𝐒 𝐏 𝐑 𝐈 𝐍 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 [max verstappen x oc]

twenty-one

Lena, fitted into a black miniskirt and a red top, clutched her purse as her heels made satisfying clacking noises against the cobblestone ground. 

Wes had asked to come with her, begged to come with her, even. But Lena had said no, implying that it was an RB only event. Was this true? Not that she knew of, but bringing Wes around more miniature Max Verstappens was not going to give either of them a good time. 

She wasn't sure of the dress code so decided on her usual bar outfit--nothing too slutty but it would definitely get her some looks tonight. 

Lena was stopped at the front door and asked for her ID, and she found it comforting that she looked younger than her age despite the makeup she had vigourously applies. Being blessed with full lips and long eyelashes, Lena had been cursed with acne as a teen which left some discoloration around her cheeks. She had grown to kind of like it, though--she'd always wanted freckles and these gave her a little more personality. 

The event (if that's what you can call it) was a club. Literally just a club. 

Completely dark save for a few beams of flashing lights that moved aorund the room, illuminating the partiers as they danced and drank. The music was loud and relatively bad, but in Monaco only the extremely high-end places had good music--Lena didn't have the funds or the connections to get into those places. She couldn't make out any RB employees through the crowd, or any notion that there was Formula One involved at all. It slowly grew on Lena that maybe this didn't have anything to do with racing, and maybe Max Verstappen had just wanted her to come to the same club as him. She pushed the thought aside and drowned it out with a mojito. 

__________________________________

After three more drinks, Lena had decided to wipe the thought of Max from her mind completely and fling herself onto the dance floor, waving her arms and her hair around as she lost control in her drunken haze. Music always sounded better when you were drunk enough to block it out. 

People around her danced with her--a few Spanish girls and some guys that were too handsy--but after a while Lena began to feel a little alone on the floor. Her forehead was gleaming with sweat and she could feel her stomach churning. She didn't throw up often, but Lena took that as a sign to head to the bathroom just to be safe. 

Stumbling through the dark hallway as the lights flashed in her eyes, Lena gripped her purse and used her other hand to glide on the wall to keep balance. She had no idea where the bathroom was and decided to guess. 

Lena flung one of the doors open, revealing a slightly more lit room with couches and slower music filled with people. 

"Oh. Désolée." She said awkwardly, a giggle coming through her mouth as she held the door handle and glanced into the room. 

"Pas de soucis." Someone said--a man, but Lena couldn't track down his face or his eyes and she began to wonder how many drinks she'd really had, because--

"Lena?"

Finally, a familiar voice. "Max? Est-ce que tu?"

Silence. 

"Mate, she's asking if it's you--yes, this is Max. Est-ce que tu?" French guy said, laughing. 

"Oui--Max?" Lena answered but quickly turned back to where she heard her name. 

Someone stood and came over to her, holding her elbow in his hand and coming into line with her face and it was Max Verstappen. 

"Yes, it is me. Are you drunk?"

Lena snorted. "You ask me that a lot, you know?"

"Maybe it's because you're drunk a lot." Max sighed and held her arm lightly as he pulled her away from the door. "Come here, sit."

He carefuly led her to the couches, which she could see now were occupied by a handful of guys and about three girls, looking at her funny. 

French guy had dark hair. "Do you know her?"

Max thought for a moment. "Yes. She's a friend--I'll explain later, Charles."

"Charles?" Lena was taken aback. "As in, Leclerc?"

French guy--Charles Fucking Leclerc--grinned at her. "Oui. Enfin un français avec qui je peux discuter."

Lena laughed at that and swatted his shoulder. Charles fucking Leclerc was here. He was cute in a Monegasque way--round eyes, pointed nose. Very cute. Not so much Lena's type, but she could see why he had half the internet thirsting over him.

Max was on her left side and Charles leaned on the couch in front of her. A girl on her right tapped her shoulder. 

"Hi, are you alright?" The girl sounded sweet. Actually, she sounded Scottish, oddly enough. 

Lena smiled and assured the girl she was fine. "I had a few mojitos, but I feel more clear-headed now. I'm Lena."

"Rebecca." The girl's smile was bright and welcoming, and Lena felt safer next to her already. "Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

Lena nodded before Rebecca turned away to talk with someone next to her and Charles had already zoned out of the conversation and began scrolling on his phone. 

Looking around the room, some were smoking and having their own conversations as they lounged in the music, others were up dancing or talking by the tables. Max sat still next to her, his hand resting behind her back in case she fell over, Lena assumed. He didn't smell like engines, now, he smelled like expensive cologne. His clothes were nicer too--black trousers and a white button down, not to mention the watch on his wrist that looked like it could pay Lena's rent for a year. 

"I didn't think you would come." Max said, glancing down at her. 

Lena shrugged. "It's Monaco. What else is there to do besides party?"

The same hint of a grin pulled on the corners of Max's lips, but his stoic expression stayed strong. Lena liked when he gelled his hair like this and let it look messy in the front. She reached a hand up to touch it, surprised that Max just watched her and didn't say a word. Although Lena swore she saw him inhale sharply when her fingers made contact.

"I thought you'd come find me." She mumbled, running a gelled strand through her fingers. "I was lonely on the dance floor."

"I don't dance."

Lena rolled her eyes. "I could make it worth your while."

She loved it more when his cheeks flushed. Flustering Max Verstappen wasn't easy, but it became natural for Lena. 

"Sorry. Was that unprofessional?"

Max grinned down, shining his perfect white teeth in an animalistic way that Lena smiled back at. 

"You're a demon. Did you know that?" Max shivered at her fingers that were now moved to the back of his neck, playing with the strands that he'd let grow out during the break. 

"Mhm. Speed demon." Lena was zoned out. "You liked that motorcycle ride, though."

"I did. I'd ask for another ride but I don't think you're fit to be anywhere like this."

"Depends on where you want to take me."

Lena really needed to work on filtered what she said when she was drunk because as soon as the words left her lips, the weight of them landed on her chest. She was suddenly aware of how close their faces were and how often Max had been glancing down at her lips while she spoke. 

She instinctively moved away and began fiddling with her hands, already sobering up faster than she'd expected. 

Suddenly, Max grabbed her hand and stood. "Come on. I'm going to take you home."

"I don't want to go home."

"Yes, you do."

Lena rolled her eyes. "I want to stay and hang out with Rebecca."

Rebecca, after hearing her name, smiled at Lena. "Honey, I think Max is right. Go home and sleep--the hangover is gonna hurt."

Outnumbered and exhausted, she let Max's strong arms pull her off the couch, waving goodbye to the people she'd met for mere moments, and followed Max out of the club into the chilly night air.