Connections (F1 story)

Chapter Thirtneen: Processing Revelations

"So good." He stated in certainty and looked up at me, smiling warmly.

"I'm glad." I tapped the side of my enormous glass, and knew that I had to drink this concoction slowly otherwise I wouldn't make it back to the hotel in one piece. When I'd ordered a Margarita I hadn't anticipated that it'd be that large. I took a sip and that itself nearly knocked me out. Strong wasn't the word.

We chatted, not mentioning the race nor the phone call- we talked mainly about our home lives and hobbies. I even admitted that my guilty pleasure was Bollywood dancing, something which Daniel found extremely amusing. At least I had made him laugh however embarrassed I was in telling him.

Three drinks later and I checked my phone to see what the time was. I was fairly taken back when I realised that it was ten-to-midnight. "We'd better make a move," I spoke up.

"Yeah, sure. Are we going back?" Daniel replied. We?

"Or I was going to join the others...wherever they are." I laughed halfheartedly. My head span. Too much vodka, Saskia. Well done!

"That sounds good." He nodded in agreement, patting his pocket for his wallet. He had a few beers in his system and seemed to be in a brighter mood.

"One problem...."

"What?"

"I uh...need to change my shoes." It couldn't have sounded more tragic if I had tried.

"Come on, I'm on a winning streak. I'll carry you back if I have to!" He grinned thoroughly and backed up his words with the same amount of force. Game on.

"Yeah, somehow I don't think you'll manage that."

"Shut up, Saskia." He looked at me for what seemed like eternity although was only in reality a couple of seconds. Why did he do that?

I stood up and pulled my dress down ever so slightly from where it had risen up. I pulled out my purse from my bag and put down a generous tip on the glass table. Half a days wages in fact, that was the sort of place it was though. Ricciardo insisted on paying for my drinks and I dreaded to know how much they added up to.

---

"There you are!" Sam saw me approaching him in the club. It was even swankier than the bar I'd just been in with Daniel. It was small compared to the club in Melbourne and could only be accessed by a flight of stairs that led down into the building. It was wallpapered all kinds of colours and the majority of the furniture was glass. I winced at the thought of how often they had to replace it. A lot, with me around, would be the answer. "What the bloody hell have you been doing?" He looked at me then across to Ricciardo who was now standing with Paul.

"I'll explain later. Are you wanting a drink?" I said.

"You bet-"

"Is everyone on shots?"

"Yeah, except Callum. He's apparently not drinking after last time." I'd predicted correctly and ordered a dozen of the things from the bar.

I carried the tray back over to the booth and the guys were drawn to the tequila like children in a sweet shop.

"Three...two...one..." Olly counted down before everyone tipped the vibrant liquid into their mouths. I did too and swallowed quickly before the burning sensation caused me to cough.

"Hey, Sam?" I looked up at him, raising an eyebrow, seductively. If that was possible.

He nodded in reply.

"You still owe me a dance!" I giggled and with that he pulled me onto the floor.

We danced away, getting closer and closer until our bodies were almost touching. It was nothing short of electrifying, and bloody hard work. We continued until my feet couldn't hold my weight anymore. I took one long gaze up at Jones and he returned my look with a kiss. He, like usual, tucked a strand of loose hair behind my ear and nuzzled my neck as he pulled away but I still lingered so he leaned in and repeated the process. Yup, I definitely was going to fall over any second now.