Forever and Always | Max Verstappen *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Under my Skin

Present day

Emma
I woke up the next morning, and for a moment, I just lay there, letting the light filter in through the curtains.

Last night, for the first time in ages, I actually slept without waking up to a storm of thoughts.

Max had arranged pillows next to me so I had something to cling to because he left for early practice like he said he would.

I glanced around, my eyes landing on the note on the nightstand. My heart did a little skip.

Max had left me a note.

It was simple, his handwriting a little messy, but I could almost picture him scribbling it down before leaving, trying not to wake me.

"Out for media for qualis. C u in some time. F&A. ~Max"

God, what was F&A? The last note he left me had that at the end too. It had to mean something.

I'd have to ask him later, assuming I could work up the nerve.

Once I pulled myself together, I met up with Kika, and we made our way over to the track for qualifying.

By the time we got there, P3 had just finished, and somehow, Max was sitting at third.

Honestly, I didn't even know that was humanly possible for him.

But maybe he was just saving it all for quali.

I bumped into Rebecca again, and this time, I was ready.

I'd done my research—thank you, Kika—so I could actually keep up with her rapid-fire questions.

Then, quali started, and Max... well, he was Max.

P1 in Q1, Q2, and Q3.

Australia 26th January 2019

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music : "we cant be friends" by Ariana Grande

Emma was in Australia for the next grand prix and her morning was off to a terrible start.

She'd planned to keep everything strictly professional this time—just get the interview, do her job, and stay as far away from Max as humanly possible.

She'd barely gotten any sleep after arriving in Australia last night.

She scrambled around her room, brushing her hair with one hand while glancing at her watch. Already late.

Great.

Just as she finally grabbed her things and opened the door, she nearly bumped right into him.

Max. Of course.

There he was, leaning casually against the wall, that damn half-smile on his face.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he teased, "Thought you were going to sleep through breakfast."

"I actually don't have time for breakfast—I'm already running late," she said, trying to edge past him.

He blocked her just enough to keep her from slipping away. "Oh, come on, Emma. Breakfast won't take long. Besides, I figured we could chat a little. Clear up anything you need for the interview."

"Nope, I'm good, thanks. My team has the interview scheduled for today, and they'll be in touch," she replied.

She had no interest in lingering; his charm was already starting to break down her defenses, and she knew it.

But Max wasn't about to let her off that easy.

"Come on, don't be so serious, Emma. You're in Australia, how often does that happen?"