Alyara Stroll has burst into the F1 world with much more than a bang. She's driving for RedBull off her own success rather than money, and she's trying her hardest to fit in and win her first race in her second season. Enter Ollie Bearman. His debut...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗘- 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙖𝙡𝙖
⋆📦⭒🤎⭒🍪⭒🐻⋆
alyara stroll
I love Monaco. I think I say that every time I travel between countries, but I live here, so I love it as much as Canada, my two home countries.
I have this apartment close to the Marina, a penthouse, some would say, but I say apartment, because in my social circle, it's a small place. That might make me sound spoilt, but I've built up my own wealth myself because my father refused me anything, so, not spoilt.
After Lena moved out, living alone is great.
I lie on my couch, feet up on the coffee table with a glass of chocolate milk in my hands as I scrolled through Instagram on my finsta account. I love not being famous for two hours, and just commenting ludicrous things on my friend's accounts. Speaking of friends, after Oscar and Madison went official to all of our friends, Lena, Tamera and I took the liberty of adding her to the WAGs group chat, although seeing that is for another time.
My heart is still fluttering from my odd phone call with Ollie. Would you call it odd? Probably not, but it was a leap from what I was expecting, in the best way possible. A gala. The F1 Sponsors Gala. Dozens of cameras, hundreds of people, billions of dollars. And I don't have a dress. It's a travesty, really, considering tonight is the gala and I've had the past three days full of fitness programs and conditioning with no time to shop. My stylist is late, which is making me nervous, so that's why I think I have to shop, which makes zero sense since I have one, and the gala is four hours away and I have outfits to pick from.
As if on cue, I hear a knock on the door, and Becca walks in. She's short, shorter than me, and has this Edna Mode inspired black bob, thick glasses, and lives in bold black and red outfits.
A flamboyant rack of garments, shoes and boxes followed her into my living room.
"Good morning, gorgeous, happy gala day!" Becca smiled.
"We already had gala day at the Met."
"Fine, happy F1 gala day!" She squealed again, giving me a tight hug. "Who's your date?"
My date.
F1-hopeful Oliver James Bearman. Fluffy brown hair, creamy brown eyes, infectious smile. I'm sure he'll be in Formula One someday, just not in Ferrari, preferably. He's handsome. I like the way his suit hangs around his waist. I like the way his eyebrows raise when he looks at me.
I can't say all that, so I just say, "Uhm- Ollie Bearman, he's an F2 driver." Heat creeps up my cheeks when I say his name.
She smiles at my blush. "Let me see a photo. What's he wearing?"
