Criminal ~ OP81

02. Fate's Plan

Andrea Wolff

First day and I was already running late.

The cool morning air whips through my hair as I try to tame it with only my hands while also quickly walking to the paddock entrance. Curses fly past my lips as I give up on the dark strands and instead dig through my purse for the pass my dad gave me. But the stupid thing was so far lost in the clutter of the bag I always say I'll organize but never do.

My dad has known me for twenty three years and has seemingly forgotten I am the opposite of him in terms of sleep schedules. I haven't woke up early or on time a day in my life- either I over sleep or I change the set time to a later time so I'll actually make it.

Finally I see the security gate and my fingertips brush the lanyard holding the pass close enough for me to grab it and lay it over my head.

I'm definitely going to need a coffee after this.

I swipe the pass over the scanner and expect it to flash green, but it makes a loud buzzing noise before flashing red.

"What the fuck" I grumble and swipe it over again.

Nothing happens.

I try again.

And again.

Still nothing.

"Come on, you stupid thing!" I groan loudly, frustration building.

Like a broken record, I continue to swipe the pass against the scanner before I grumble one more time and then try to find my phone in my cluttered bag.

But that's when you hear it - a voice tinged with amusement and an Australian accent. "Having trouble breaking and entering?"

I whirl around with a deep frown and I fix my white tank, ready to snap at whoever's making light of my stupid situation. So I couldn't wake up early enough to get here a the right time, sue me but don't patronize me!

But whatever I was going to say, dies in my throat at the sight before me.

Of course I looked up the current grid of this years, so I knew who exactly was standing in front of me.

Standing there, looking unfairly good in his McLaren team shirt and plain jeans, is Oscar Piastri. I saw his official f1 picture and I'd like to speak to the photographer because he had one job and somehow didn't capture the charming boyish grin he's wearing now.

Swallowing the shock at meeting him in this very awkward situation, I manage to quip back, "Ha ha. Very funny, mate. Any chance you could help a girl out?"

Oscar leans against the barrier, a humorous glint in his brown eyes that makes my heart do a little summersault without even asking first.

"I don't know... What if you're a criminal mastermind? I can't be responsible for unleashing chaos in the paddock. My team principal would kill me."

I scoff, since when do thieves or criminals asks for help? That should've been a green flag on my part if anything, "Yes, because criminals often try to sneak in using faulty passes and zero stealth skills."

He doesn't look like he thinks it over so I get the feeling he's messing with me. If it was anyone else I might've been annoyed, but for some reason I don't care as much.

Wow he really is charming because I get annoyed pretty easily.

"Fair point," he concedes, and i notice the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. He's cute but he'd be cuter if he helped me out.