it.
Boy who make her feel like main character.
[Social...
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"Can I ask you something?" George asked as they settled into the restaurant they had chosen together. They had picked a place that wouldn't be too crowded at this hour because they wanted privacy-after all, George was still a Formula One driver who attracted a lot of attention, and Vica didn't want pictures of her having lunch with George Russell appearing on the internet. She didn't need the mysterious blonde to get another story.
"You already did," Vica joked. She didn't know where it came from because she had never spoken to anyone like this. She had never been into awkward jokes, she was never good at flirting, and she always felt nervous talking to boys. So why did all that disappear when she talked to the brunette? Why did she feel like she had known him all her life? Why did she feel no nervousness around him?
"Very funny, Vica," George said with a straight face, but he couldn't hold it for long because he had to smile when looking at the blonde. Vica didn't realize how captivated George was by her. She had no idea how much he had fallen for her and how much he wanted to hold her hand and never let go.
"Okay, sorry," she smiled too, but only because it was impossible not to smile when someone as handsome as George was smiling at you. "Go ahead, ask."
"Where are you from?" he asked.
"London, but from ages two to eight, I lived in Birmingham," she replied. She wasn't lying; her family had indeed moved to Birmingham because her father got a job offer there. They moved back to London afterward, but it was just the two of them then.
"That's not what I meant," George shook his head. "Wait, Birmingham? You lived in Birmingham?"
"Six years, yes," Vica nodded. She understood his disbelief. She had no accent at all. Even though she grew up there as a child, she never picked up the accent. Her parents spoke beautiful London English to her, so she adopted their speech and was glad because she didn't like the Birmingham accent.
"You don't have any accent," George said, as Vica knew he would.
"Six years isn't very long. Since then, I've only been in London, so even if I had picked up the accent, I would have unlearned it quickly," she explained.
"Alright, but that wasn't my original question," George shook his head to steer the conversation back to his intended topic.
"But I did answer your question," Vica chuckled.
"Maybe you were born in England and live here, but you definitely aren't just English," George said.
"What do you mean?" Vica didn't understand.
"Your name," he said.
"What's wrong with my name?"
"There's nothing wrong with your name," George chuckled. "Vica is a really beautiful name, and I can't imagine you being called anything else. But it's not a typical English name. Your parents must be from somewhere other than England."
