It's the following Summer from where the action left off, and Dan and Saskia are back, creating and causing mayhem. As per.
This time round there's added pressure from Red Bull under performing, a nervous Lizzie and something which is sure to chang...
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Looking at the ridiculously expensive makeup in duty free at an equally ridiculous hour of the night had been becoming a bit of the norm. Daniel was ahead, somewhere, with his teammate as we made our way to the gate. We were on the last flight out to the UK, where Dan and I had a meeting on the Monday before going off to Monaco and then onto Singapore. If anything it was slightly frustrating that a meeting for Dan had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. That way, we couldn't fly straight back to Nice.
"Daniil seems a faction shifty, did he eat tonight?" Rebecca asked, picking a mascara up, noticing the price and putting it back down again, wiping her fingerprint off the gold case.
"Yeah, he ate the same as Daniel. Seafood stir fry, extra chilli." I lifted up the lid of a bronzer tester and wiped my index finger along the powder. It felt magical. "He said he was tired."
"Aren't we all," Rebecca huffed and checked the time on her Casio. "Shit's balls we had better go. I need to go to the toilet though..."
"I'll wait by the fountain and text Lizzie." I said, wondering once again why there was a massive water feature inside an Italian airport. That was Milan for you. "If she's not already passed out on Joe or Sam or Josh or possibly Paul's lap..."
"Any of those are plausible!" Rebecca clapped her hands together and marched off in the direction of the toilets, just as our flight got called for boarding. We were alright; we had a couple of minutes before the airline staff started getting bitchy. "Wait here, if you move then I won't be able to see you in the crowd...you're too short."
"But I've got heels on!" I protested, gesturing for good measure. They were a bit of a pain to do the terminal to gate walk in, but they looked good. And added an extra five centimetres to my height. Win win.
"Still a few inches too small. Trying to locate you in the paddock when you're wearing your trainers is an absolute nightmare."
"Go to the toilet before I become a nightmare." Shaking my head, I waited by the water fountain and began searching around my bag for my phone. I had people to text.
And, people were trying to text me.
"Alright, alright," I cursed, my finger tips brushing my iPhone in amongst all the other shit in there. My bag was most probably sad that I didn't clean it out enough. Tissues...an apple core wrapped up in clingfilm...a packet of paracetamol. It was positively disgusting.
My phone buzzed a few more times but still I couldn't reach it, much to my growing frustration.
"You, on there." I said, putting my bag on the wall of the fountain.
Eh, it could do with a clean anyway.
Several brushes of old pieces of chewing gum and worse for wear lip-glosses, I reached my phone and pulled it out. Just as something flung into the water, landing with a splash.
