VIPER || Oscar Piastri

Chapter 107

[POV: Narrator]

Andi sat alone on a high stool in a mostly empty McLaren garage.

The day had ended. The fans were gone. The track was quiet. Outside, the sky had gone that strange dusty blue-grey — the kind that meant the sun was already slipping behind the grandstands, dragging the heat and noise of the day with it. Someone's radio buzzed in the background, tools clicked faintly in another bay, but most of the crew had cleared out, and the ones left weren't paying her any attention.

She tried to stay cheerful.

She tapped her thumb lightly against the edge of the workbench — then a little harder — then realized she'd done it twenty times in a row. Her legs had shifted positions just as often. Crossed, uncrossed. Left ankle over right. Right over left. Feet down. Feet hooked on the stool ring. Arms folded. Arms loose.

None of it was comfortable.

She stared across the garage, trying not to feel like she was waiting. But she had been. For a while now.

The moment she started wondering if she should just go look for Oscar herself — or if she should just leave — the door opened.

Oscar stepped inside, still in his base layer, curls a little damp. He looked rushed. Like he didn't want to be standing there because he needed to be somewhere else.

"They're holding me back," he said quickly, already walking toward her.

She didn't move, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"Something's up with the car. They need extra data before shut-down. They're saying it won't be quick."

Even though Andi made no move towards him, nor did she show that she was willing to accept contact, he reached her and wrapped his arms around her anyway, resting his chin on top of her head. His arms stayed low, pulling her in by her lower back.

Andi blinked. "Oh."

She didn't hug him back. He wouldn't have had time for that, anyway. She just stayed as she was, resting her cheek against his chest.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured.

She nodded, jaw tight. "It's fine."

"It's not."

When she pulled back, she did it slowly — and when she looked up, she was smiling again. That same bright, cheery look she'd been wearing all day.

"You didn't schedule a mechanical issue, Oscar. It's fine."

He was still holding onto her like he didn't quite want to let go. So she stepped back and did it for him, lightly pushing at his shoulder, waving him off.

"Go. The sooner they fix it, the sooner you can escape."

Oscar smiled, jogging a few steps backwards toward the garage door.

"I'll come as soon as I can. I swear. Just—go ahead, and I'll meet you later, okay?"

She gave him another easy grin, casual and sure. "Okay."

He nodded once, then turned and disappeared into the hallway.

Her smile dropped the second he was gone. She sighed, loud and dramatic, tilting her head back toward the ceiling like maybe something up there would explain why the universe hated her so much.

Then she kicked the stool she'd been sat on.

Hard.

It made a horrible clang — solid steel, way heavier than it looked — and pain exploded up her foot.