VIPER || Oscar Piastri

Chapter 75

A FEW HOURS LATE MY APOLOGIES i just went on a pub crawl and am posting this from the uber home xxx
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[POV: Andreanna Saunterre]

It's eight in the morning.

Lando is blasting music in the kitchen.

MY kitchen.

I paused in the doorway to my bedroom, still in pyjamas, glaring at the back of his head as he hummed off-key.

He was cooking something.

For himself, obviously.

Using my pan. And my olive oil. And my overpriced Maldon salt that I save for actual meals, not... whatever bastardised breakfast he was attempting.

I stepped into the kitchen, wordless. He turned just as I reached for a bowl.

"Morning, sunshine!" he beamed. "Sleep well? Dream of me?"

I didn't answer. I grabbed the cereal box.

"Oh—waitwaitwaitwait—" He practically lunged across the counter. "Hold up. You don't need that."

I stared at him as he snatched the cereal from me.

MY cereal.

He grinned and gestured toward a brown paper bag sitting beside the toaster. "We got you breakfast. It's still warm. You're welcome!"

I glanced at the bag, and without needing to check, I knew what it was. Croissant. I then glanced into the living room— Oscar was there on the sofa, scrolling through his phone.

Then Lando started humming again, so I walked out, folding the pastry bag shut and taking it with me.

My headache had pretty much disappeared, but I still felt all groggy. And spending the day playing Mario Kart wouldn't solve that.

Lando had always been like this, anyway. All-in or not at all. Full-speed. He wasn't trying to be annoying — I knew that. Back when we were younger, it used to make me laugh. At sleepovers, we'd pull 'all-nighters' and go on dumb missions — buying five-course meals in our pyjamas, prank calling other drivers. We'd play Ding-Dong-Ditch at Charles's old building until he joined in, too. Afterwards, Lando would crash on my sofa in a t-shirt he "borrowed" from me, that I, to this day, have not received back. We'd fall asleep with the TV on and sugar headaches buzzing behind our eyes.

But that was then.

Today, I'm choosing peace and quiet.

I'll let them have their bro-time.

Because I, myself, am not a bro.

*

[ POV: Narrator ]

The day dragged.

Andi pottered. That was the only word for it.

She cleaned out the fridge— considered vacuuming, decided she couldn't be bothered, then ended up doing it anyway because she was so bored.

Around mid-day, she'd exhausted her chore list and had done everything there was to do. Needing fresh, boy-free air, she went to sit on her balcony. The sliding door creaked slightly as she pushed it open, the sheer curtains drawing closed behind her — enough to blur the view from inside, which suited her fine. The small balcony wrapped around the edge of the building, tucked just far enough away from the main road that all she could hear was the clinking and chatting from the café below. There was a little round table, two mismatched metal chairs with colourful cushions faded slightly by the sun. A string of fairy lights ran along the railing, as well as a small French flag that she never bothered to take down.