VIPER || Oscar Piastri

Chapter 117

[POV: Narrator]

The room was still dim when Oscar stirred. There were only two sources of light; One, a strip of sun angled through the curtains, catching on the edge of the sheets where Andi was lying on her stomach, legs kicking in the air. The other, her phone glowing in her hands just inches from her face.

She was already laughing. Quiet, suppressed giggles into the pillow.

"Do you mind," Oscar croaked, voice still heavy with sleep.

She ignored him. The giggling only got louder.

Oscar blinked and scooted closer; His hand found the bare skin of her back, where her shirt had ridden up. He pressed a slow kiss to her shoulder. He then kissed her again. Higher this time. Right on the spot that always made her shiver.

But she didn't shiver this time.

She was still pulling goo-goo eyes at her phone.

"I see how it is," he said, nodding. "Ignored for TikTok. Cold."

Without looking, she patted the top of his head like she was soothing a whiny dog. "You had enough yesterday."

"I really didn't."

"Mm." She readjusted her arms under her, propping herself up on her elbows. "You're being greedy."

"You've replaced me for AI. They said that would only happen to cashiers." His hand slipped under her shirt, fingertips skating over the dip of her waist.

"Look, I'm busy. I'm watching edits of you in the rain."

He paused. "Of me?"

"Yeah. They've made you move in slow-motion and everything."

Oscar propped himself up, instantly smug. "Oh. That's fine, then."

He leaned in to see the screen, squinting a little —because the brightness was much too high for how early in the day it was — and for a few seconds, he didn't say anything, didn't even move, just stared in a way-too-still way people do when their brain's trying to catch up to something it definitely doesn't like the look of, until eventually, finally, he blinked, turned his head toward her, and said, in the kind of flat tone that only ever comes right after you've been led astray:

"...That's Jenson Button."

...

"Oh... is it?" she squinted, voice pitched just high enough to sound like she was aiming for innocent but had overshot straight into guilty (as hell) territory. "I don't know how that got there..."

Oscar dropped his face into the pillow and groaned.

She burst out laughing and shoved at the back of his head, fingers ruffling his hair until bits of it stuck up. Still grinning, she rolled off the bed and headed for the bathroom, leaving him to marinate in his own dramatic misery.

He couldn't really be mad, though.

It was Jenson Button, after all.

Oscar heard the shower turn on. It ran for a few seconds uninterrupted, then—

"Shitting hell!"

And then: "#?!@$&!!!"

Followed closely by: "Why are hotel showers so £@%&!£?!!! Who designed this utter #?!@$&!$#?!!!"

The silence that followed was ominous.

"Andi?" he called, eventually.

Nothing.