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cocoaandco · 3 months ago

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Wildflower - George Russell x f!reader [prologue]

You and Delilah have been friends for years. When Delilah finds out the boy she loves has fallen for someone else, she seeks refuge in your arms. Little does she know you are the very reason for her undoing.

PROLOGUE

You smile as you shut the door to your apartment. The warmth that spread through your body was unmatched. In fact, you began to wonder if you had ever felt such a way before. The grin that was plastered on your face failed to dissipate, as if it had been stretched and glued that way.

You touch your cheeks, feeling how warm they were. How rosy they must have been the entire night, an evening where the blushing was endless. It was the middle of August in Melbourne, most nights had you spending countless dollars on the gas bill in order to heat the house. But tonight was different. No, not tonight. Your body was warm. Like you had been wrapped in an electric blanket and fed the best soup made by your Nonna. That just wasn’t true, though.

Your warmth was a direct result of your happiness. It’s crazy how a man you barely know could make you feel things that men you had allowed into your life and trusted in long term relationships had never come close to creating. You close your eyes, press your back against the, now closed door, and slide down. You bring a hand to your mouth, feeling the smile on your lips and pressing them against your palm before giggling.

God, I must look like a teenage girl! The giggling continues as you bring your hands from your mouth and look down at them, seeing that your lip gloss had smudged itself on your palm. You are startled when you hear a low chuckle sound from the other side of the door, before footsteps boom, growing softer as they moved away from the door and down the hallway. Oh my goodness, you thought to yourself, he just heard my fucking giddy laugh.

Springing to your feet, you move away from the doorway in embarrassment, and head to your kitchen. You switch on the kettle and pull out a stool from under your island bench. You sigh as you finally sit down, you must have walked around Church street for hours. As you wait for the kettle to boil, you think back to the past 24 hours and how the string of events followed through as a result.

————

36 hours prior. Thursday 9.30am

“Dan, I really don’t care about the bullshit corporate boxes. If you don’t release more upper ground seating to the public, we’re gonna have half empty stands to answer for!” You exclaim into your phone, gripping it tighter as if that would sway Dan into agreement.

You worked for the MCG, Melbourne’s biggest sporting venue, and had multiple blockbuster AFL matches to plan for that weekend, the biggest being Friday night’s class between Carlton and Essendon. The two teams are historical rivals that always draw large crowds and today was Thursday, the day before. Supporters from around the state were going nuts on every radio station and media outlet spraying the league for its lack of seating for the match. The problem? The large corporations hoarding the seats for businesses and international clients that had no real interest in the match, taking away from die hard fans.

Who has to deal with this problem? Why of course, it’s you. And the fact that you had gotten the train this morning made your venture that much more aggravating as the quiet roads were filled with electric scooters rather than cars. This probably seems like a boring and rather complex issue, so don’t worry, it is not pivotal to your story, Y/N.

“Y/N, listen. We can’t release those seats, we anticipate a large turnout from the upper tiers-”

“You’re telling me 8,000 seats are being put aside for Melbourne Demons supporters for a Bombers v Blues match?”

“Come on, Y/L/N. You know Demons supporters aren’t the only MCC members.”

“No but they make up the majority. I am doing your job- Shit!” All of a sudden something pushes into your back and you are sprung from the pavement and onto the road. You squeeze your eyes shut as you see a single vehicle plummet towards you. A large black car swerves before jolting to a stop just beside where you have fallen on your face.

You press your palms into the road, and push yourself up. You snap your head in the direction of an electric scooter which has zoomed off after screaming a “Sorry!”

“Fucking idiot!” You scream out. “Ugh!” You kneel down and locate your phone which is actually just a scrap of metal as it has been completely squashed by the wheel on the black car.

“Well, I guess thats a ‘no’ from Dan.” You mutter to yourself. Dusting your skirt off, you examine your outfit for any rips or pulls before returning to the sidewalk. You lift your head to notice the black car has not moved. Shrugging you continue to walk and wave off the car to let it know your alright.

Immediately, the rear passenger door swings open and a tall fair headed man hops out before approaching you. “Are you alright there?” He calls.

You laugh at his accent and continue to walk away from him, towards your office. “I’ll be alright mate, don’t worry about me!”

He frowns down and jogs lightly to catch up. “No seriously, are you okay? You were pushed and fell pretty hard.” You shrug.

“Im alive aren’t I?” He raises an eyebrow, “well you didn’t hit me, your car is alright, I’m in one piece.” He walks with you and motions to your hand, holding what was once your functioning phone.

“I’ll get work to get me a new one, it’s not a big deal.” Thats a lie, your work will not get you a new one.

“No, no. I almost ran you over, let me buy you a new one.” You furrow your eyebrows at him before shaking your head with a chuckle.

“Thats really not necessary, I need to get to work so I’ll just-”

“Well then what about a coffee? Tomorrow perhaps?” He quizzed. This brought you to a halt, which also stopped the tall man. You fold your arms over your chest before looking up to his face. This is the first time you’re able to take in his appearance.

He has wide bright blue eyes and fluffy eyebrows. His nose is large and pointed and he has defined cheekbones with a sharp jawline. His lips are full and pink, complimenting his soft cool brown hair. A gorgeously defined man, he does not look British at all. He wears a classically smart casual outfit that looks like it came straight from an R.M Williams catalogue; refined and sleek.

“Who are you?”

“Erm.” He coughs, “my name is George.”

You raise an eyebrow again, more whimsical this time. He really is quite attractive. “Well, George” you emphasise, “I am now well and truly late for work, and have a very busy couple of days, so if you would excuse me-”

“I’m sorry, I just-” he cuts his own sentence off this time, “I feel really bad, when I saw you fall, immediately felt awful for you and then I watched you get up and you looked so lovely, I felt even worse!”

He concludes and you look at him dumbfounded, quite literally with your mouth parted. You pause for a second. “Alright, so you have only checked on how I’m doing,” you pause again to recollect, “because you think I’m attractive and want to ask me out?”

Without hesitation he grins widely and responds “Precisely.”

This is ridiculous! You think to yourself about how completely absurd this is. You quite literally had almost died five minutes ago. But something inside you felt excited, felt warm. And so, the better part of you prevailed and entertained the idea.

“Alright.” You hum, “walk me to work then, George.”

“Uhh.” He turns back to his car which still is stopped in its same position. He motions for the car to go on with his hand and the car slowly pulls away and drives off without hesitation. Weird. “Okay then, where is work?”

“Just up here! About a five minute walk.”

“Only five minutes?” He smirks down at you as you both begin walking. A smile creeps onto your face before you respond.

“Yes, any longer and I may not have a job or a head if my boss has a say.” He laughs at your sadistic remark.

“What is your name?” He asks.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He tests out, “suits you perfectly.”

You smile in response.

“So what do you do for work, Y/N.”

You explain to him your role with the MCG, particularly how your responsibilities are spread across ticketing and media which somehow meshes into one title. He seems impressed with your extensive knowledge of sporting and passion for fan experiences.

He listens to you talk like you are giving the most captivating speech in world. His eyes peer into yours, you feel heard and understood. Not an ounce of judgement clouding his expression. He was so easy to talk to, you never wanted him to leave.

You quickly learn that your suspicions were correct and that George is, in fact, from the UK. As well as the fact that he has never been to an AFL match in his life. It was even more shocking that he had never even heard of the sport.

“What!” You shriek as you arrive out the front of your office, which is actually inside the MCG. “You’re telling me, you’ve never heard of the AFL?”

He laughs at your hysteria and nods “nope!” He pops his ‘P’.

“Oh my gosh, we have to go to a game!” ‘We’? Pull it together, Y/N! “Let’s um- oh shoot!” You look at your watch. It’s almost 10am. You may be hung when you get inside. “Ok, ok. If you’d like, we can hang out tomorrow.”

George’s eyes light up in excitement. “Really?”

“Yes, yes! If you’re keen.” You double guess yourself, of course he wants to hang out you freak. “If you meet me here, tomorrow night at 7.30, I’ll take you to your first AFL match.

He grins widely, “That would be wonderful.”

“Alright, so I’ll see you then?” You confirm, “I really have to go now, I am sorry.”

“Yes, I’ll meet you here.” You begin to walk away from George, backwards. And towards the sliding doors.

“I would give you my number, but I don’t currently have a phone!” You exclaim.

“Don’t worry, Ill see you tomorrow.” He waved.

“Bye George.” You wave before spinning and speeding inside.

You can’t help but peer over your shoulder one last time to see him watching you walk away with a slight smile on his face.

This is absolutely crazy.

————

You sip on the last of your tea, an hour later, cozied up in bed. The memory of yesterday makes you shiver, but in a good way. George was incredible. You had never known a human to be so welcoming and friendly. He was truly lovely.

As you set your tea aside, and push your supporting pillows off the bed, your body begins to drift into a heavy state of tiredness. Just as your eyes begin to droop close you hear a loud knocking on the door.

What the hell?

You slip out of bed and walk out of your bedroom. As you approach the kitchen you grow nervous. Oh my goodness, George must be a serial killer. You shake your head at your ridiculous conspiracy. You look through the peephole to see a familiar face, with tears streaming down it.

Instinctively, you quickly unlock the door and swing it open. “Delilah!” You exclaim.

She quickly moves inside and engulfs you in a hug as she lets out soft sobs. What has happened to your poor friend? More importantly, why was she here and not back at home in London?

————

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