Forever and Always | Max Verstappen *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Epilogue 1 - Tears in a Vegas Chapel

Las Vegas GP 2024
The energy on the grid was electric, as always, and my adrenaline was still spiking from the sheer chaos of the Las Vegas Grand Prix.

The cameras were rolling, the crowd was buzzing in the background, and I was in full "Sky Sports F1 anchor mode."

The race had just ended, and George Russell had pulled off a stunning win.

And then, of course, there was Max.

Four-time World Champion Max Verstappen.

"George Russell takes the win here under the bright lights of Vegas, but all eyes are on Max Verstappen, who has just secured his fourth World Drivers' Championship. A phenomenal season for the Red Bull driver, solidifying his place among the greats—"

Before I could finish my sentence, arms circled my waist from behind, pulling me off-balance.

I let out a surprised yelp, and before I even turned to see who it was, I knew.

"Max!" I hissed. "We're live!"

But he didn't care. Of course, he didn't care.

He spun me around effortlessly, the sound of my mic catching the gasps and laughter from the crowd around us.

I was trying so hard not to break character, but Max's grin was impossibly charming, and his energy was absolutely infectious.

"Live, huh? Even better," he said.

"Max, I'm serious!" I said, my voice dropping an octave, though I couldn't hide the slight edge of laughter.

"Me too," he said, eyes sparkling like he was enjoying every second of this.

And before I could stop him—before I could even think—he leaned down and kissed me.

Right there. On live television.

I froze for a split second, my heart flipping over in my chest, and then I heard the cheers erupting from the crowd.

My brain scrambled to catch up as I pushed against his chest lightly, my face burning hotter than the Las Vegas sun.

"Max," I said again, "We're live."

"And I just became a four-time World Champion," he replied, a smirk tugging at his lips as he looked down at me. "I think that deserves a celebration, no?"

I couldn't help it—I laughed, even as I tried to keep my composure for the camera.

He had that effect on me.

Clearing my throat, I managed to turn back to the camera, my professionalism hanging by a thread.

"And...we'll be back after a short break. This is Emma Davis, live from Sky Sports F1."

The second the red light on the camera blinked off, I spun around to glare at him, though I was pretty sure the effect was ruined by the fact that I was still smiling.

"You're impossible, you know that?"

He just shrugged, "You love it."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't argue.

He wasn't wrong.

Max led me to the corner of the paddock, his hand gripping mine like he was afraid I'd slip away.

He didn't stop there, though.

He opened the door to his driver's room, ushering me inside like we were sneaking into a secret club.

I raised an eyebrow, amused. "Your driver's room? Seriously, Max? I expected a little more romance."

He smirked. "What? You don't like the smell of champagne and motor oil? Very exclusive ambiance."