VIPER || Oscar Piastri

Chapter 116

[POV: Narrator]

By the time the tiny hors d'oeuvres appeared, Andi's mood did an entire 180° flip.

She'd forgotten about the bathroom mishap, and was now leaning slightly over her wine glass, her tone animated as she explained something ridiculously technical to a man in a sharp navy suit who had clearly been cornered into talking about tire degradation. He nodded like he understood, but it was clear he didn't.

Andi didn't care. She was talking for herself at this point.

Across the venue, the party was still going — glittering, loud, expensive — but Oscar wasn't interested in any of it anymore. He was leaned against a high-top table, not listening to whatever Carlos was saying; His attention wasn't on the conversation, and it hadn't been for the last hour.

His eyes were on her.

Andi was across the room — her wine glass was nearly empty, and her legs kept shifting like she was restless.

Oscar watched her cross one ankle over the other, again. He watched as it made the hem of her dress ride up just a bit. She didn't notice; She was too far gone — too flushed from the wine and the lack of air conditioning, too caught up in her own conversation. And Oscar knew her well enough to recognize it.

He made his way over, stepping through the crowd until he reached her. He slid into the seat beside her, his hand resting lightly on the back of her neck, hoping it'd make her acknowledge him, but she didn't.

Not at all.

The man she'd been talking to stood up with a polite smile, excusing himself. Andi looked up just long enough to say, in basic terms 'okay, but come back so I can continue yapping your ears off' before going straight back to her drink.

He laid his hand on her thigh next. Maybe that would give him something, but not a single word escaped her.

"I'm bored," he said.

"Go home then," Andi replied evenly, never acknowledging the hand sliding higher.

She drained the last of her wine and set the glass down. Oscar tilted his head, eyes drifting over the line of her throat as she swallowed.

"Come on. You're restless. You've been squirming in that seat for twenty minutes. You need something to do."

"I am doing something. I'm talking." She shifted away slightly from him, eyes searching the room for her old navy suit friend's return. She wanted to hear his take on what she'd said about lateral degradation.

Oscar leaned back against the wall behind them and watched her — his hand drifting a centimeter or two higher. It made him smirk; the awareness that he was being ignored made him more amused.

He then whispered something in her ear, leaning in to do it.

Finally, a reaction.

Andi reached beneath the table and grabbed his wrist where it rested persistently. Her grip tightened — a warning. But the second she squeezed it, he moved again, his shoulder brushing hers as he whispered something else.

Her spine straightened. "Oscar."

He tilted his head. "What?"