VIPER || Oscar Piastri

Chapter 72

[ POV: Narrator ]

"No, I wanna go with Oscar!!!"

They were all suited up to race now, helmets in hand, the karting track just beyond the gates—yet somehow, the biggest battle was team selection.

Lando had practically flung himself between Andi and Oscar, arms outstretched like a human barricade. Andi was staring up at him in annoyance, one glove half-on, eyebrows lifting. "Why?!" she asked, baffled.

"Because he's MY teammate!"

He jabbed his thumb dramatically at his chest.

Behind them, George and Alex were doubled over, watching the drama unfold like they were two boys on the schoolyard. Alex, grinning, leaned toward George and muttered something through a snicker, making them both laugh even harder. Then, George added fuel to the fire: "Yeah, but he's HER boyfriend, mate, not yours!"

Lando shot them both a betrayed look, then turned his full attention to Oscar. He blocked Andi from his view, looking at him with what were supposed to be puppy-eyes. Arms crossed, he was visibly waiting for Oscar to say something. To pick him, that is. Andi, meanwhile, turned expectantly too, moving so that Oscar could see her. She had none of the theatrical pleading, though. She just wanted him to pick one of them so that she could race.

Oscar scratched the back of his neck, sighing through a smile. "Look... since she hasn't gone karting in a while..."

Lando gasped. Then groaned. He snatched up his helmet and stormed onto the track. Andi turned over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at him—quick, sneaky, so that only he could see it.

The race itself was chaos—it'd started drizzling again around mid-way through. Lando spun twice. Albon clipped a cone. Andi took a while to get the hang of racing something other than a bike again. Oscar was fine.

By the time the final lap came, they were soaked. Now drenched, when they took their helmets off, water went running down faces and into suits. Nonetheless, they were all laughing, shouting between teams and relaying the events of the last thirty minutes.

While Referee Russel counted up points, Lando and Albon were already mid-argument about strategy, both gesturing wildly with their helmets in hand, while their opposition were leaned against the barriers, both chatting. Andi shook her head, sending drops of rain flying. "You didn't have to let me past on that last lap," she said, nudging him.

Oscar shrugged. "I didn't. You took it."

Still catching her breath, Andi stepped out in front of him, hands in motion as she visually demonstrated her overtake on Lando (that she was very proud of), arms slicing the air, animated. Oscar, focused, nodded along, but then she paused mid-motion to look at him closer.

"What?" he asked, brow lifting.

Without answering, Andi leaned in suddenly, eyes fixed on his cheek. Oscar stiffened, caught completely off-guard.

Was she going to—?

She reached up and, with the edge of her glove, swiped a streak of dirt from just under his cheekbone. "How'd you get mud on your face?" she asked. He stared. She turned back to the others.

George had barely gotten the words out—"Alright, looks like it's a tie"—when Lando shot his hand up and approach him.

"ONE V ONE. ONE V ONE. IT'S THE ONLY WAY."

George blinked. "I mean, sure... If the other team agrees—"

"I'LL TAKE HIM."

Everyone turned. Andi stepped forward like she was being drafted to war. One glove was already back on, finger pointing straight at Lando. "If he's not too scared."