𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮; oscar piastri ✔

PART SEVEN

Word count; 2,683

Oscar

— June 5th, 2023. Woking, England.

The briefing never seemed to end. Every second I had to fight my eyes from closing - as did Lando, who I'm sure I caught asleep earlier. We had caught the same flight together, late Sunday evening, the turbulence prohibiting any kind of sleep, and had to be awake six hours later for work, three hours of which I avoided; Addison's cabs to the airport kept getting cancelled, and then her flight was delayed too, and then we just messaged for the next thirty minutes before she entered the gate. My cheeks still hurt from how much I smiled.

Almost coincidentally, my phone buzzed from my back pocket, my head snapping upright. Lando twitched beside me, caught off guard by the sudden movement, and I glanced at him cautiously, met with a scowl. Discreetly, I looked back at the whiteboard in front of us, Andrea disecting the beginning of the race in Barcelona, then all around - the various other McLaren personnel across the conference table. Confident, I reached into my pocket.

10:09 AM
— one new message from: 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯
𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘭

I smiled, glancing once more at the whiteboard before tapping on the notification. Only, Lando's elbow shoved against my side, and I hid the screen - like I was back in highschool, trying not to get caught for using my phone. I regarded him warily, his eyes prompting to the board. When I didn't look, he frowned, gaze drifting to my phone. I shut it off quickly.

Not quick enough.

His jaw opened slightly, his lips curling. I glared at him, returning my phone to my pocket and folding my arms. My heart pounded against my ribcage, like I really had been caught. For what?

Fortunately, Andrea dismissed us for a break, and I shot up from my chair. I pulled out my phone again, silently cursing at the fact I had left Addison on read, and began to type a response, my feet already taking me outside.

Moments later, the door opened behind me.

"You know her dad hates motorsport."

I pivoted slowly. "And?" 

Lando chuckled, "You tell me."

"You hang out with her." I reasoned, still focusing on my phone.

"I've known her since I was a kid." He said simply.

Pressing send I slid my phone back into my pocket, only to find Lando was still staring at me.

"What?" I supplied.

"You know she told me in Monaco that she doesn't need a F1 boyfriend."

I scoffed a chuckle, "Good thing that I don't want to be her boyfriend."