౨ৎ 𝗦𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗦 oscar piastri ━ chapter twenty-two.
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Oscar blinks awake, squinting at the sunlight streaming through the thin curtains of their hotel room. He stretches, savouring the warm, lazy feeling left over from last night's wine. With a sleepy smile, he turns toward Nora, her hair a golden mess on the pillow beside him. He reaches up to rub his face but freezes mid-motion when his fingers brush something sticky.
"What the hell—" He jolts upright and dashes over to the mirror.
Nora groans, pulling the covers up over her head. "Morning," she mumbles, half-awake. But then she hears his gasp.
"Nora, what did you do to my face?!" he exclaims, equal parts horror and amusement.
She peeks out from under the blanket, biting back a giggle. Staring back at him from the mirror is a masterpiece of her doing: thick, cartoonish eyebrows, a crooked moustache under his nose, a pirate eye patch drawn around one eye, and a big heart with an arrow scribbled on his cheek.
"Oh, c'mon," she says, laughing her heart out. "I think it suits you."
Oscar's eyes widen in mock outrage. "You think this suits me?" he says, lunging at her.
Nora squeaks, rolling away just as he dives onto the bed. They wrestle playfully, Nora's addictive laughter filling the room as she tries to wriggle free. "You're going to pay for this," he warns, pinning her down.
"If you can catch me first," she teases, slipping out of his grasp.
But he's quick, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back down. They collapse onto the bed, breathless and grinning, their faces close enough to touch.
"You're impossible," he says, nudging her with his nose.
"And you love it," she fires back, poking him in the ribs.
He smirks, brushing a strand of hair from her face, leaning in for a kiss. "Yeah, I really do."
They lie there for a moment, tangled together, until Oscar sighs and glances at the clock. "We should get moving. It's our last day here, and I'm not missing out on breakfast."
