i'm yours // OP81

002

Saturday morning arrives and I can't help the pit that forms in my stomach. I apply my usual makeup as I wait for Oscar to text me that he's outside. I've changed my outfit multiple times, basically having a panic attack over every outfit. I give up and just go with a pair of flare jeans with a loose papaya crop top and converse. I finally get the message that he's outside, causing me to hurriedly grab my tote bag before basically flinging myself out the door. The walk to the lobby feels like it takes so much longer than usual, letting the anxiety in my stomach bubble up even more.

Oscar is standing outside of the black McLaren that the team had rented for him for the weekend. He forces a tightlipped smile at me, opening the door for me. He helps me in before shutting the door and getting into the drivers seat. The only sound is the engine of the car and the soft music that was playing. We hadn't spoken since Thursday at the pit wall other than him sending message updates about the pick up time this morning. I try to ignore the awkward tension between us as he begins the drive to the paddock.

"I want you to watch the race from my garage," Oscar says, glancing over at me. I nod, continuing to stare out the window. The passing buildings seeming more and more interesting the longer I'm in this car with him.

"Anything else?" I ask, deciding that my hands are more interesting than the outside now. My nails were neatly done a week ago, now my fingers had slight scabs on them with marks where I've bitten the skin around my nails.

"Stop picking at your nails," he says sternly, reaching over to push my hands apart. I flinch, staring at my hands where his hand was.

"Sorry," I murmur out, my eyes unmoving. The silence returns to the car, just the sound of the engine revving filling the air. Once at the paddock, Oscar finds a spot in the drivers lot near Lando's rental. He gets out before walking around to help me out. The paddock is buzzing with energy as we make our way towards the entrance.

About 500 feet from the entrance, Oscar's hand grabs mine. Cameras flash around up, fans begging for his autograph, people yelling at us. I zone out, staring at the ground as Oscar stops to sign autographs. People clamor over him, trying to get his attention. My eyes stayed glued to the ground, staring at his feet, making sure I can follow him wherever he may go.

"Calliope. At least look like you want to be with me," Oscar whispers harshly into my ear as we begin to walk away from the crowd and towards the McLaren motorhome. I look up, laying my head on his arm as we walk.

"Better?" I ask, glancing up towards him. He gives a slight nod, his jaw clenching. Lando is waiting outside of the team hub for Oscar so they can get ready for the drivers parade. He looks at me, a smirk playing on his lips. Oscar leads me to his drivers room, where I wait for him to return from media and the parade.

~-~ -~-

About an hour and a half later Oscar opens the door to his drivers room. His eyes meet mine and his jaw clenches. I notice his eyes float to his race suit, so I take it as a sign to remove myself from the room so he can change.

After a couple minutes, he emerges and grabs my hand. I follow him as he leads the way to the McLaren garage where he sits me in a corner with a headset. His race suit is around his waist, the sleeves swishing around as he moves. I stare at him from afar, studying him. The way he watches his mechanics, the way he talks to Tom and Kim, the way he studies strategies. The noise around me disappears as all I can focus on is the Australian. He glances over at me, his eyes squinted, causing me to tear my eyes away from him. I stare out of the open garage door and to where the stands are. They begin to prepare for the reconnaissance lap, Oscar finishing suiting up. I watch the way he crinkles his nose as he pushes the ear plugs in before pulling the balaclava over his head. He pulls his helmet on his head, making his way to me. His brown eyes and the small area around his eyes are the only thing visible through his open visor.