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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

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His Good Sweater: Chapter 16

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.3k

Recommended song: “The Thrill” by Wiz Khalifa & Empire of the Sun

Your Saturday gets off to a great start when you spot Sylvie lurking in the corner of the garage. The woman pointedly raises an eyebrow at you when she notices you, the simple action setting you on edge. You glare at her in return, having none of it while Pierre suits up.

"Take care of this for me, will you?" Pierre places his cap backwards on your head. You smile, adjusting it so it's out of your eyes.

"I will." You glance over his shoulder before chastely kissing his cheek. You'd deal with Sylvie later; Pierre didn't need any distractions when he was about to get out on track.

"Nope, not acceptable." Pierre kisses your lips, completely unaware of the shit you'd likely catch as soon as he was gone because of it.

You sigh and take half a step back. Having none of it, Pierre places a knuckle under your chin, tipping your face towards him.

"Sylvie making you nervous?" The pad of his thumb sweeping over your jaw gives you something solid to focus on. "I can ask her to leave if she is."

You shake your head. "Not nervous, no. But she's getting under my skin."

Pierre sets down his helmet and waves off Pyry who tries to shove it back in his hands, prepared to address the matter and hash out a solution immediately. "What's going on?"

"It's not a big deal," you try, "I can tell you after practice. You've only got a few minutes until lights out."

"I want to know now, mon amour."

Fighting was pointless. He would stand here until you spilled the beans so you might as well get it over with so he could get out on track. "Fine. Sylvie cornered me Thursday and asked me to lay low this weekend because of some interview you did. She gave me a copy of it but I didn't read it. She said it's bad for your image to be seen doting on me when you've got races to win."

Pierre blinks, head swiveling in slow motion. Sylvie watches your interaction like a hawk, waiting for either of you to slip up. "And you kept this to yourself?"

"I didn't want to distract you. You've got a job to do." A blush creeps up your neck and settles on the apples of your cheeks. "Sylvie was mad enough at me, I didn't want her in your face too."

A muscle in his jaw ticks. "That's bullshit. I stood up for you. That's why she's pissed. I told them you were just as important to me as racing."

Your heart somersaults in your chest. "You said that in an interview? Pierre, that's-"

Pierre drops Sylvie's stare and meets yours. "I love you and I won't apologize for it. I don't have time to talk to her now though- are you okay being here with her until after practice?"

"I'll be okay as long as you top the time charts," you tell him, a smile playing on your lips. When you'd gotten back together you had told yourself nothing would come between the two of you again, up to and including nosy PR agents who couldn't keep their hands out of your business.

"I will, just for you." Helmet in hand, he pecks your cheek before heading to the car. Pierre shoots Sylvie a glare and says something to Pyry before clambering into the car.

Pyry doesn't leave your side for the entirety of practice, chasing off Sylvie each time she tries to approach you. Pierre nearly tops the charts, sitting second fastest on the famed street circuit. Only Max clocked a faster time, which didn't surprise anyone. Pierre's side of the garage erupts when he is wheeled inside and is met with claps on the back and wide smiles from his team.

Confidence radiates from him as he peels off his helmet and thanks his team. A grin from ear to ear splits his face as he makes his way to you before he even bothers to unzip his suit. Before you know it he's swept you in his arms and planted a kiss on your lips.

"It's not first, but I'll take second if you're waiting here when I get back."

"It's only practice," you remind him, swiping away a bead of sweat from his neck with the pad of your thumb. "But you drive like that for quali in a few hours and you might get your first pole."

"What did I tell you?" Sylvie hisses, ruining the moment and sending you crashing back to earth.

Instead of falling into line, Pierre's grip on your waist tightens. "Leave her alone, Sylvie."

"This isn't good for you," the woman insists. "People are saying you've gone soft-"

"I don't care what they say. My results speak for themselves." And they did. Second fastest today in practice, despite Monaco being a track that Pierre generally had a poor record at. "When I start slipping to the back of the pack you can talk to me about it. But even then it's out of your wheelhouse. I don't care what the gossip columns have to say about me-"

Pierre breaks off and you can see the pieces clicking in his head. "You've never cared either, not even when I got demoted. Horner put you up to this, didn't he?"

Sylvie straightens under the weight of Pierre's question, good enough as giving him an answer. "I have a job to do."

"And so do I." His words freeze over, his attitude icy. "How about you back off and let me do it? I don't need another person breathing down my neck. And she certainly doesn't either. And you know what? I'll make you a deal. If I win tomorrow, you leave us alone and keep your nose out of my personal life."

"You'll thank me when your name is out of the tabloids." Bewildered, you stare after her until Pierre's lips meet your temple, the simple gesture sending a tingle down your spine.

"I wish it was easier for us," you murmur, placing a hand on his broad chest as if you were the only two in the garage. "But as long as I have you, it's worth the fight."

"Don't let it get to you. You make me a better racer, no matter what anyone says. You taught me that I have something to fight for. You're the one that picks me up when I don't think I can make it. Without you, I probably would've blown my chance at taking seventh in the championship."

"And I'm the one that tells you when it's time to get your ass back in the car and race your heart out." You grin up at him, not caring for a second who was watching this time when you kiss him. "I expect you to be a pole sitter next time you're back in this garage. I might have already told my mom it was happening, so don't make me a liar."

"If I take pole, will you wear my cap again tonight? Just my cap?"

"That could be arranged."

**********

Pierre may not have taken pole, but qualifying fifth was more than enough reason to treat him to fulfilling his request. With only the Red Bulls, Charles and Hamilton ahead of him, you were confident he could at minimum hold his position, and at best his team would come up with a strategy that saw him undercut one or two of the guys ahead and put him on the podium.

As usual, Pierre gets to the circuit a few hours early to clear his head and walk the track one last time. Since it’s not a mandatory part of his race preparation, you take the opportunity to walk with him. The clouds part just enough for the sun to shine down on him, practically glowing in the light. Apparently not even the celestial bodies were immune to his beauty, coming out solely to appease him. Your gaze eats up the curve of his throat as he tips his head back to enjoy the golden rays warming his skin.

“Beau Rivage,” he murmurs as you come up to the right hand bend. “One of the few spots for overtaking, if you’re lucky.” Pierre studies the pavement, noting where patches of gravel had built up and toeing them with his shoe. His commitment was something to behold; not even Max could be bothered with a track walk on Wednesday, and forget about waking up with the dawn to participate in an optional one on race day.

Pierre was different though, throwing himself into the sport and refusing to commit anything less than a hundred percent. That commitment was one of the things that had drawn you to him in the first place and continued to be something you admired. You missed him when you were apart, but hearing the thrill in his voice when he spoke about racing lines or braking points never failed to remind you that he was living his dream and you would never stand in his way.

You thread your fingers through his, soaking it in as he walks you through the track. This wasn’t an opportunity you had often and you were determined to embrace and enjoy it.

“Massenette and Casino Square. This braking zone is tricky, if you go too wide you’ll lose seconds of time and probably a good chunk of your front wing, unless by some miracle you miss the barrier.”

Having little to offer to his assessment, you rest your head on his shoulder as you walk. You try to see the track through his eyes, picturing the cockpit around you as you attempt to pick out an adequate braking point.

You continue on in amiable silence, stopping once or twice so Pierre can take pictures with fans and chat with them. Eventually you come to a corner you recognize, one of the most infamous.

“I know this one.” You puff out your chest, holding an imaginary microphone to your lips. “The Lowes hairpin. Slowest corner on the calendar. The cars decelerate to 65 kph, a feat achieved nowhere else.”

Pierre throws his head back and laughs, making your heart stutter. You never wanted to go another day without hearing the full-bellied sound, rich and rife with more happiness than should be humanly possible. “You only know that because Crofty and Brundle bring that up every race, don’t you?”

“Maybe.” You beam back at him when he shakes his head, the action more to say I knew it than to express disappointment. Because he could never be disappointed in you, especially not for taking an interest in what he loved. You tended to queue up archived races to listen to in the background as you studied, meaning it was inevitable that some of the quips from the commentators rubbed off on you sooner or later.

“Now this is my favorite,” Pierre says, adjusting his cap to keep the sun out of his eyes.

“The swimming pool chicaines? Why?” They were considered boring by most racers, flat out but navigable by muscle memory if you’d had enough practice.

Pierre’s self assured grin leaves you in a puddle on the pavement. “Cause I’ll be jumping in that pool today, and I’m taking you with me.”

"I don't think so." You point to the hoodie you wore, one that you had stolen from his closet ages ago and since refused to give back under any circumstances. "I'm in irreplaceable gear. I don't want to ruin it."

Pierre rolls his eyes, dropping your hand in favor of slinging an arm around your shoulders. "I love it when you wear my clothes. My hat yesterday, my hoodie today, anything really. I love having that claim on you."

"If only I could get you to wear some of mine," you muse as the pit boxes come into view.

"If you ask nicely, I'd consider it."

The garage is thrumming with anticipation before Pierre even enters. Checo’s engine penalty is all anyone can talk about, his subsequent start from the pit lane meant Pierre would effectively move up a place and start fourth.

Pierre is whisked away as soon as Tost spots him, the warm old man greeting you before stealing your boyfriend away. You know your way around well enough to be comfortable, staking out your spot along the back wall to observe the team's preparations. The early wake up call was quickly catching up with you however, your lack of movement causing you to stifle a yawn with the back of your hand.

"You look like you could use a coffee."

A young woman about your age steps into your line of sight and holds out a steaming foam cup. "Er, sure, thanks."

"Alana," she says, sticking her hand out for you to shake. "I'm one of the junior engineers for the team. I've seen you around once or twice, I figured it was about time I introduced myself."

"Thank you for the coffee, Alana." You lift the cup in mock salute and take a sip, the contents rich and flavorful. "I swear, I don't know what you guys lace this with, but it's addictive as hell."

The two of you share a laugh that earns you a few confused glances. "I think we're gonna be great friends," she says, tapping her own cup against yours. "It's nice to see another woman around the paddock. Sometimes it gets a little testosterone heavy."

You nod, taking another swig. You can practically feel the caffeine working, already a little more alert than you were minutes ago.

"It's great luck."

"Pierre moving up a place?"

Alana laughs, her ponytail swaying as she shakes her head. "No, I meant you being able to attend the race. You picked the best weekend to be trackside, the podium celebrations are the best."

Pierre startles you by snaking an arm around your waist and planting a kiss on your cheek.

"There's our star," Alana says, her smile bright and optimistic. "Better bring your team another trophy! The next one is going in the engineering department, they already have a little plaque made up and everything. I can see it right from my desk."

"Oh I'll bring one home," he replies, his hand casually grazing your ass as he moves to stand beside you. "I already promised her I would and I'm a man of my word."

"I know you will."

"You have those time tables I asked about?"

"They're in the engineering suite." Alana hooks a thumb over her shoulder and smiles at you. "You're welcome to come back with us. He concentrates better when you're around anyway."

"Are you sure?" Red Bull never let you anywhere near proprietary data. You and any of Max's guests had always been corralled into the vip suite with the occasional venture down into the garage when they were wrapping up.

"You're part of the family," Alana explains as if it was obvious. "Of course I'm sure."

Pierre grins and gives your hand an encouraging squeeze. His team knew he wanted you near and they were willing to bend the rules to make it happen. "We'll try not to bore you to death."

You sit through a half hour worth of numbers and codes you didn't understand, your arm slung around the back of Pierre's chair. He offers tidbits and asks questions while Alana and the other engineers walk him through scenarios, ensuring he has everything down. The way he spoke was quite possibly the hottest thing you've ever had the pleasure of witnessing, aside from post race Pierre with his sweaty hair sticking up in every direction and an adrenaline infused smile on his red cheeks.

Before you know it the two of you are ushered off to his driver's room, Pierre changing into his fireproofs and suit while you treat yourself to some of the snacks lying about. Pyry knocks just as Pierre zips his suit up to his chin.

"Hunt 'em down," you say, resting your forehead to his and stealing a moment for the two of you.

"Always do."

And god, does he ever.

Ten laps in, Hamilton is complaining about the balance of his Mercedes, the gap between himself and Max is only a few seconds and rapidly decreasing. The headphones you wear allow you to catch snips of driver radio and team communications, and you gather that Hamilton is slowly losing power. No one is sure if it's an electronics issue or an engine issue but they aren't complaining either.

Flawless pit stops from most teams see little shift in track positions, Pierre still holding fast to P4 a little over halfway through the seventy eight laps. Alpha's stellar strategy sees him rejoin fifth after sliding into the pits for a set of mediums to take him to the end of the race.

"Gap to Norris three seconds ahead," comes the voice in your ear.

Pierre clings tight to the rear of Lando's papaya McLaren ahead, using DRS to his advantage and practically toying with the younger racer, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

Three short laps later, Pierre skirts around the McLaren at Beau Rivage and reclaims fourth.

Hamilton's ability to stretch tire performance to the maximum means he gets ten more laps before he's in the pits, Max closing in on his track position. The Mercedes crew stumbles, the pit stop more than twice as long as it should be, and Hamilton rejoins fourth.

"In the podium places," Pierre's engineer states.

Seconds later, white smoke pours from Max's Red Bull and he pulls off, causing a yellow flag and bunching up the pack.

P2, with only the Ferrari standing between Pierre and a win.

"Easy pickings Pierre, choose your moment."

Your heart pounds and your nails bite into your palms as Pierre goes around the outside at the hairpin, the entire garage shouting when he somehow gets away clean and the Monegasque backs off enough for Pierre to take the lead.

"P1 mate, two laps to go, two laps."

Pierre's brisk copy tells you all you need to know. He wasn't about to let this win slip through his fingers. Neck craned up at the screen, you watch as Pierre fights tooth and nail to fend off his friend, gasping audibly when a slight lockup nearly causes the two to collide around a chicane.

When he crosses the line, all you hear is a staticy scream.

Pierre Gasly, you are a Monaco Grand Prix winner!

It almost doesn't feel real how everyone around you begins jostling for the podium, their momentum carrying you along. A combination of luck and skill had seen him skyrocket to the top.

When you finally catch a glimpse of him in parc ferme, he stands atop the halo, arms spread wide amongst the deafening cheers of both Red Bull sister teams. Pressed between sweaty bodies, his team all push to the front to be the ones to congratulate him.

You blink back hot tears. Pierre had fought incredibly hard to be on that top step, not just today but the entire season. Being demoted from Red Bull last year had been a backhanded blow, one that when coupled with his insistence on going back to the team in the future had warranted a feeding frenzy of media that ebbed and flowed as rumors surfaced. He'd been under the microscope ever since, struggling to keep his head above water but managing to come out on top.

Someone pushes you forward just as he takes off his helmet, his grin wild and unrestrained. Your mouth is open, his name on the tip of your tongue when a hand closes around your arm.

"This isn't your moment," Sylive says, near shouting to be heard over the roar. "No one wants to see you up there in the frame. This is his podium, let the media see that."

This woman really wanted to be knocked out, didn't she?

"He just won the prix." Dumbfounded at her audacity, you shake your head. "Leave us alone, he won."

"He could win the championship and I would still tell you to back off. There's hundreds of cameras out there, do you even have it in you to hold yourself together when they're all flashing at you?"

If she had asked you that question a few months ago, the answer would have been no, absolutely not. Now that you'd been to hell and back it was an entirely different story. You could walk through the throng and come out the other side unscathed if you had your best friend and partner at your side. He would shield you for the worst of it, be their punching back in order to make the burden bearable.

"Sylvie, if you don't get your hands off me-"

"Oh, sure," she says, releasing you with a smile. "He's already gone anyway. I only needed a minute."

Brow furrowed, you investigate her claim to find the truth of it. Pierre was already being herded away towards the podium, toweling off the residual sweat and setting his helmet on the provided stand. He throws one last glance over his shoulder before climbing the steps to the podium, his baby blue eyes cloudy when they should have been sunny.

Pierre's team principal calls your name as the boys take their places on the steps, gesturing for you to join him at the barriers. "Where were you? He was looking for you."

"No, I know," you start, shaking your head and gazing up at your racer. "Sylvie has it in her head that I shouldn't be photographed with him-"

"Say no more," Tost says, then pauses as the crowd claps. "I've never liked her."

"You and me both," you say under your breath as the anthems play.

Pierre's hungry gaze scours the crowd for you, hands folded neatly behind his back while he bounces on his feet. When he finally spots you in Tost's shadow his shoulders straighten the tiniest bit, like he had been half expecting you to be absent. The pride in his posture is reflected in your smile, a fact that he picks up on and leverages to shine even brighter.

Absently, you register the shutter of a camera going off as you beam up at Pierre. Your winner locks eyes with you before popping the cork of his champagne and spraying his fellow podium sitters, Daniel and Charles, before taking a long swig. Daniel blows a kiss to his girlfriend who mimes catching it and tucking it away while Pierre simply wraps Charles in an embrace, marveling in their first shared Formula 1 podium.

Pierre is surprisingly the first to leave, stalking off with his trophy and bottle in hand before the cameras have even stopped rolling. You track his progress, the crowd slowing him like he was a marble trying to sink through molasses. His thanks are short, his smile tight as he makes his way to you, eyes locked on his target and utterly unwilling to yield.

You meet him at the barrier which you still haven't been allowed to cross thanks to security taking their job far too seriously. Pierre doesn't care, tucking his trophy under his arm and unhooking a section so that you can slip through.

A laugh bubbles out of you when he wraps you in a bone crushing hug, lifting you off your feet and spinning in circles. Taking his face in your hands you kiss him passionately, wholly aware of the cameras on you. This was your moment to share with him; your universe had narrowed to his arms around you and the sweat-slick skin beneath your fingers.

"Congratulations," you murmur against his lips. "How's it feel to be a Monaco grand prix winner?"

"Better now that I've gotten to hear you say it." The brim of his Pirelli cap gets in the way when he tries to kiss you again and he turns it around.

"You gonna celebrate tonight, race winner?" The endearment works just as you had wanted it to, pride and something more primal flashing in his eyes.

His voice drops, his wicked grin already causing heat to pool in your core. "I have a few ideas."

"Me too." Now that the crowd has disappeared somewhat, you grow bold and nip at his lower lip. It sends a thrill through you to rile him up so publicly, his fingers tightening on your hips in surprise.

"Mon amour, you stop that right now." The slight shake in his voice betrays his true feelings. "I still have to weigh in and debrief."

"Maybe I want you thinking of me while you're there." You wrap your arms around his neck, grinning when he gulps. "Thinking of all the things I'll let you do when you get back to the apartment. Charles will be gone all night partying with Ferrari, I'm sure. We'll have the place to ourselves."

"We've got a full night ahead of us." He grins, tongue darting out over his lips. "We've got the winners dinner too."

You tip your head to the side. "Winners dinner? I don't-"

Someone calls his name and you both look in their direction. A race official, clearly fed up with your little display of love, waves Pierre over.

"Duty calls." Reluctantly, Pierre sets you back on your feet and passes off the champagne before he retreats to answer questions or whatever it was the official needed from him.

Watching him walk away, all you can think about is getting him back to the apartment. But first, you'd drag it out as much as he'd let you.

*********

Pierre spends the entirety of the debrief locked in an unending battle between thinking of you in compromising positions and actually giving feedback to his team. It wasn't his fault that you planted the seed in his mind; he couldn't help but expand on what your dirty little lips had whispered in his ear once he finally found you after the podium.

"Okay, I think that's all we have. See you all at the pool in an hour," Alina says, and Pierre practically rips off his headset and sprints back to his driver's room. He bursts in without stopping to knock, earning him a yelp as you drop your phone on your face.

"Ow. A warning would be nice."

"I don't care," Pierre breathes, locking the door behind him and crossing to where you lay on the couch in a few long strides. "I've got an hour till I'm due to make an appearance for the cameras at the pool, care to make it memorable?"

"Oh, I don't know." You pick your phone back up and continue scrolling through it after giving him a once over. Leaving his race suit on and half undone served dual purposes: he didn't have to change again before the photo op at the pool and it drove you crazy. Apparently, his plan hadn't worked as well as he had hoped. "I kinda like seeing you all worked up."

"Come on," he practically whines, dropping to his knees to meet your glinting eyes. "Please?"

"I think you can wait." The corners of your mouth tug up and it's all he can do to resist leaning forward dragging your full bottom lip between his teeth. Energy still thrums through him, the adrenaline not yet faded.

Noting his stare, you roll your eyes. "Okay, one kiss-"

He doesn't let you finish, leaping on the opportunity to get a tiny sliver of what he wants. His tongue prods your lip and he groans when you open and allow him to explore. Hands glide over your hips while yours find his shoulders, nails digging in through the thin material of his fireproofs. Without breaking the kiss Pierre slots himself above you, a leg on either side of yours and caging your head between his forearms where they rest on the arm of the couch.

When he grinds his hips against yours in search of any sort of relief, you turn your head to the side. Pierre doesn't care, simply trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down your neck. The building could be burning to the ground around him and he wouldn't move, too enraptured by you to be bothered.

"Pierre, my love, be patient." You push lightly at his chest and he finally breaks away, chest heaving. God, he needed you. Hadn’t stopped thinking about you once since he crossed that finish line in first. "Where's that unwavering self restraint you show on the track?"

"I'm not racing." He possessed no self restraint when it came to you. In your presence every sane thought flew out the window, replaced by the sound of your laugh and the shape your mouth made when you said his name.

"Waiting makes it sweeter," you tease, the phrase jangling something loose in his brain. He had said the same thing months ago when your roles had been reversed. If he could go back in time and slap himself upside the head for uttering those words, he would.

Pierre sits up with a huff and pulls you into his lap. "No fair. I just won a race, at Monaco no less, and you're gonna tell me I have to wait when you're sitting here looking perfectly edible?"

You tip your head back and laugh. "I am, because I know you'll enjoy it more tonight."

"But we have the drivers dinner too-"

You put a finger to his lips, which he immediately bites softly. "Be patient. I know you can do it, big boy."

Pierre groans, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head fall forward to rest on your sternum. "I'm going to remember this."

Your traitorous fingers wind in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. "How about a massage while you wait, hmm? Would that calm some of this energy you've got built up?"

"No," he grumbles, pressing a kiss to your chest. "That'll make it worse."

"Well then I think it's a perfect idea." Pierre makes you work for it, forcing you to peel his hands off your hips one at a time before you can stand. "Fireproofs off and on your tummy, come on then."

Pierre obeys, eagerly tossing his shirt across the room. He knew he'd regret it and your teasing would leave his head spinning, but anything that got him closer to you was acceptable.

"Lay down."

The command stirs something in his chest. He kisses you once before pillowing his arms under his head and allowing you to straddle his thighs. Your knuckles work at the stiff cords of muscle along his spine and he doesn't tamp down on the small noises of pleasure that start in the back of his throat. Once in a while you lean forward to press a kiss to his bare back, each one setting off a chain reaction in him that goes straight to his cock.

When you reach the base of his spine, he goes completely limp under your fingers. "Merde," he whispers, both a plea and a praise. "Right there, baby."

Something had been digging into his back during the race and it caused a knot to form by his left hip. A low moan escapes him before he can stop it and you hum in approval.

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

"So good," is all he manages to get out around the noise in his brain. His head is filled with your touch, reducing him to ash beneath you. You work at the spot until it's pliable, sweeping your thumb over it once more for good measure. You finish up with his back and move to his arms, dancing over the swells of muscle like you'd been a masseuse your entire life.

"God, where did you even learn this? You're better than Pyry."

"YouTube. And that's because it's different when it's someone you love versus your trainer. I can drag it out and let you enjoy it more."

He's completely lost track of time when the alarm on his phone goes off, signaling the end of this current round of torture.

"You know you're coming with me to the pool," Pierre says matter of factly as you climb off him. He stands and rolls his shoulders, bouncing on his toes. "I feel like a brand new man."

You guide his fireproof shirt back over his head after retrieving it from wherever you'd tossed it earlier. You zip his race suit up with a wink that almost makes hims say fuck it and miss the event entirely. "Glad I could be of assistance."

Hand in hand, Pierre leads you through the paddock and falls in with the Alpha team as they head for the swimming pool. Being around his crew again brings the excitement of his win back to the surface and he's practically buzzing with it by the time they arrive at the gate. Journalists, photographers and a few of his fellow drivers mingle about the packed space, some of them clapping him on the back and offering praise. None of it truly registers until Max, usually hot-headed after a DNF like he had suffered today, pulls him in for a hug.

"Great racing, mate. You deserved that one, that's for sure."

"You better play nice with him next year Max." You wag your finger at the Dutchman, earning you a chuckle. "Or I'll have to take matters into my own hands."

"Now that's something I'd pay to see: you versus Christian Horner. A mighty fight."

Not wanting to jinx it, Pierre doesn’t comment on your confidence that he’ll be on Max’s team next year. His win today had seen him move up comfortably into eighth, and he was closing in on Lando quickly. As long as he played his cards right and finished higher up in the points, he was starting to think he could pull it off.

Pierre doesn't note Sylvie's approach until she clears her throat and all three of you turn in tandem. Pierre picks up on the way your demeanor instantly shifts from light and playful to defensive and he puts himself between the two of you.

"Photo op time."

"Right yeah." Pierre squeezes your hand in farewell and follows Sylvie to where a spot has been cleared at the head end. Standing there before the water, Daniel's dramatic belly flop comes to mind and Pierre knows he has to top that celebration or he'll never hear the end of it.

Someone- maybe you, he couldn't quite tell- starts a chant of his name, growing louder and louder until it reaches a fever pitch. His cheeks hurt from smiling so wide and he spreads his arms, his head falling back and eyes sliding shut as he lets the chant wash over him. Letting it sink in that he stood on the top step of the podium at the most legendary track in Formula 1, his name now joining the likes of Senna and Schumacher as Monaco grand prix winners.

He's drunk on it, on the screams and the shouts and the general feeling of being on top of the world and being untouchable.

Head dizzy, he searches for you, shooting you a wink when he spots you crouched right on the edge of the pool. God, you were gorgeous, wearing his hoodie with his logo splashed across the front and your cheeks flushed from the height of the moment.

Pierre takes a few steps back and gets a running start to leap into the pool, tucking his knees to his chest and cannonballing in. The water closes over his head and everything is dull for a split second before he pushes off the bottom and surfaces, cheers assaulting his senses in the best way.

Laughing, he shakes out his hair and poses for a few of the cameras pointed at him. In that moment he doesn't care what Sylvie or Christian or anyone for that matter thinks, all he wants is to share this euphoria with you, for you to be enthralled by it as he is.

The waterlogged suit makes it hard to swim but he manages, crossing to you and pushing off the concrete lip of the pool to capture your lips. Your hands immediately fly to cup his jaw as hoots and hollers surround the two of you as he irrevocably tells the world that you're his.

Alpha crew members take the kiss as their cue to jump in, splashing you with water as you laugh. Pierre doesn't give you a chance to protest, rising up and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you in with him.

You squeal in his arms, shoving against his chest as you both laugh. "Pierre!" His name on your tongue does nothing to dampen the feel of your waterlogged body against his, nowhere near as chastising as he knew you'd tried to sound. He loves you more than ever at that moment, wants to live here on this Sunday forever, replaying the past twelve hours for the rest of his life.

Celebrations continue around him, but he has eyes only for you. He studies the way your nose scrunches up when Alana splashes you and how droplets of water catch on your eyelashes.

Reaching out, he tucks a wet lock of hair behind your ear, garnering your attention. You ruffle Pierre's hair and he knows that you're just as caught up as he is.

Placing a hand on the back of your neck, he draws you in for another long, drawn out kiss. “You’re my trophy.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz @xeniarocks @teenwaywardasgardian @saintandrea-droidsmuggler

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future updates!

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly fanfiction #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfic #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #formula 1 rpf #f1 rpf #reader insert #pierre gasly reader insert

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gingerxarmy · 3 years

Text

Falling In Love MV&LN

a/n - this is an midnight thing of me trying to cope with stuff. hope you enjoy! hah

Reader x Max Verstappen & Lando Norris

Inspired by; Hopeless romantics - James TW

Words: 1800+

You having falling out of love with one, but, falling in love with an other.

Some People say the art of love is one of the most beautiful things in the world. The process of pinning after one person, to grow with them and if you're lucky, have them with you until your days are count. But all beautiful things have a dark behind. The moon, which is one of the most beautiful and calm things we have on this planet, has a dark side. No-one can know what's on it for sure.

Love has actions and words. Your significant other can give you flowers, but they can also give you bruises. You can have sweet nonsense whispering in your ear when you are watching a movie, or they can tell you lies you so desperately want to hear.

But the most painful thing about love is when one of the two people is falling out of it. What are you supposed to do when the exciting feelings are fading away, when you no longer can have them staying with you. When whatever you do or say are no longer enough. The heartache is one thing everyone experiences in the name of love. Even if you are living a loving life, the death you vow will make sure you are apart.

But when you are the one who can’t stand to be with him anymore. All you wanted to do was wish for a moment to make sure you could get into an argument and get him to hate you, just so this wouldn’t hurt as much as it did. He had been perfect. Everything he had done was for your preference, so you could be happy. But in the end, your feelings faded. It hurt, it really did, but when one goes - another comes along. It’s always a shift. The worst part was that they were friends, best friends even.

You’ll never forget about the time you meet him and how inlove you were from the first eye contact. You had met Max one evening in Monaco when you were on a vacation with three of your girl friends. You had been walking on the streets of Monte Carlo in search of a Café. After almost thirty minutes walking in circles you decided on Scala Green Café, neither of you had heard about it before, but it was calm and in need of something to drink thanks to the heat outside you took a table and ordered a drink each.

You had lovely conversations about the city you are vacationing in and as usual, for four single ladies, it turned quickly to the cute guys you’ve seen on your walk earlier. You had all agreed on one particular man you had seen not too far from the café who had taken home the price of the most handsome one. With his broad muscle building and determined steps it had made it quite hard to not look at him. His face and hair was hidden under the cap he had been wearing, which was a shame, you all agreed on.

You had a nice conversation on planning the remainder of your trip when the doorbell for the Café called. Three muscular men in t-shirts and shorts made their way to the cashier. Probably asking for a table. Your conversation died down when the waiter led them to a table in your direction. Looking after them when they passed, not really caring if they were aware that you and your friends were staring or not, and trying not to droll.

“What is it with handsome men in this city?” One of your friends asked. Your group started to giggle but you soon interrupted when the doorbell called once more and the man with the cap stepped in through the door, looking around before seeing the three men who just walked next to you. The difference with this man was that he could feel you staring and your eyes meet for a short moment. But long enough for you to start to blush, hiding from his gaze you took a sip from your drink.

“You made eye contact with him. Didn’t you?” Your friend to the right of you said and gave your shoulder a squeeze. You nod your head and turn around trying to find the guy who just walked past. But to your luck/misfortune he was already looking at you, and for a second time in less than ten minutes you had made eye contact and he had made you blush.

That café wisit had ended with a tissue with a phone number and a name, Max. You could never have thought that two moments of eye contact and a tissue could give you two amazing years of love. Max Verstappen had taught you about Formula One and everything about the sport that you now loved with a passion. When race weekends didn’t clash with your job you would be with him for support and for yourself and the adrenaline rush from watching the race from the teambuilding.

Your relationship was amazing, you had your fights like every couple had. But when the new rookie trio came along in 2019 and you found yourself hanging with when Max went out with the youngest one of them three. Lando Norris had become a big part of your life when he and Max started to play games and stream together in their spare time. And when you got invited to chat with the two when they were playing games, things started to escalate.

It wasn’t something big, Max knew you two were close friends, but when normal conversations started to become more flirty and when you started to find yourself thinking about Lando more often and not only in a platonic friendship way you started to think about your relationship with Max.

And here you are, trapped between two wonderful men with a mind drawn between them two. Would you just block Lando and try to find your happiness with Max and try to fall in love again? Or would you talk to Lando about what you feel for him and tell Max how you’re no longer in love with him. Whatever you come up with you couldn’t get rid of the feeling of disappointing one or not both of them.

That evening Max felt something was up with you. You, who always talked about your day, were now sitting quiet and not eating your food. Of Course he would get worried, you knew it.

“What’s wrong, love,” he asked. Love, it hurt.

“I think we need to talk.” You pushed away the food. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll always love you. What’s this about?” He reached forward for your hand but you couldn’t bring yourself to let him take it. Instead you put your hands in your lap and let your gaze rest on them. Fiddling with your fingers.

“I will always love you Max. But I don’t think I’m in love with you anymore. I’m so sorry, you haven’t been anything but lovely and kind to me. But I think our time is up.” A single tear escaped your eye when you lifted your gaze and met Max’s eyes.

“I had already guessed it, even though I didn’t want to believe it. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. And he would be really lucky to have you.” This time you let him take your hand. Releaf wash over you and you give him a broken smile. “And I’ve been texting this girl, and before you think anything, no. It was always friendly but now when I know for sure that you like Lando I may give her and I a try.”

“I think you should,” you give Max’s hand a squeeze before letting his hand go, giving yourself one more moment before letting him go.

“You and Lando need to invite me to your wedding later on, alright?” You two start to laugh at this. The eaze going conversation coming back between the two of you.

A couple of weeks later you followed Max to Monaco GP, where everything started between the two of you, your journey could have an ending there years later. He had invited the girl he had been talking to as well, or, you had invited the girl he had been talking to because you were dying to know how had his heart now when you no longer had it. She was kind and you two shared a couple of laughs during the grand prix weekend. Max was in safe hands.

“Okay, so, Lando’s waiting!” Max said later that evening. Max, Carlos and Lando had shared the podium today and you couldn’t be more proud of the three of them.

“Isn’t it meant for you to be out celebrating your first podium and win in Monaco?” You say before giving him a hug. Even though you no longer are a couple you are great friends. The platonic love is still there.

“Yes, and you are coming with. And so is Kelly. Come on!” Max dragged you off to a car where the others were waiting. And Max, being the matchmaker he is, made you sit next to Lando on the short way to the Bar someone of the drivers had shoosed. Probably Daniel if you could say it yourself.

“You and Max broke up?” Lando dared to ask later when the group of people had gotten a couple of shots.

“Yeah, our time together ran out. It was mutual so no hard feelings or anything. And I’m really happy about it. I really thought we were going to end on bad terms. And now I’m rambling!” You put a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from talking. But all Lando could do was laugh. Oh, God, that laugh.

“So if you two are no longer a couple I can do this without having to risk my head.” Lando leans in and you two share a kiss. Your hand finds its way over to his curls and his hands make it way down your back, making you move closer to him.

“If I was you I would still be careful of your head,” you say as you make eye contact with Max.

“If you're breaking her heart, Mate. I’m breaking you!” Max screams over the loud music in the club and makes the others look in your direction. “Oh, and don’t forget about that wedding invitation you promised me!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, happy that you got the man your heart wanted and still have your best friend by your side. You lean in and steal a kiss from Lando once more before leaning into him, laying your head on his shoulder and start to speak with the people you are out celebrating for the night.

#max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen one shot #formula one #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris fanfiction #ln4 #mv33 #f1 imagine

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softforcal · 5 years

Text

Monte Carlo : Racecar driver!Cal

Summary: They've been going to the same bar for a while, but have never talked. Then, across the globe, they meet at a club. He's there for a formula one race, she's there as an Instagram promoter for The Grand Prix. Angst and slow-burn ensues.

Word Count: 14k

Warnings: some smut

Tropes: Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Angst, ft. Harry Styles

note: I started writing this when i first got into f1 so it's not 100% correct on how f1 operates but that's ok. Also I’m not from New York but i tried my best lol

Nascar stuff to watch if you want a full experience: Hot Lap, Champagne popping.

****************

She’d met him in a bar.

It wasn't a southside bar. The carpets weren’t stained by booze, ashes from used cigarettes and various human fluids, whether that be blood or sweat or whatever else landed on the floor in a dodgy hole in the wall.

Yet, it wasn’t a North Side bar either. They didn’t have the most expensive bottles of whiskey, no ‘hints of aged oak’ or bottles boasting of being over a hundred years old.

No, it was a middle ground. People loitered outside, men in leather smoking with the bouncers. The women there wore strappy heels and weren’t afraid to kick them off to play a game of pool. It was perfect, and there was nowhere else Celeste would have rather been.

The charm of the bar wasn’t even really the bar itself, but a certain regular.

His arrival was always signaled by the scent that would rush into the bar when a bouncer opened the door for him. The stuff he smoked always seemed to smell different, the type of sweetness that was edged, the type of sweetness that told you not to get too close.

No one could help but look at him when he entered. He was beautiful, the type of guy who could afford to relax in a North Side bar where the extra cost for drinks bought you more discreet eyes.

He never seemed to mind the eyes though, and Celeste wasn’t surprised, after all, she supposed a racecar driver of his stature would be used to it by now.

She’d thought he was cute before the bartender had even mentioned that the gorgeous brunette was a famous race car driver. Celeste wasn’t the type to watch cars, whether they be NASCAR or formula one. Hell, she didn’t even know the difference between the two - didn’t particularly care.

Celeste could understand the man - she wasn’t sure of his name - she wasn’t too picky about being seen either. Both of them were young and alive, chasing dreams and becoming successful at an early age.

The driver must have been twenty-three or four, already a known winner. If Celeste could remember correctly, she thought she’d heard he was one of the drivers for Ferrari, which sounded prestigious.

Celeste was twenty-two and at the cusp of finding stardom in the world of modeling. She’d been discovered by a recruiter at aged sixteen and bounced around smaller brands before landing a gig with Victoria’s Secret. Although she’d yet to walk their runway, one of the designers had showed her picture to a friend and just like that, Celeste had become the muse for one of the biggest fashion brands in North America.

She supposed she was lucky, blessed really, to have been in the mall the day the recruiter discovered her.

And likewise, she supposed the driver was fortunate to have been introduced to driving at a young age.

So there the two of them were, two young stars shortening the vicinity between themselves every Friday night or so. Close but not touching, never meeting.

Later in her life, Celeste would wonder if it was odd for the other patrons who frequented the bar. If it was odd for them to be minding their own business and have not one, but two, semi-famous people just decide ‘this is my chosen bar.’ But in those moments when Celeste accepted a challenge in pool, playing against other drunk university girls, Celeste was just one of the people who’d found a little slice of home in a midtown bar.

***

Calum swirled the whiskey in his glass, taking a deep breath and turning so his back was leaning against the bar top. His eyes found her immediately. She was the type of girl that stood out. Even if he hadn’t been told by his favourite bartender that the girl was a model, he could have guessed.

It was hard to tear his gaze from her as she bent over the pool table to line up a shot. Her little jean shorts hugged her ass perfectly, and the way her thighs were pressed against the table made Calum lick his lips. She wasn't a typical model, or at least didn’t have the thinner body type. She was what his friends would call slim thicc, and Calum ate it up every time she entered the bar.

The girls she was playing with were obviously university students from the school down the road. Calum had seen them once or twice, they liked to get drunk and play pool. They were also obviously fans of the model, and to the models credit, she was very kind to them any time they approached her.

“You should go talk to her.” the bartender suggested, “two pretty people like you, it makes sense.”

Calum smirked against the rim of his glass, humming absentmindedly, “does it?”

“You should do it soon, you know everyone’s been taking bets on when you end up talking to her, who approaches who.”

“Really?” Calum turned to look at the bartender.

“No, but it’s a good idea, maybe I should start that up.” he paused, “come on man, you’re a regular, she’s a regular. You’ve both been coming in for what? Six months now? Most Fridays? Except for when you’re off in Italy or Mexico or wherever, winning trophies and she’s doing modeling gigs. The two of you would make sense together.”

Calum shot the last mouthful of whiskey, setting the glass down, “no we wouldn’t.” he stated, tossing a bill onto the counter. He didn’t look up at the bartender, instead, he grabbed his leather jacket that had been thrown over a bar chair and shrugged it on. It was warm and worn, and Calum produced a joint from inside one of the pockets, tucking it behind his ear and amongst his dark curls. His trusty lighter was in his hand by the time he was pushing the door open to escape the bar.

The cold air wrapped around him and Calum’s nimble fingers moved the joint from behind his ear to his lips, the lighter flicking on. He took a long drag and his eyes closed, the warm feeling wrapping around him pleasantly.

He knew he was being a pussy.

Knew that sixth months was six months too many for him to be in the same vicinity of a girl like that and not make a move. Calum liked to take his time with women, which is why he enjoyed going to the bar alone.

His friends didn’t get it. They were all about driving fast, living fast and fucking fast.

Calum would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy speed, he was a fucking racecar driver for Christ’s sake. One of the fastest in the world, if his last race was anything to go by.

But when it came to women? Well with women, Calum liked to go slow.

Besides, he was only going away for a week, maybe a little more. She’d be there when he got back.

***

The pop of the champagne bottle announced the spray of liquor that began to stream over Calum and his friends. Ashton was pointing his bottle towards the crowd and fans screamed up at them, allowing the expensive liquid to drench them as the drivers celebrated.

Calum’s cheeks hurt from smiling, and two of his friends held his head back as Ashton poured booze into his mouth. He was getting used to this treatment, they were only four events into the year but this was Calum’s third win. He was going to drink a little, but he was saving his energy for the next race, it mattered more to him anyways.

The Monaco Grand Prix held a special place in Calum’s heart and he could hardly wait for the week and a half for it to start.

Champagne dripped down the front of his red jumpsuit and Calum shoved his friends away, heart pumping fast. It only ever beat this way when he won first place, something that was happening with more and more frequency.

The air was still tinged with red from the gusts of coloured smoke that had been released as he’d crossed the finish line.

For a moment something else flashed red across his vision, a shirt the model had been wearing the week before. She must have not had any idea when she’d chosen that colour that it had a deeper meaning for Calum. It was the colour of Ferrari, his colour, a colour that always sparked his heart with fire, the colour that promised a race, promised the elevation into paradise that came with a win.

One of his friends grabbing his jumpsuit drew Calum’s attention, and the image of the girl was gone.

***

Celeste lounged in her chair, celebrating a successful shoot with a slice of pizza. As she bit into the cheesy goodness, her makeup artist sat next to her, “you have to see this.” she said, moving her phone where Celeste could see, “it’s from the race practice today.”

“And it’s Formula one right?” Celeste clarified. She felt bad, knowing that she should logically know more about the cars. After all, she was in Monte Carlo for the Monaco Grand Prix. The brand who hired her to be their correspondent for the paid promotion trip had known Celeste had no background with motorsports, so they had a journalist creating her captions for all of her paid posts. But Celeste still felt bad.

“Yeah this is formula one, you can tell because the cars are thinner remember? just watch this.” the girl said with excitement. Celeste focused on the screen, watching as a red car sped down a track, “oh my god, how fast is he going?”

“Fast.” the girl breathed.

There were two cars, a red and a blue. The red tried to skim past the blue and sent them both spiraling out, the blue coming to stand still as the driver got their bearing, however, the red car hadn’t even stopped spinning before it was off again, speed gaining to catch the car that had taken the lead from him during those brief seconds of collision.

The camera angle switched to the camera attached to the red car and even at massively high speeds, the driver was fixing their mirror that had been damaged in the collision, and driving with only one hand.

One more harsh turn had red overtake the other red that had been in the lead.

The clip cut off.

“Did he win?” Celeste asked.

“He did, but this was just a practice, we still have qualifiers and the actual race.” her artist said, “fuck, Hood is insane, I’ve never seen a driver recover from a bump so quick.”

“I’m shocked the bump didn’t have them both like, flipping or something.” Celeste said, “every time I think about race cars I think about how deadly the crashes look.”

“Just be glad you’re not dating a driver.” her artist said.

Celeste laughed, “thank god.”

***

Celeste had been busy most of the day, but she’d heard the notorious Hood had won yet again, not that it was a surprise, apparently. People on the streets were talking about him, his name whispered over and over again everywhere Celeste went to take pictures.

The other model she was with had done the Monte Carlo coverage for the brand the year before, she’d chosen a club and said that it was the place to be the night of the qualifiers and especially the next night after the final.

It was easy enough to get onto the list for the exclusive club, and the fellow model, a girl named Alexa, warned Celeste not to sleep with any of the drivers, “they’re pigs.” Alexa said as they got out of the limo, “only good for pictures and tags but other than that? They talk a big game about liking it fast but these men don’t have stamina for shit.”

Celeste laughed, following Alexa up past the security who didn’t even ask if they were on the list. Alexa and Celeste where the types of girls who surpassed lists, if a straight man ever tried to refuse them entrance to a club, it would surely mark a coming apocalypse and pigs would be flying.

The VIP section of club was alive with people, full of the rich elite, the type of people who flew out to Monte Carlo with the pure intent of watching Formula One racing. Celeste decided, as she walked amongst people with pearls and diamonds adorning their bodies, that Formula One was an expensive sport. Alexa had mentioned early in the day, as the two of them absentmindedly waited for the cars to zoom past where they were sitting in the crowd, that some Formula One cars could cost around fifteen and a half million dollars to make.

Celeste had nearly fallen out of her seat at the number, and her mouth had gone dry as her eyes went to the track, watching the expensive cars who could at any moment flip and waste so much money.

The thought of cars crashing was swept from Celeste’s mind as she was dragged by Alexa through the crowd of people. The racers weren’t hard to spot. They were all decked out in sponsored caps and casual outfits. The only people in the room who didn’t feel like they needed to dress up, because they didn’t. Every rich person in the room was there for them, the racers had all the power, all eyes on them.

Some were surprisingly young looking, and many of them were smaller than Celeste expected. “Why are they so tiny?” Celeste whispered, stopping Alexa in her tracks as Celeste looked at the racers.

“The more weight that’s in the car, the slower it goes, smaller is better… for once.” Alexa teased, “come on.”

Then they were in the midst of the racers, Alexa hugging a man she fondly called Ash. He was a bit bigger than the others, but still not up to Celeste’s standards. Her eyes wandered, a smile on her face flashed to anyone Alexa introduced her too.

A song came on and Celeste’s hand tightened around Alexa’s, “oh my gosh, this is my song!” Celeste said, looking at her with pleading eyes, “come dance with me?”

“You go ahead, I have to catch up with some friends.” Alexa said.

Celeste didn’t need to be told twice, letting go of her friend to escape to the dancefloor. It was out of the way of the VIP section, filled with a younger crowd that Celeste felt akin to. She meshed in, lost within the swarm of dancing people. The song was new, by an artist she’d followed since his boyband years. His new music was rich and fun, the artist making a true name for himself as a rockstar.

Her hips swayed to the music, the beautiful metallic sheer dress hugging all her curves as she smiled and danced with the people who made room for her. She’d never had issues fitting in, least of all on a dancefloor.

When the song finished, she continued to dance, even though the next songs weren’t her favourites. She was just beginning to sweat when a hand grabbed hers, Alexa pulling her roughly, “Celeste come with me now!”

By the time they’d exited the crowd, it was obvious where Celeste was taking her. Standing in the VIP section, surrounded by racers, looking as handsome as ever, was Harry Styles, the very artist that Celeste had swooned over when his song had come on.

Her heart froze in her chest and she stopped in her tracks, pulled harshly again by Alexa, “come on!” Alexa said, “you have to meet him!”

***

Calum was becoming an expert in the art of opening and spraying champagne. He’d won the Monaco Grand Prix, taking the first spot like he was entitled to it, and keeping it until he’d crossed the finish line. His entire body was on fire, heart racing in his chest.

Ashton stood next to him, he’d finished third, which was also impressive. It was obvious that they’d be celebrating that night, after the interviews. Calum was excited about the night ahead, he’d always found Monte Carlo to be a dreamlike city, wonderous and in a way romantic.

He wasn’t sure what would happen that night, but if it was anything like his triumphant day, he knew it would be amazing. Nothing could pull him away from his post win high, and he was sure of that.

***

It was her.

Calum blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. No, it was her. The girl from the bar. The influencer who’d weaseled her way into his brain without even knowing it, was there, a few yards away. She had a glass of champagne in her hand, but it was still full.

Calum recognized the girl next to his influencer, a model named Alexa. He’d met her at a few of his races, she was a brand endorser for a number of the same brands Calum worked for. He knew he was on her Instagram, tagged a few times, pictures of the two of them standing next to each other, her smile much larger than his. Alexa was a nice girl, he enjoyed her, but Calum generally tried to stay away from models, he wasn’t quite sure why.

Alexa spotted him a moment later, her eyes widening as she motioned him over, opening her arms to pull him into a tight hug, “I can't believe you won!” she screamed, “that’s what? Your third race in a row? What’s your secret Hood?!”

Calum’s eyes darted between Alexa and the influencer next to her, still not introduced, waiting politely for his answer.

“Uh-” Calum wracked his brain for a witty response but nothing came, “who’s your friend?”

Alexa didn’t even seem to mind that he hadn’t answered her question, “this is Celeste.” she said.

Celeste held out a hand, “nice to meet you-”

“Calum.”

“Calum.” she repeated his name, a silly smile on her face. The name tasted sweet on her tongue, “I think… have we met before?” she tried to play it cool, but she knew exactly where she’d seen him. This was the mystery hunk who frequented her bar back in New York.

For months she’d been trying to work up the courage to go talk to him, and now there he was, halfway across the world in a club that was too loud, a new title added to his impressive resume.

Calum nodded, “we go to the same bar in New York.” he didn’t even bother dancing around the idea of where they knew each other from.

Celeste’s heart leaped in her chest.

“You two know each other?” Alexa asked in shock.

“Not really-” Celeste began as Calum said “no.” they both stopped, waiting for the other to continue. Both of them blushed, Calum readjusting his guinness cap on his head.

A man with honey coloured curls appeared, arm going around Calum as he greeted Alexa, “who’s your friend?” Ashton asked.

“Celeste.” Celeste answered, holding out her hand to him.

Calum watched every movement, loving every motion.

“I’m Ashton,” the man said, turning to Alexa, “you need a drink.” he stated, grabbing Alexa’s hand.

“Only if you’re buying.” Alexa teased, allowing Ashton to pull her towards the bar, leaving Calum alone with Celeste.

“So you won today!” Celeste said enthusiastically, “that must be so great for you!”

Calum could see her struggling with her words, “you don’t watch F1 much do you?”

“F1?”

“Formula One.” Calum corrected himself with a laugh.

“No, I don't.” Celeste admitted awkwardly, “fast cars aren’t really my thing.”

“Really?” Calum asked in shock, she looked like the kind of girl who would own a luxury car, but maybe he was getting ahead of himself.

“Yeah, I don't know, fast cars, crashes, guess I’m a bit of a scaredy-cat.” Celeste laughed, sipping her champagne.

“I could take you for a drive.” Calum stated, the words left his mouth before he could stop them, “I mean, my Ferrari is down at the track-”

“I’d have to be really drunk to agree to that.” Celeste laughed, the tone of it twinkling deliciously and making Calum smile.

“Then, cheers.” Calum clinked his beer with Celeste’s champagne glass.

“To F1.” Celeste said, already incorporating the new term Calum had taught her.

Calum smiled at her, “To fast cars, crashes and scaredy cats.”

***

“We are not doing this.” Celeste said, even as she got into the car. Calum closed the door behind her, hurrying to his own side to get into the driver's seat, “Calum, your seatbelt is straight out of bondage porno.”

“Watch a lot of those?” Calum laughed, his skin heating as he turned to look at the model who was holding the harness like a seatbelt.

“Calum!” Celeste said loudly again, jaw-dropping as she looked at him, “no!”

Calum grinned, reaching over to help her put the seatbelt on. He hadn’t pushed her to drink more, Celeste had done that on her own. She’d said after a few sips of champagne that ‘it wasn’t every day a formula one racer offered to take a gal out for a drive’ and had downed her glass. Seeing she was serious, Calum had put down his beer, having only had a sip of it.

He was completely sober, unlike the girl next to him. She was a bubbly drunk, much like the champagne that had caused her to be this way.

Calum grabbed the two safety helmets from the back of the car, handing one to Celeste. She looked at it like it was about to bite her, “what?!”

“For safety.” Calum said, putting it on her himself before putting on his own.

“How fast are we going to go?” Celeste asked.

“As fast as you want.” Calum said, putting on his own seatbelt before looking out at the track. He didn’t want to tell her that he would go over 200 km/h on straights, he knew he was being devious but he didn’t care so much.

He’d done this before, never with a model, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to show up and go for a celebratory lap of the track the night after a win. He’d even left his car on the track, having always planned on coming and doing this. Security was always nice to him, partly, he supposed, because he was a winner, but also partly because he was a nice guy.

“Fast.” Celeste whispered, then she looked at him, “wait, not super fast,” she said, then she frowned, “no, fast? Maybe?”

Calum laughed, “I'll just start, and if you want me to go slower, I can, yeah?”

“Okay.” Celeste said, her eyes lingering on the racer's profile, “pretty.” she mumbled, so quietly that Calum almost didn’t hear her. He felt his skin heating, could feel his ears turning red as the car roared to life, the engine purring.

“Fuck.” Celeste said, grabbing at the car door.

Calum laughed, turning to look at her, “we haven’t even moved yet.”

“What if I don't want to anymore?”

Calum took his foot off the brake and the car rolled about two feet, making Celeste grip the door tighter.

“We can stop.” Calum said, easing off the brake again to move another few feet.

Celeste took a deep breath, then turned to look at him, “Murder me.” she stated.

Calum’s breath caught in his throat and he blinked, taking a moment before he realized she meant that he should drive so fast she’ll metaphorically die. He swallowed thickly. “You got it.” he said, voice hoarse.

“Have you ever taken someone out on something like this before?” Celeste asked, suddenly sounding quite sober.

“We call them hot laps.” Calum stated, “I've taken a few athletes out on some, done some drifting, some donuts-”

“Can we do some donuts? I love donuts.” Celeste said as Calum pulled onto the track.

“Sure.” Calum looked at her, “do you trust me?”

Celeste wet her lips, “no?”

The first part of the track was straight and Calum’s foot went all the way down on the gas pedal. Celeste squealed, thrown back into her seat as Calum grinned. They reached 230 km/h quickly and Celeste screamed as she saw the first turn coming into view.

She didn’t tell him to slow down, which Calum appreciated as he adjusted the car for the turn, hitting the apex (the inner corner) perfectly as Celeste squealed next to him. Calum couldn’t help but smile, pushing the car faster again as he came out of the corner.

He knew this track like the back of his hand. Knew it was 3.4 kilometers, nineteen harsh corners that would have him breaking for around 20% of the drive, giving him ample reason to drift just to make Celeste scream. Fuck. He loved it.

There was no one watching, just him and Celeste, and she obviously knew nothing about racing. Which meant he could get away with doing things that had them both thrown around the car, just for the hell of it.

It was the type of track where he couldn’t go as fast as he wanted, he wanted to be able to show Celeste how fast a car could go.

The sharp turns were coming up and Calum was ready for Celeste’s loud scream as the tires skidded across asphalt, he wasn’t ready for her hand landing on his thigh, holding on tightly.

He held the record for fastest lap in the world at this track, having completed it in 1 minute and 13.60 seconds, almost a full second faster than anyone else in the world. In the car he was in now, it would take longer, but driving always seemed fast to him.

He was focused behind the wheel, moving it expertly, taking each turn as Celeste screamed next to him, never letting go of his leg.

To Celeste, the ride felt like eons, every turn threw her to the side, her eyes unable to keep a track of the road in front of them. She simply had to hold on and enjoy it. Part of her did. Perhaps it was her drunken state, but she wasn’t really that afraid. She trusted the man next to her, even if she didn’t understand why.

The car skidded to a halt and just as Celeste thought it was over, Calum lurched the wheel to the side and threw Celeste to the left, as she squealed. The car continued to go in tight circles, a harsh weight pulling on Celeste as she screamed, eyes closed, mind dizzy.

The car stopped and Celeste took a moment to open her eyes, blinking at Calum.

“That was a donut.” he told her.

“Thank you.” Celeste whispered.

Calum laughed, then his eyes darted down to her hand on his thigh, she followed his gaze, offering him a lazy smile, “you have nice thighs.”

“You do too.” Calum said, voice hoarse. It was true. She’s what Calum’s friends would call “thiccer than a sniccer” and it had not escaped his notice.

“Do I?” Celeste asked, removing her hand from Calum to look down at her lap, “you don’t think they’re too big?”

“No.” Calum said honestly, following her eyes now as he looked at her legs. He swallowed thickly, tearing his gaze away, “where are you staying?”

“I forget what it’s called.” Celeste said, a happy smile on her face, “can I stay with you tonight?”

Calum’s mind was blank for a moment. He wasn’t sure what she was asking for. He wasn’t about to take advantage of her, no matter how badly he wanted her thighs wrapped around his head- “uh- sure.”

“Sleep over!” Celeste squealed, “we have to order pizza!”

“I don’t eat pizza.” Calum said as he took off his helmet, reaching over to help Celeste take off hers.

“What?! Why not?!” Celeste pouted, looking very concerned.

“Racecar drivers are supposed to be small, less weight means a faster car-”

“But you’re so big and tall.” Celeste smiled.

“Yeah,” Calum laughed, “so i try not to eat much, don’t want to gain any more weight than I already have, I'm a lot taller than most drivers.”

“That must mean you’re really good.”

Calum smiled, setting the helmets in the back of the car then going to unbuckle Celeste. He stayed quiet, too humble to tell her that she was right.

Celeste turned to look out the window, opening the door once she’d been released from the seatbelt. By the time Calum had gone to join her on the other side of the car she was laying on the ground, “the stars are so pretty.” she mused.

Calum sighed. At the start of his day, he’d expected maybe winning the race. He hadn’t expected to bump into the model he’d been lusting over for months from New York, in a club in Monte Carlo, only to drive her around then lay on the track and look at the stars with her.

Calum got down next to her, his shoulder just touching hers, “the stars are pretty nice.”

“For my part, I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.” Celeste breathed, “Van Gogh. I'm really tired Calum, can you take me home?”

He couldn’t take her home, not really. All they had was his hotel room. But perhaps it wasn’t bricks and mortar that made something a home, perhaps it was something else. Something not solid, not something you could hold in your hands. Maybe it was a feeling.

He wondered what could be home.

***

Celeste blinked, sitting up in a bed that was not her own. The first thing she noticed was the wall of pillows to her left. Curled up in the pillows was a head of dark curls and Celeste recognized Calum. His back was to her, a redshirt covering his broad shoulders. Even in bed, he wore Ferrari’s colours, it was intriguing.

Calum was awake, and when the bed dipped, he knew Celeste was as well. He rolled over and sat up, looking at her, “how are you feeling?” he asked.

“My head hurts a little,” she admitted, “you took me racing last night?”

“I took you on the track.” Calum said.

She blinked at him, “I remember screaming a lot.”

A smile spread across Calum’s face, “yeah, I think you enjoyed it.”

“I think I remember enjoying it.”

Calum got out of the bed, “I'm going to go get you breakfast, waffles and donuts right?”

“How did you know my cheat meal?”

“You were ranting about it last night, wanted to go find a diner to make you some fried chicken and waffles.” Calum answered, leaning against the doorway, “I don't think they’ll have the deep-fried chicken, but they have waffles, and donuts, sprinkles right?”

“Did I tell you all of my favourite foods last night?” Celeste laughed.

“Nah,” Calum smiled, “just your top hundred.” he teased, “I'll be back soon.”

Celeste looked down, realizing she was also in a Ferrari shirt. It was Calum’s, the red of it more worn and comfy looking than the shirt Calum had been wearing. It was large on her and when she got out of bed it went just to her upper thighs. The fabric was not made for a woman, not made to curve over a large bum, as Celeste turned to look at herself in the mirror next to the bed, her eyes took in the way the shirt teased. Every movement had it riding a little bit higher, sneaking a sliver of bodaciousness that she was known for.

Her hair was still wavy from it’s styling the night before but all of her makeup was gone.

She had some sort of memory of Calum wiping a warm cloth over her face.

Yes, now she remembered. He’d brought her to the hotel and had insisted on cleaning her up before letting her pass out. He’d wiped the makeup from her face gently while she ranted about food. She missed American food, missed the diner in New York that she went to every Sunday morning for deep-fried chicken and waffles.

The door to the room opened and Calum stepped in, a box full of food in his hands. He set it down on the tabletop next to Celeste’s side of the bed, then he began rearranging the pillows, straightening out the blanket.

“Thanks for the breakfast.” Celeste said, picking up a waffle.

“Don’t mention it.”

“So… are you headed back to New York soon?” she asked.

“There’s another race in under two weeks, I think a lot of us are going to stay here, and then head to Canada together, France after that-”

“Oh my god, I didn’t know you raced in so many countries.”

“This is round six, there’s twenty-one in total, so that’s still fifteen to go.” Calum said, not looking up at her.

“Fifteen more races? Fifteen more countries?” Celeste asked in shock.

“Yeah.”

“Shit.” Celeste chewed on her waffle.

Calum looked down at his watch.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” Celeste asked.

“Yeah, I have to go do training, then meet up with my team and talk about the race yesterday.”

“You’re a busy guy.”

Calum offered her a smile, “sorry I can’t stay longer and have breakfast with you.”

“It’s okay.”

“Are you going back to New York soon?” Calum asked.

“Uh…” Celeste’s mouth was dry, “I'm not sure yet.” her skin was prickling. She’d almost forgotten about the charming brit she’d met two nights before. The brit she’d gone home with. The brit she was meeting up with in- “fuck, I have to go-”

Calum laughed, “got somewhere to be?”

“Yeah a date,” Celeste answered, shoving the waffle in her mouth, “I need to give you your shirt back-” she said around the waffle.

Calum’s expression had changed, but Celeste hadn’t noticed, too busy looking around for her stuff, “Keep it.” Calum said, “You can give it back to me in New York.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I have a lot of Ferrari shirts.”

“Are you sure?”

“Uh huh.”

Celeste grabbed her small clutch purse, finding her shirt and skirt on the ground. She pulled the skirt up her legs, the stretchy material hugging her curves as she did a french tuck with the front of her shirt, “Calum, thank you so much for last night, for everything.” she said sincerely, turning to look at the driver.

“Don’t mention it.”

She stepped towards him and wrapped him in a hug. After a moment of hesitation, Calum hugged her back.

“I’ll see you in New York.” she promised as she pulled away, “we’ll have to meet up at the bar or something.”

Calum smiled, but it was forced, “sounds fun.”

“It will be.” Celeste ran to the door, “good luck with everything! Congrats again on your win yesterday.”

“Thanks. Get home safe.”

“I will.”

Then she was gone.

The twelve hours he’d had with her felt like borrowed time. As if he’d somehow stolen those hours from whatever god or being had kept the two of them apart for so long. And now she was gone. Calum felt like Cinderella at midnight, except it was nine AM and he wasn’t a princess in a Disney movie.

He was a formula one driver with a job to do. And he wasn’t about to let a pretty brunette get in the way of his work, even if she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen in his life.

****

They’d followed each other that day, the notification lighting up Calum’s phone. The first of many pleasant phone buzzes signaling a message from the model. She’d posted a picture of chicken waffles on her story her first day back in New York and Calum hadn’t been able to resist the urge to message her about it, congratulating her on finally quenching her craving.

Conversation with her was easy. Two weeks into casually talking, she’d sent him a meme about friends, saying ‘us.’ it hadn’t thrown Calum off, he considered her a friend too. After all, the best relationships start with friendship, something Calum had learned after many failed attempts at love.

Celeste even congratulated Calum on winning second in the race in Canada and it had shocked him that she’d watched it. “What are friends for?” she’d messaged back, warming Calum’s whole body.

Their friendship reached a new height when she asked for his snapchat, and thus began the great dog snap challenge. Anytime either of them saw a dog, they’d take a picture and send it to the other.

Calum was busy with work. Ferrari was ramping things up, and Calum had his head in the game. Because of this, he didn’t have time to go home, even though he wanted to. Which was why he was so excited when Celeste messaged him to tell him she’d be in England when he was there for Round Ten of the championship.

Calum didn't ask too many questions, too excited to see her.

It was an hour before Celeste’s flight to England, and Calum wondered if he should message her. He finally gave in, it was late for him and he knew if he didn’t message her, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Before he could text her, his phone rang.

He’d had Celeste’s number since they’d met, 45 days ago, not that he was counting, and they’d never called each other.

“Calum! I’m not waking you am i?” Celeste’s voice was worried.

“No, what’s up?”

“Is it okay that I called you?”

“It’s fine, you sound worried.” Calum sat down, eager to give her his full attention.

“Have I ever told you I'm not into flying?” Celeste asked.

Calum chuckled, “no, you never mentioned it.”

“Well, I am, and I don’t know why this is freaking me out so much.”

“I mean, it is a long flight, maybe that’s why?” Calum paused, “you’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Are you my captain Calum?” Celeste asked sarcastically.

“No, but you’ll be fine.” he paused, “hey, when you get here, do you need me to pick you up?”

“No thanks! Harry’s picking me up.”

“Harry?”

“Yeah.”

Calum opened his mouth, then closed it, he wasn’t sure what to say, “I didn't know you were seeing him?” he offered.

“It’s funny, I met him the night before I met you. He actually has been coming to visit me in New York, so I figured it’s my turn to head out to him, and when I saw it would line up with you being there i had to come.”

Calum’s skin was cold. He’d thought she was coming to see him, but as it turned out, he was only fifty percent of the reason. Was he even fifty percent?

“But I’m coming to your race!” Celeste continued, “the training ones and the final one.”

Her terms weren’t correct but Calum couldn’t be bothered to correct her. “Is Harry coming with you too?” Calum asked.

“Yeah, he’ll be around, but I do really want to see you Cal.” there was a muffled sound, then, “they’re boarding so I gotta go. Talking to you really helped Cal. I’ll see you soon! I’m so excited!”

“Me too.” Calum forced out.

“Awesome! Love ya! Bye!”

Calum’s mouth felt dry, his body still frozen, but he managed to say “bye.” then the line clicked and Celeste was gone, but had she ever really been there?

***

He was late. Something that never happened, but he’d been late with Celeste. They’d gone out for drinks her second night England and had stayed up talking and ordering room service until three AM. Calum had lost track of time, another thing he’d never really experienced.

Shoving his legs into his race suit and pulling it up, he ran past a few mechanics, eager to get on the track. He’d had a call early that morning that some rich person had paid a lot of money to have a hot lap with him.

It seemed to be the day of things that had never happened to Calum.

He usually didn’t do hot laps, and Ferrari knew that. There was, allegedly, something special about the person who’d requested him, but that morning, half asleep when his phone rang, Calum had been too tired to ask.

Calum was used to camera’s being shoved in his face and he pushed through them, approaching the signature red car that he’d be using.

“Calum, what’s it like driving one of the most famous British singers in the world?” a reporter asked.

Calum looked up, for the first time getting a glimpse at who he’d be driving around.

Harry Styles looked as Calum always supposed he would. His hair was perfect, and the black jacket he was wearing made him look like he’d come straight out of an Abercrombie and fitch magazine. Or perhaps another magazine, Calum didn’t keep up with fashion.

Then came the dimples.

Calum could have thrown up.

“You must be Calum!” Harry exclaimed, holding out a hand and offering a smile.

Calum shook his hand, hard, not smiling, not saying anything.

Then he remembered the cameras. Remembered that this was his job. Remembered that as the top f1 driver, driving a man with a huge fanbase, the video would probably go viral. Calum forced a smile, “nice to meet you.” he said politely.

“So let's get to it yeah?” Harry asked, his British accent way too charming.

Calum nodded, going around the car to escape the paparazzi. He put his helmet on and took some joy in the fact that Harry would have to do the same, and maybe it would ruin his hair.

There were cameras in the car.

Calum wondered what would happen next.

“Excited for your race, mate.” Harry said, buckling himself in, “you’ve always been the one to watch.”

“Didn’t know you were a big formula one fan.” Calum mused, the engine roaring to life.

“I wasn’t.” Harry admitted, “we have a mutual friend, she got me into it.”

Calum wondered how far Harry would go. After all, there were cameras in the car, and Calum had heard about Harry and his tendency to stay elusive.

That’s when he realized it was serious. The thing between Harry and Celeste.

Harry had spent a lot of money to be in the car with Calum. He was facing the cameras, despite his desire to mostly not produce content.

And he was talking about Celeste.

Calum’s foot stepped onto the petal and the car lurched forward. He hoped that Harry wouldn’t talk anymore. Hoped it would be a quiet ride.

“How did you two meet again?”

“What?”

“Our mutual friend.”

Calum wished he’d just say her name. But he understood why Harry was being aloof. Understood it protected Celeste from being prematurely exposed to his fan base, for better or for worse.

Calum respected it.

“Met in Monaco. She mentioned it was the day after she met you.” Calum said, making a point to mention Harry. He supposed it would ease Harry’s mind, knowing Celeste had mentioned him… even if it had only been a few days earlier. Calum pushed the car faster and then braked hard for a corner, throwing Harry to the side.

“That was a good race by the way.” Harry said, “You came in first, congratulations.”

“I like Monaco.” Calum said, “it’s a special place.”

“It is.” Harry agreed. Calum couldn’t be sure, but Harry seemed satisfied with their interaction. Calum wasn’t sure what he expected, after all, it’s not like the guy was going to come out and be aggressive with him… even if that’s what Calum might have done in his position.

The rest of the drive went smoothly, with Harry complimenting Calum’s driving and even letting out happy hollers at sharp turns.

As the car came to a stop, Harry turned to shake Calum’s hand, “maybe I'll see you tonight.” Harry offered.

“Maybe.” no way in hell.

One last smile and the gorgeous man was gone, out of Calum’s car and hopefully his life.

***

“Are you sure you don’t want to come out?”

“Yeah, I need sleep tonight, the race is tomorrow-”

“Did… I- Harry told me about this morning, said he was eager to meet you, did you like him?”

“He’s fine, I’m just tired.” Calum lied.

Celeste was silent on the other end of the line for a moment, “but tomorrow night, we’re still on, right?”

When she’d first arrived and they’d gotten drinks, Calum had promised to do the same thing after the race. But when he’d promised he’d assumed it would be just the two of them. Calum didn't want to go anymore, “yeah.” he said.

“Okay, because I had a lot of fun last night Cal. Anyways, have a good night, get some sleep, you’re going to be great tomorrow.”

“You promise?” Calum asked.

“I’m your captain, I definitely promise.” Celeste laughed, the sound was magic, “love ya Cal! Talk tomorrow!”

“Love you too.”

He hung up.

***

Celeste’s arms wrapped around him and when Calum lifted her off the ground, her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, “you did it!” she screamed in his ear, a little too loud, but he didn’t care.

He set her down and Celeste pulled way, keeping him close as she looked up at him, “that was amazing Calum!”

“It was nothing-” Calum brushed it off, looking down. He could be cocky about his driving, but not with her. With Celeste, his heart always seemed to swell.

“Calum, you hit every single apex!” Celeste said and Calum’s heart fluttered even more.

She’d learned a term used in F1.

He didn’t even know what to say so he just looked down at her, unable to stop smiling.

“Harry’s not coming, by the way, he had to go back to London for work.” Celeste said, finally pulling away from Calum, “so it’s just us tonight!”

Calum let out a breath, smile widening, “so where are we headed?”

He didn't care that other drivers were probably going to celebrate at a specific location. He only cared about taking every moment with Celeste…. As friends of course.

Of course….

Who was he kidding, Calum knew he was walking a fine line. Part of him wondered what would happen when she came to England… before he’d found out about Harry. And although those ideas were no use anymore, he’d be damned if he didn’t still take advantage of their time together.

“Let's get drinks?” Celeste suggested.

Calum smiled, “sounds perfect.”

***

Calum stared up at the ceiling and Celeste rolled onto her side to look at him. Calum smiled, turning to look at her too, “what?”

“I’m just…” Celeste studied him, “I haven't really had any guy friends before. All the guys I know try to be my friend just to get me in bed. And we’re here and you’re not trying anything.”

Calum coughed awkwardly, sitting up, “well, you’re seeing Harry.”

Celeste rolled onto her back, hair fanning over the pillow, “yeah.”

“How is that going? You didn’t talk much about him last time we hung out.” it was true. They’d been together for hours and Celeste hadn’t mentioned him once.

Celeste took a deep breath, “I really like him. I think. I don’t know. When I was a teenager and he was in One Direction he was huge. And, like every other teenage girl on earth, I was definitely a fan of his. Being with him feels… well, it’s odd. He’s a great guy but I almost feel like I enjoy the grandeur of him. I enjoy the Harry that I know from social media…” there was a pause, then, “fuck, this is why I’m trying not to get drunk anymore. I always want to talk about philosophy and end up confusing myself even more. Forget I said anything, I’m being stupid.”

Calum looked at her, watching the way her chest rose and fell. Her eyes were closed. She was frowning.

It was the most vulnerable he’d ever seen her.

Calum laid down next to her, “I'm sure you’ll figure it out.”

“I’ll probably just do what I always do, stick with it until something really bad happens, then run away.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy.” Calum stated.

Celeste smiled, “Never said it was.” she yawned, “can I stay here tonight?”

“Sure… do you need me to build a pillow wall like last time?” Calum teased.

“For your protection or mine?” Celeste flirted, but Calum knew it was just for the sake of teasing, her expression changed, “why did you have to make a pillow fort last time?”

“You asked for one.”

“So you just built me one?”

“Of course.”

“You’re really sweet, has anyone ever told you that?” Celeste asked, pulling the covers over her body.

“No.”

“Well, people should tell you you’re sweet more often.” Celeste’s eyes were closed and from the wispy tone of her voice, Calum knew she was about three seconds from falling asleep.

“Goodnight Celeste.”

“Goodnight Cal.”

***

Calum stared at the deep-fried chicken on top of waffles. Celeste looked like a kid in a candy shop and Calum was shocked she’d even found a place that served her favourite breakfast. She looked adorable, having stolen one of his Ferrari hats and a shirt.

It was big on her, but he loved it.

“Cal, can you take a pic of me and my waffles?” Celeste asked, handing him her phone.

“Sure.” he said, adjusting the camera as Celeste made a face, tongue out, fingers up in peace signs.

He took a few pictures, smiling down at them before he handed the phone back.

“Do you mind if I tag you?” Celeste asked, “I mean, I am the new Ferrari spokesperson after all.” she joked, flipping the hat so it was backwards.

“Sure.”

He watched her. She was so focused on making the post, it was her job after all.

Calum wondered if Harry would mind that she was tagging him. But… as was plainly obvious, he was just Celeste’s friend.

Sitting there, across from the gorgeous model, Calum decided he’d be just that: a friend. He’d be there for her always, or as long as she wanted him around. He’d take her out for waffles and make blanket forts and support her, even if it meant supporting her with another man.

He’d be whatever she needed him to be. And if that was simply a friend, so be it.

***

“Can you believe you’re almost done the world championship?” Celeste asked.

Calum smiled. It had been five months since they’d met. This championship had felt particularly long for some reason, “miss me already?” Calum teased.

He’d been coming back to New York on his time off as much as he could. He was living for the nights he and Celeste spent at the bar they should have met in. The bar that, if he’d had the balls, could have been where they’d met months before. Could have been where they had their first date-

“Of course I do Cal!” Celeste said, “fuck, I wanted to tell you once you got here, but, I can’t hold it in anymore!”

Calum’s skin felt cold and anxiety overcame it. She’d been getting more and more excited about Harry and any time she had news, Calum was scared what it would be.

“Harry and I are getting married.”

Calum’s mouth was dry, when he opened his mouth to speak it hurt and he had to swallow thickly, giving him the time to think, “congratulations.”

“You’ll come right?”

“When is it?” Calum asked, worried by the eagerness in her voice.

Celeste and Harry had just come out as a couple a month earlier, when he’d taken her to an event. Calum hadn’t looked at the pictures but Celeste had sent him snaps of her dress before she went, and Calum had been so upset he’d gone to a gym to punch things.

“Harry wants it soon, weird right? I didn’t think he was the marriage type.”

Calum bit his tongue. He’d never brought up the night in England when Celeste had told him she worried about why she was with Harry. He wanted to bring it up.

He chose not to.

“Anyways, next month I think?”

Calum’s chest hurt.

“So you’re coming right?” the hope in her voice made it worse.

“I’ll be there.” Calum choked out, “I have to go.”

“Aw really?”

“Yeah, sorry, talk later?” Calum collapsed into his bed.

“Good luck in your race tomorrow. Last one, then you’re coming home.”

Home. He’d wondered before if home was a feeling. He’d felt it every time he was in the bar with Celeste, or grabbing waffles, or with her staring at the stars or even the ceiling.

He wondered if he’d ever feel home again.

***

Alexa looked at Calum. He’d not been impressed to be there. Every time Celeste came out in a new white dress, he’d put on a big happy face, but as soon as Celeste was gone he’d frown again, sitting back and sighing.

“Aren’t you happy for her?” Alexa asked. She’d heard about Calum and Celeste being good friends. Hell, part of Alexa wondered if Calum had surpassed her on the friend scale. Not that Alexa had minded, she was busy and working in LA more and more, which made it harder to keep up with Celeste.

“Yeah. Of course.” Calum said.

“You don’t look happy.” Alexa pointed out.

Before Calum could respond, Celeste called for Alexa’s help and Alexa disappeared. Calum pulled out his phone, opening Celeste’s Instagram. The newest picture was one he’d taken. Celeste bending over the pool table to take a shot. She’d kicked his ass that night, and Calum smiled sadly, wondering if she’d still be up for dodgy bar nights after she was married.

Movement caught his eye and he looked up.

Celeste was standing there in the new wedding dress. It had a form-fitting corset that showed off her curves. Plain white and silky with harsher lines rather than a softly rounded neckline. Beautiful tulle layers of soft white fabric puffed out from under the corset.

She looked like a princess.

Calum’s heart leaped in his chest and he looked at her with eyes that betrayed everything… to Alexa, who was watching him carefully.

“What do you guys think?” Celeste asked, spinning.

“It’s the one.” Calum stated.

“I agree.” Alexa nodded.

Celeste beamed, her whole body alight with happiness as she looked at him, “I think so too.”

Celeste turned to go back into the changeroom and Alexa caught Calum’s eye, she frowned at him and Calum looked away.

Alexa felt bad for Calum, and as she helped Celeste out of the dress, Alexa also realized how much respect she had for the man. He’d said he was coming to the wedding. Alexa wondered if that was true.

***

He couldn’t do it.

He had to do it.

Calum sighed, leaning over the sink and splashing water onto his face. When he stood up, the face looking back at him in the mirror seemed put together.

Calum wished it was true.

The door to the bathroom opened and Alexa peeked her head in, “Cal?”

“This is the men’s bathroom.” Calum said, upset that she was disrupting him when he needed time alone.

“Celeste wanted me to come check on you.”

The anger in Calum’s shoulders disappeared and he took a deep breath, turning to Alexa, “I’m fine.” he lied.

Alexa stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her, “you’re at your best friend's rehearsal dinner the night before her wedding. Your best friend, who I might add, you’re in love with.”

Calum swallowed thickly, he wasn’t sure what to say.

“It’s okay to admit it to someone Calum.” Alexa said, “I'm sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Calum sighed, running a hand through his curls, “it’s my own fucking fault.”

“It’s not.”

“It is. I should have said something.”

“When?”

“I don’t know.” Calum said, voice rising, “but I should have. Before the wedding, before the engagement, before-” he cut himself off, turning to rest his hands on the sink again, head bowed, “it doesn’t matter.”

“If it’s any consolation, I think you’re a really great guy.” Alexa said. There was a pause, then the bathroom door opened.

Celeste stuck her head in, eyes drifting between Alexa and Calum. For a moment she was expressionless, then she smiled, “what are you two up to?”

“Just talking.” Alexa said, “Calum needs to tell you something.”

Celeste entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She looked radiant as ever, in a soft lavender silky dress that Calum longed to touch. It lit up the green of her eyes and the tanness of her skin and Calum’s mouth went dry looking at her.

It had hurt to spend the whole dinner seated next to her, watching her laugh with Harry. Calum could barely stand it anymore.

“So…” Celeste said, “what’s up?” she looked between Alexa and Calum again.

“I’m going to give you two privacy.” Alexa said, quickly leaving.

Celeste turned to Calum, concern on her face, “is something wrong?”

Calum’s heart was nearly beating out of his chest. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Celeste waited patiently, searching his face for a sign of what was to come.

This was the time to say it. The time to tell her how he felt.

He couldn’t do it.

Couldn’t bear the thought of making her upset, two days before her wedding.

“You’re not coming to the wedding are you?” Celeste frowned.

“No.” Calum breathed out before he could stop himself. He wouldn’t have said it on his own, wouldn't have brought it up, but now that she had… now that she was verbalizing it, he realized there was no way in hell he’d be able to go. Celeste’s eyes were welling with tears and Calum was quick to wipe them away before they could drip down her chin and tarnish her dress, “hey, it’s not you, I uh- work.”

The lie also slipped out before he could stop it. He couldn’t make her think it was her fault. Couldn’t tell her the truth.

“Work called.” he said, sounding more certain, “there’s a new thing they’re trying on my car so I have to get on a plane.”

“You’re flying out?” Celeste asked in confusion, “but your tournament just ended? I thought you were home for good? I planned the wedding so you could come-”

Calum’s heart broke at her words. He brushed more tears away from her face, hands cupping her cheeks. Celeste grabbed his wrists, looking up at him with those big green eyes.

His voice cracked when he spoke, “I’m sorry.”

Celeste moved his hands away from her face and hugged him, her body pressed against his front. Calum’s arms wrapped around her, “you’re going to have a great wedding.” he said, voice hoarse, “big and white and just what you wanted.”

Celeste cried harder and Calum wanted to go outside and crash his ferrari into a wall.

The door to the bathroom opened and Harry peaked his head in, immediately entering when he saw Celeste crying, “What happened?!” Harry asked.

Celeste pulled away from Calum and stepped instead into Harry’s arms, not saying anything as she cried.

“I got called in for work so I can’t make the wedding, I'm flying out tonight.” Calum said. It was easier to lie to Harry, “Celeste is upset I won't be there.”

Harry studied Calum for a moment, then he nodded, “I'm sorry you can’t make it.”

“Me too.” he paused, “I'll go grab Alexa, she’ll have makeup, I don't want to ruin your night-”

“When are you leaving?” Celeste asked suddenly, turning to look at him.

“In two hours.” he lied, eager to have an excuse to leave.

He was glad Celeste was too shocked by the sudden turn of events to ask many questions or prod him for answers. He didn't have any answers. Knew the lies were weak.

Calum turned to leave but Celeste grabbed his hand, “when do you come back?”

“I don’t know.” Calum answered. He didn't know anything.

He’d go to Italy in a few days, that was Ferrari's home base. He’d learn some more Italian so his mechanics could talk to him, he’d-

“Calum?”

“Yeah?”

Celeste opened her mouth then closed it, then opened it again “don’t hurt yourself.”

“I won’t.” Calum looked at her quizzically, unsure where the sudden warning had come from, “send me pictures from the wedding okay?” he wouldn’t look at them.

Celeste nodded. She said nothing else and neither did Calum.

He left the bathroom, bumping into Alexa in the hallway, “what happened?!” Alexa asked, shocked by the tears that were welling in Calum’s eyes.

“I’m skipping the wedding.”

“Did you tell her you love her?” Alexa whispered, following Calum as he attempted to leave the venue.

“No.”

“So what happened?!”

“Told her I’m leaving the country tonight for work-”

“Calum!” Alexa grabbed his arm and made him stop, looking around to make sure no one was looking at them, “you can’t leave.”

“I’m going to go to Italy-”

“You can’t!” Alexa insisted.

“Why not?” Calum asked, beginning to get angry.

“Just-” Alexa looked around again, voice lowering, “please stay in town. Until after the wedding, then you can go wherever you want, you can be out of here tomorrow night. But… trust me Calum. It’s better if you’re here.”

“Why?”

“I just… I have a feeling.”

“A feeling?” Calum laughed, but there was no humour in it.

“Celeste is my best friend. She’s never said anything to me about you but-” Alexa cut herself off as a server walked by, looking at the two brunettes huddled together in secrecy, “just don’t leave the country. Promise me.”

Calum sighed, “fine. I’ll stay, but I’m getting a ticket for tomorrow night. then I’m gone.”

“Okay.”

Calum studied Celeste’s best friend. Wondered what she was thinking. Wondered what she couldn’t say.

***

Celeste had managed to get herself put together for the remaining rehearsal dinner, it was near done anyways. She’d gone home with Alexa, to the apartment they shared when they were both in the city.

Celeste would be moving out as soon as she returned from her honeymoon and her things were already in boxes, a suitcase packed for the trip Harry had planned to celebrate the wedding.

Alexa watched Celeste mope around. If Alexa didn’t know any better, she would have assumed Celeste had just been dumped.

Except that she hadn’t.

“Your wedding is tomorrow, aren’t you excited?” Alexa asked, passing a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream to her friend.

“Yeah,” Celeste frowned, “but Cal won’t be there.”

“Harry will. That’s what matters right?”

Celeste took a deep breath, “yeah.”

“What are you thinking Celeste?” Alexa asked, a question she’d become accustomed to asking. Celeste didn't open up much, even when prodded.

“I don’t know.” Celeste fell down onto her bed, careful not to drop the ice cream.

Her eyes went to the wedding dress hanging there, then to the picture of her and Calum that they’d taken in Italy months earlier. The two of them at Ferrari HQ where he’d shown her around and explained all the cars to her, talking in mangled Italian to the workers who’d smiled at his attempts.

Celeste groaned loudly, “well. I’m getting married tomorrow.”

“Uh huh.” Alexa didn’t sound too convinced.

***

Celeste paced back and forth, hands on her hips. It was an odd sight but not a surprising one for Alexa who stood there watching the fully dressed bride have a panic attack.

“What time is it?!” Celeste asked suddenly, turning to look at Alexa.

“Eleven forty. wedding is in twenty minutes.”

“Oh my god.” Celeste fell onto a chair, hiding her face in her hands while careful not to smudge her makeup.

“Talk to me Celeste.” Alexa said, kneeling in front of her friend.

Celeste looked at Alexa from behind her fingers, then took a deep breath. For a moment Alexa thought Celeste would actually open up, then her mouth shut, “this is a mess.” Celeste whispered.

Alexa sighed, “Celeste. Is it possible, that the reason you were so upset when Calum left last night, is because you wanted him at the wedding-”

“Of course I want him there!” Celeste frowned.

“But maybe not as someone in the crowd? Maybe as the groom?” Alexa asked.

Celeste looked shocked for a moment, staring at her friend as if she’d just said she believed the earth was flat, “what?”

“You and Calum.” Alexa said softly, “do you love him?”

“Of course I love him.”

“As more than a friend.” Alexa specified.

“I-” Celeste looked distressed, “I’m getting married to Harry-”

“Just answer the question.” Alexa took Celeste’s hand gently.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s gone. He chose work over being at my wedding and left the country last night-”

“He doesn’t have work today, and he didn’t leave the country.”

“What?!”

“He didn't come because he couldn’t stand to see you with Harry anymore.”

“What?!” Celeste said, louder this time.

“He loves you.”

Celeste stood up abruptly and Alexa followed suit. Alexa had expected Celeste to be ranting, but the girl in front of her was oddly silent.

Celeste’s hands were shaking as she pulled out her phone. She hit speaker and the sound of ringing filled the room.

“Celeste? Are you okay?” Calum’s voice was worried.

“You lied.”

“What?”

“You’re still in New York?” her voice cracked. The line was quiet, Celeste bit her lip, “can… can you come, and bring your car please?”

“I-”

“Calum please.” Celeste said.

She’d never been one to beg, but there she was. Begging in her wedding dress.

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Please hurry.”

***

Calum got out of the car but it didn’t matter, Celeste was already running down the steps. Her hands clutched the dress, lifting it up as to not dirty it.

She was, in every sense of the word, a runaway bride.

And Calum had never been more in love with her.

He held the door open for the car. He’d chosen the one without a top, it was old but still luxurious. A few girls had told him it was the black version of the car people drove off into the sunset in Grease, but Calum had never fact-checked that claim.

Celeste was beaming. Glowing really. And Calum was smiling back at her, helping her tuck her entire dress into the car before he closed the door and ran to the driver's seat.

The car roared to life, like a battle cry, or perhaps a battle won.

“I need to go to my apartment.” Celeste said and Calum didn’t question it.

She’d yet to tell him anything. But since they were driving away from the church, Calum guessed the wedding was over. He was guilty that it made him happy.

The radio was playing club music, the type of hype music Calum liked to drive to, and Celeste turned it up. Her hair was getting messed up by the air whipping by them but Celeste was laughing, arms in the air.

She looked beautiful. Like a girl going to her wedding, not one running away.

Calum snuck glances at her at the first red light.

He could almost forget about Harry.

Until they drove up to the apartment and Harry was waiting there, leaning against his car. One of his friends was in the driver's seat, but he didn't get out of the car.

The look on Harry’s face was stony and it was obvious to Calum that he knew what was coming. “Calum, I need to talk to him is that okay?”

“Of course.” Calum answered.

Like Harry’s driver, Calum stayed in his car. Watching his best friend, the bride to be, get out and walk towards Harry. They were both dressed for the wedding, and it was odd to see them out on the New York street, even if it was a quiet one.

“Celeste, we need to be at the church-” Harry said.

“Harry, I love you but I can't marry you.” Celeste stated, “and I’m so sorry it took me this long to figure it out.”

Harry was quiet.

“You’re one of the most wonderful people I've ever met.” Celeste continued, “and I needed to tell you this in person, but I can't do this. We’ve only been seeing each other for six months and we’re rushing things, don’t you think we’re rushing things?”

Harry sighed but nodded, he’d had the feeling too.

“Besides, we’re amazing friends and I do love you Harry, but I’m not in love with you.”

“Not the way you are with Calum.” Harry stated.

It knocked the air out of Celeste’s lungs. It was as if everyone had known her feelings except her, and maybe Calum, “I-”

“It’s okay.” Harry held up a hand, “s’ not like I would have been able to live in New York forever, and you can’t give up your sodding chicken and waffles.”

“Don’t bash the deep-fried chicken and waffles Harold.” Celeste said, faking offense, but then she was smiling and so was Harry.

“Come here.” Harry said, opening his arms.

They hugged and Celeste was happy neither of them were crying. It showed that this was right.

“I’m not going to deal with wedding guests.” Harry mused while pulling away.

“Me neither.” Celeste said, “we could both just not show up? That sounds like a good song.”

“You have left me with a lot of material.” Harry laughed, “well, I'll see you around Celeste.”

“See you around Harry.” Celeste said fondly, giving the brit one last smile before he got into his car and left. Then she bounded over to the car, leaning down to rest her arms on Calum’s door, “hey.”

“That looked like it went okay.” Calum said.

“It did. So, my bags are packed upstairs for a honeymoon that I’m not going on… what do you say we go somewhere?”

Calum smiled, “where to princess?”

“Take me back to Monte Carlo.”

***

The sound of the hotel room door opening woke Celeste up, her eyes landing on Calum. They’d arrived the night before and had immediately passed out, both too jetlagged to do much. Calum offered her a smile and Celeste stretched, yawning the words “where were you?”

“Wanted to get you breakfast but I didn't think the stuff downstairs was up to your standards.” Calum said, leaning on a wall. He wasn’t sure where to stand.

They were in Monaco.

They’d talked and watched movies the entire flight but neither had brought up the wedding.

He wasn’t sure where he stood with her. Wasn’t sure what he was allowed to ask.

Celeste could feel his awkwardness as she studied him. Then she stood up, adjusting the Ferrari shirt she was wearing. “Calum?”

“Hm?”

“Come here?”

Calum smiled softly, uncrossing his arms over his chest, he took a few steps forward. Celeste held out her arms and pulled Calum to her, looking up at him, “Calum. Do you know I love you?”

“Yeah.” Calum said, he’d heard it many times, after every phone call, after every ride he gave her home after a hangout.

“Do you know I'm in love with you?”

Calum’s breath caught in his chest and he wet his lips, mind racing. The thought that he was the reason for her ditching her wedding had crossed his mind but he’d pushed it to the side, instead deciding to be, as always, Celeste’s friend.

“Calum?” Celeste breathed his name, brushing her fingers over his cheekbone.

Instead of speaking he kissed her.

He’d gone so long not saying the words ringing through his brain, they could wait a little while longer.

His lips were soft on Celeste’s at first, hesitant, as if he was afraid she would pull away. Only when Celeste wrapped her arms around the back of his neck did he get more comfortable, one hand cupping her face while the other went to her waist, pulling her closer.

Calum pulled away and his entire body shuddered for a moment, in something like pure ecstasy, maybe shock.

Celeste smiled up at him, kissing his lips once more softly, “Are you okay?” she asked.

Calum laughed, returning her grin, he shook his head a little, “I just-” he couldn’t find the right words to explain how he was feeling, Celeste waited patiently and- god, he loved her so much.

She could see it in his eyes.

Calum’s fingers dug into Celeste’s hips and she beamed at him, brushing her fingers against his cheeks. She could feel what was unsaid and almost appreciated it more because he couldn’t find the words to say it. She’d always had a connection with Calum that seemed to be on another level, and moments like this confirmed it to her.

Moments like this. She enjoyed the thought of that, of more to come.

“Are you going to kiss me again?” Celeste teased, eyes darting down to look at his lips then up at him again.

Calum kissed her, not as hesitant as the first kiss. His hands went to her waist immediately, one of them dipping down to just above her bum. His fingers bunched in the red fabric and the cool air met Celeste’s ass. She was in a thong, Calum hadn't noticed yet because she’d been covered by the shirt since the night before, but when his hand dipped a little lower, he groaned into her mouth and Celeste knew he’d discovered the flimsy fabric covering her.

His hand kneaded her ass harshly, and Celeste smiled against his lips, loving the way it felt, loving the way Calum was groaning in anticipation. Celeste pressed against his front, already able to feel his hard on straining his grey sweats.

Then Celeste pulled away and Calum let her go, eyes opening questioningly.

Celeste pulled off the Ferrari shirt Calum had given her, revealing her near nudity underneath. Calum licked his lips, eyes focused on her chest. Then Celeste sat down onto the bed, her thick thighs looking deliciously curvy and grabable, Calum couldn’t hold himself back. He was between her legs before he could help himself, kneeling on the floor and tearing off her black silk thong.

“Calum!” Celeste laughed, fingers tangling in his curls. She’d not expected him to be so eager, expected him to go for kissing first. She had no idea how long he’d been waiting to taste her.

Calum’s fingers danced over Celeste’s calf and he moved it to be on his shoulder, his lips trailing up higher and higher. He kissed both thighs, nipping a little at the skin, fingers digging in as he held her in place.

“So pretty.” he mused, more to himself than anything.

Her fingers gripped his curls when his lips finally met her, wrapping around her clit. He’d had enough buildup. Enough teasing. He wanted to hear her moaning his name, wanted to watch her come undone under him.

The first moan was soft, more like a whimper, and Calum’s whole body felt like it was lit in flame. He sucked harder on her clit, fingers digging into her delicious thighs where they were on his shoulders. Her skin was warm and smelled like flowers, he wondered how she always smelled so good.

Celeste’s eyes were closed, lips parted, sinful, soft noises whispered into the cosmos as her lover devoured her.

Her lover… yes, that is what he was.

Calum was her lover in every sense of the word. It had just taken her a long time to realize it. He did everything for her and as he brought her to her first high, her heart filled with love. Love that had always been there, unidentified and growing. Now that she knew what it was, she was never going to let him go.

Calum licked his lips, looking up at Celeste. Her eyes were still closed, chest rising and falling softly as she chased her breath. He took her legs off of his shoulders and Celeste opened her eyes, looking down at him with a lazy smile. A comfortable smile. As if they’d done this a thousand times, “hi.” she said, voice near a whisper.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Her smile widened, “come here.” she said, instead of answering his question.

Calum moved to be on the bed with her, settled between her legs that wrapped around his waist.

He kissed her shoulder first, then her collarbone, moving up her neck before he reached her lips. When he kissed her, he kissed her gently. One of his hands came up to brush over her nipple, earning a soft shudder from Celeste that made him smile against her lips. “You’re so beautiful.” he told her, kisses traveling to her neck as she wrapped her arms around him, a sigh of content leaving her lips, “fucking love you.” he murmerred.

Celeste’s skin felt warm and her heart lurched in her chest. She knew he loved her, but hearing him say it was different. She brought his lips back to hers and kissed him like her life depended on it, part of her thought it did.

The pressure of his hard, clothes cock, against her sensitive entrance had her moaning within seconds, eager to get rid of Calum’s clothes. Soon, his Ferrari shirt has joined the one she was wearing on the floor and his joggers following soon after.

“I wanna top.” Celeste said against Calum’s lips and he paused, giving her a look but agreeing. He got onto his back and watched her straddle him, lining herself up with him. She sank down slowly, both of them groaning at the way it felt.

He had to admit it was a beautiful view. The first bounce had her breasts moving in a way that made Calum’s mouth water. His hands reached up to cup her breasts and Celeste moaned, continuing to bounce up and down on him.

Calum hadn’t had many religious experiences in his life.

This was one of them.

One of his hands went down to her ass, giving it a test smack that made Celeste laugh, her eyes opening. Her hands went to his chest and she leaned over him, kissing his neck while she continued bouncing up and down. He could see the way her ass was moving with each bounce and Calum groaned, eyes closing as he enjoyed the way it felt.

He was usually the top, usually the one doing all the work. It was nice to just lay back and relax and be doted on, especially since he loved her. Every kiss made him tingle and his heart was racing in his chest.

He felt the way he always felt after a race. It was exhilarating.

His arms wrapped around Celeste, slowing her motions so he could roll them so he was on top. The pace he wanted was faster than the one she had been giving him, and now it was his turn to make her feel good.

She looked so beautiful under him, and the feeling of her breasts pressed against his bare chest did not go unnoticed. He wanted to be kissing her, touching her, loving her.

He angled his hips differently, hitting a spot inside of her that had Celeste’s legs tightening around his waist, “holy shit.” she breathed, moaning loudly.

Her fingers went to his curls again, tugging lightly at the dark strands. Their lips were passionate and slow against each other, tongues clashing, teeth biting. Then Calum grabbed one of her hands, interlocking their fingers as he pressed it down into the bed.

“I’m gonna-” Celeste began but Calum cut her off with his lips, pace quickening.

The whole bed was moving with each thrust, and Celeste’s whines were getting louder as he kissed her. He could feel her fluttering around him, a sign of her impending high. Celeste squeezed Calum’s fingers tight, high whimpers stopping as her whole body tensed, orgasm hitting her.

She was so tight around him that Calum came too, thrusts getting sloppy as they rode out their highs. Their kisses were open-mouthed, both of them moaning into each other's mouths.

When they were both done, Calum stopped gripping her hand so hard, instead, he pressed soft kisses over her face. “Fuck, I love you.” he whispered.

Celeste smiled up at him, “I love you more.”

“Not possible.”

***

The usual patrons of the bar watched the gorgeous couple play pool.

She was dressed in red, a colour she’d adopted to support her boyfriend. The colour made her glow, but her boyfriend’s smile was brighter. He watched her with complete adoration, even when she sunk a ball and got one step closer to beating him.

They were the same people they’d been when they were strangers.

He’d quit smoking, claiming he didn't need the high anymore, after all, he was with the love of his life. He still sometimes brought a cigarette or two to give to the bouncers, chatting with them outside before joining Celeste in the bar.

Celeste still played pool with girls who challenged her, but this time, Calum would come to stand behind her. Watching, his arms looped around his girlfriend, enjoying the way she chatted to the girls like they were old friends.

But they were happier, elevated versions of themselves. They’d always dazzled before, but together, they were an unstoppable force. They had the type of happiness people could only dream of.

Calum had always heard that if you dated your best friends, things would be okay.

With Celeste, his best friend, in his arms, he knew it was true. Her smile was contagious, it always had been. Watching her dance away, her dress teasing him, Calum was thankful for everything that had happened.

There’d been a time he hated himself for not talking to her, but it had led him to where they were now. He’d never believed in fate.

He did now.

********

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mcnished · 5 years

Text

So last week De Limburger published a pretty great interview with Robin Frijns, so I tried to translate it. Short warning, I’m no professional translator so the translation won’t be perfect. It’s a long one folks, so get yourself some coffee because you’ll need it. All the credits go to the original author, except for the translation, which is mine.

Robin Frijns puts past behind him: “Formula 1 was very unfair for me.”

Yes, he admits he had been jealous when Max Verstappen rapidly broke through in Formula 1. Why didn’t he get the chance? But Robin Frijns has put the past behind him. “Sometimes I think: would Formula 1 have made me happy? All those fake friends, everyone trying to profit from your success.”

Right in the hallway of his lily-white, freestanding house in Lanaken, a little across the border at Maastricht, it becomes clear why Robin Frijns (28) was accredited with a bright future in Formula 1. His biggest trophies are displayed like a hall of fame, won on circuits across the globe. With his status as a future racing talent, he was standing on the doorstep of the pinnacle of motorsport, even before the rise of contemporary Max Verstappen, but nonetheless, his dream was shattered. A sensitive subject matter which we, so we guess, could best wait to discuss until the ice is broken. But we’re barely seated when Frijns opens it up himself, determined to clear the air.

Press agency ANP published in 2012, right before you were testing a car with Red Bull, an interview in where you proclaim that “Red Bull drivers are treated like dogs”. You contest that you’ve never said that.

“That story is completely false. The conversation with that journalist took place two weeks earlier, over the phone. He screwed me. He wrote down things I’ve never said. I spoke to him once, after that never again. I’m still waiting for him to call. No, I won’t say his name.”

Did he put the words in your mouth?

“No.”

Did he make up stuff?

“Yes. Look, Red Bull has always been known for quickly putting aside drivers if they didn’t perform. Dropped. But that’s the truth, everybody knows that. Every once in awhile it isn’t fair, that depends on the situation. That came up in the conversation, but the word ‘dogs’ was never used. I have friends who were at Red Bull. Okay, they have had it rough, but it’s thanks to Red Bull that they’ve come so far.”

What would you like to change about yourself?

“That people who don’t know me get a better idea of who I am. That image was created in the past. I’ve been with Audi for years, if they didn’t appreciate me, I would’ve been long gone.“

What was the last time you cried?

“Good question. (long silence) When my dog died, in 2012. His name was Bikkel, a Bordeaux Dog. He was only three years old. In the morning I found him in his kennel, a heart attack. Cold as ice, stiff, I’ll never forget that.”

What do you regret?

“I regret that I’ve trusted people too easily, managers for example. I didn’t have the right people around met at the right time. One manager once demanded three ton from me. He lost that case. I recently ran into me, he shook my hand. What I think when that happens? Absolutely nothing.”

Who would you like to spend 24 hours with?

“Ayrton Senna. He always said how it was, was passionated, loved his country. He never forgot where he came from. Some people compare himself to him, like Hamilton. Senna stayed himself, Hamilton didn’t. I appreciate his driving skills, not his personality.”

Are you still being haunted by that publication?

“Yes, still. That stone started rolling and it feels like it has never really stopped. For some, it’s rolling still.”

If you’re so convinced about being right, why have you never taken action?

“If so, I, a layman from motorsports, would have to take it up against a journalist of ANP. Against such a big corporation.”

You didn’t have any good experiences with Bild, the biggest tabloid of Germany, either.

“My manager at the time had contacts there. He let them record that I’m so difficult to work with. That hurt me even more than the whole Red Bull story. We split after that. Later teams said to me: “you are so difficult”. Where is that coming from, I thought. That image caused a reluctant effect on people who didn’t know me. Only after I’ve tested for them, did they know who I really was.”

How do you describe yourself?

“I don’t like dishonesty, I can’t work with it. I’m very direct. Say what I want to say, but always based on something. And I never show myself when I don’t know someone. That’s a disadvantage... I have to get to know them first.”

You’ve been a test driver for various F1 teams in the years following that infamous ANP piece, but you never got a real chance. Why didn’t it happen?

“De F1 world was very unfair for me. At certain moments I drove faster than the drivers who did have a seat. Like Hülkenberg. Or Ericcson. But I didn’t bring millions. Others did. They shook my hand and I could leave. How unfair is that? I didn’t feel appreciated. That’s when the joy vanished. Compare it to football: if you move from Ajax to Barcelona, but you spend the whole year on the bench, what did you gain?”

Did you ever try to get those millions yourself?

“I have tried to play the game, but I missed the background in that world to achieve it. There were businessmen with interest in F1, but they all came from above the rivers. They didn’t see me as Dutch. Because I’m from Maastricht.”

Did your reputation play a part in this?

“People in business don’t read that stuff. It’s about investments, I think. “

How long did you need to process this broken F1 dream?

“At least two years. I just wasn’t feeling well. Constantly annoyed.”

Did you have someone to cry with?

“No, I did it on my own. My father struggled a lot, he’s just like me. He felt that injustice as well. Support? My parents have always supported me, up to a certain point.”

Are you guys talkers?

“A little. I’m from a family who isn’t involved with motorsport at all. The whole family loves football, my brother played for MVV [Maastricht’s football club]. I rolled into that world, without knowing where I’d end up. My father is a real businessman in the steel industry. He doesn’t understand the racing world.”

Not long after you Max Verstappen rose through the ranks, at lightning speed. He’s a world star now. Don’t you think: this could have been me?

“Of course, yes. I have never driven against Max, so I can’t say who’s better. That comparison is bullshit. But I certainly would have been at the same level as Max.”

Are you jealous of his success?

“Maybe a bit in the beginning. But not for the last three, four years. There’s always a pro and a con. I talked to him a few times. I don’t have anything against Max, amazing how he’s doing, a lot of respect. Especially for his dad, I know him much better than Max. But I don’t know if I want to be in the position he’s in.”

Why not?

“I want to be free in the things I do. If I were Max. I’d live in Monaco. Something I absolutely do not want. When I’m home, I want to be home, close to Maastricht. If I were at Max’s level I wouldn’t be able to go to a terrace, drink coffee in peace. That’s the flipside. Of course, at the track, a lot of people come to you, nothing wrong with that. But at a certain point, especially after a shitty race, you think: please leave me alone. 24/7 attention, it would drive me crazy.”

You currently drive in both Formula E and DTM. Does that give you enough satisfaction?

“I joined Audi three, four years ago. That’s when it started to go better. They really appreciate me, they know me and they work well with me. With DTM and Formula E, I’ve found the fun again. The future? I want to be competitive, that’s the most important thing. When I’m 36 or 37 and I notice I’m no longer competitive, I’ll retire.”

Sustainability is a big theme nowadays. Do you think Formula 1 will merge with Formula E?

“I think Formula E will fight Formula 1. But they can’t compete yet. FE has only existed for six years, F1 for almost seventy. Although I see that a lot more racing becomes electronic. You have Moto E, rallycross E. If you ask me now whether it has a future, I’d say yes. But maybe it will be different in ten years.”

Does idealism play a part in your choice for Formula E?

“That’s the same thing as not eating meat because you’re against animal cruelty. Honestly? A little, I think. Of course, it’s more about my career. But I do see the dense smog above China. You don’t have that in Maastricht.”

Your father once mentioned on the radio that he doesn’t like it at all, that speed. Does that affect you?

“I think every parent feels like that. The worst thing that can happen to you, is losing your own child. I’m very sober about this. It’s a dangerous sport. If you crash, so be it. But it does something to you when you hear about one. When I was on holiday in Santorini this summer, I got a text from Linsey, a good friend I’ve known for twelve years. She wrote: if you do this to me, I’ll kill you. I thought: what is she talking about? When I searched YouTube, I saw that Anthoine Hubert had a fatal crash in Francorchamps. I was quiet all day. I notice, the older I get, the more it affects me. I too want kids, in the future.”

Do you have a relationship?

“I’ve been together with Maike, a German, for over a year. She is a communications officer at ABT Sportsline, the DTM team I drive for. She lives 700 kilometres away, south of Munich. We see each other every weekend, I’m happy with her. It’s a long drive, I once did it in four hours. At night. Cruise control, 300 per hour, you’re there in no time.”

Was it love at first sight?

“No, I don’t believe in that. Win trust first, that’s how I am. If I enter someone’s house, it’s never, hey, here I am.”

And then you give all of you?

“Yes. But when someone turns their back to me, it’s over quickly with me. For me no means no. A lot of people know that. If it’s a disadvantage, I don’t know. It does have something, I think.”

Formula 1, is that book closed for good?

“If I could prove myself at a decent team, with a multiyear contract, I would consider it. But if I would want it? I don’t know. Sometimes I think: would Formula 1 have made me happy? All those fake friends, all those people who try to benefit from your success. No, that doesn’t make me happy. I know who I have now. Parents, friends, my girlfriends. People who only want what’s best for you. People who value you. If you’re world-famous, those are hard to find.

#robin frijns #formula e #fe #dtm #my translations #sorry my theme sucks #but i'm trying to find a better one

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evien-stark · 5 years

Text

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 37

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Tony was in the middle of going between writing frantically on his holo-board and then typing things into his computer. Clearly busy.

“I can handle SHIELD. And you’ve got a lot on your plate, it looks like.” Trying to build the new specs of his suit. Always working. Always improving. “I’ll stop by once I’m done. I’ll have to change anyway, I have a meeting after.” So they couldn’t keep you there all day. Or kidnap you or do anything shady. You were expected places.

As you approached, he turned away from his work to give you a little kiss on the cheek. But he put down his pen so that he could take the blue tinted lenses from his pocket and hand them to you. “Take these.”

It was just supposed to be their preliminary tests, whatever that meant. To put you on their little grid or whatever it was. To find out what your true potential was before you started training. “I’m not trying to start trouble...” Bringing in those high-tech specs would definitely piss Fury off, for sure.

“They’re coded to you. Anyone else tries to put them on they just look like sunglasses. They won’t catch you. I promise.” Giving that winning Stark grin. Outsmarting SHIELD was becoming his new favorite thing- that and protecting you. You suspected he’d be listening in if you brought them…

But maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. Just in case. Just in case. You still didn’t fully trust these people after everything they’d put you through. Aside that, you didn’t want Tony to be stressing about you being in some secret government facility with no access to you if things got strange. So, with that in mind, you took them, slipping them into the inside pocket of your jacket. “Alright. But, really, it’s just supposed to be an hour or two. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“And I’m the one that gets lectured about not tempting fate.” A roll of his eyes and a scoff as he turned back to his board. You gave him a little playful smack on the backside, pulling a laugh out of him.

The sass of this man. Honestly.

The drive to their new warehouse setup was blessedly short. Almost like they’d picked a spot parked a few miles from the house on purpose. Knowing them…? Anything was possible. Maybe it’d just be easier for everyone if they were that close, you supposed. Since you’d be working with them for the next few months. Whatever made it go faster, that was better.

As before, they’d sent someone for you, which wasn’t unusual. But it made you a little bit nervous. While you didn’t want Happy mixed up in stuff like this either, it may have made you feel better to have some security around. All you had was yourself and a pair of sunglasses, and as far as SHIELD was concerned- just yourself.

You tried to settle your nerves as the car pulled around the various checkpoints of the compound and brought you right up to the front door. There was something annoying about having to pass yet another security check as you walked through the door and received a pat down. The officer (dressed quite aggressively in a bullet proof vest and a rifle slung across his back) pulled the glasses out of your pocket, looked at them, and then handed them back to you and gave you a pass.

Easy.

They were acting like they were under threat. But they’d been expecting you. So all you could surmise was that Fury was putting on a show for you. Much like everything else he did. Letting you know he was in charge. Not you.

The charade continued as you were shown to a small conference room with blindly bare walls, a long table and an uncomfortable chair to sit in. And continued further when he made you wait for fifteen minutes before finally blessing you with his presence.

Not only his, but someone dressed like a doctor as well. Your nerves flared.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for making me wait.”

He grinned with a little shake of his head. “Ready to work? That’s good. First thing’s first. We need some vials of blood.”

“Absolutely not.” The two words rushed out of you, clipped and incredulous.

“This will go a lot faster if you just do what I say.” Very suddenly it felt like you were in a lock down. And you’d willingly walked into it. “We can ascertain a lot more information that way.”

“I said no. Don’t ask me again.” Crossing your arms. SHIELD wanted your blood? How much sketchier could this get? Even if he was telling the truth- if they could see things in your blood that were super powered or whatever… wouldn’t hospitals before have seen the same thing? You’d been to a doctor before. Had blood taken before. If something was off, wouldn’t everyone else have been able to see it?

No one had ever mentioned anything like that to you.

Fury put his hands on his hips, shaking his head. “Are you gonna be difficult all day?”

“If you keep asking me for blood.”

This was not off to a great start. But that was his fault. He just kept on shaking his head until waving away the doctor that had come in. When they’d left, he finally sat down, folding his hands together. “From our reports we’ve already gathered a lot of your data. We’re just gonna double check our work.”

He slid a folder your way, one with your name on it- your codename, which they still hadn’t changed. Although to be fair you hadn’t told them what you’d like to be called. Opening it you looked at the sparse details inside.

Intelligence: 2 Strength: 1 Speed: 1 Durability: 3 EP: 1 FA: 1

Their grading system. You weren’t sure how high it went. If it went out of ten you were doing pretty poor, all things considered. And EP and FA you had no idea what that meant. “So what do you need today?”

“We’re gonna hook you up to machines, old school. Make you run on a treadmill and look at some stuff on a screen. Like I said, we’ve got a lot on you already. Those numbers are pretty much set.”

“So I joined a gym?” Still playing unimpressed. Because, yet again, Fury was talking like SHIELD knew everything about you already, and yet was still asking you to do things for them. Honesty might as well have been this man’s worst enemy.

He looked very unamused as you closed the folder and glanced back up at him. “You’re gonna join nothing if you keep mouthing off. Did I hire two Starks? Or can you be your own person for one second.”

At this you made a face. “Not trusting you or liking this situation does not make me Tony.”

“Your mouth does.”

He may have had a point. Your sarcastic retorts may have been borrowed. But sometimes it was easier to pretend to be someone far more confident and in control…

Suddenly Fury stood up and motioned for you to do the same, something you did much to his relief. Maybe you should start using a lot more of that. It may have helped in the situation. “Come on. We’ve got work to do and I don’t have all day to babysit you.”

“I don’t have all day, either. I have a meeting in two hours.” Letting him know, though you’d already sent that information over. Just doubling down on that you would not be here all day.

Following him out the door and down the hall, you found a terribly cliched room behind the next door he opened. He wasn’t kidding. A treadmill with wires hanging from the ceiling and a screen ahead. Lucky you’d worn sneakers. “You’re… serious?” He wanted you to run around and … do what?

“Dead serious. Get comfortable. If you need a tank top we’ll provide one. You can’t wear that.” Nodding to your jacket and sweater.

Giving him a very distrusting look, “Why?”

“See those?” He pointed to the wires hanging, pads at the ends of each one. “Those need to be on your skin. If you make me explain every minute detail it’s gonna take a lot longer.”

Finally, fed up, you turned fully to him. “What’s your problem? Can you treat me like a person for even one second? I’m not a robot, or someone for you to just push from A to B. If we’re working together, you’d better catch a better attitude. Quick.”

Without another word you turned away from him, pulling your sweater off and dropping it to the floor, leaving you in a spaghetti strap shirt. You’d come with the idea that they would be putting you to work. So it wasn’t a problem. Gym clothes.

Still, it was strange to see him looking away, arms crossed. Shy? Shy about you doing exactly what he’d told you to do? Although you appreciated the momentary lapse, his showing of humanity for once. “Give me a reason to catch a better attitude and I just might.” Still grouchy, though, as he said this. Then he left.

Two SHIELD attendants were not far behind, helping you up onto the treadmill after and sticking those pads to your skin. There was no telling what they were recording, but you supposed it must have been important. Two went on your temples, one on your forehead, two on your neck, one on your chest, and a few on your arms. They instructed you to watch the screen very carefully and try not to trip.

The speed was going to ramp up every so often, indicated by an instruction on the screen ahead of you. Only a few seconds after they left the machine started. It was a brisk walk, basically, and images started flashing in front of you. Unintelligible nonsense at first. Shapes. Numbers. Colors. Random people you’d never seen before.

Just as Justin Hammer flitted across your awareness the track started going faster and you moved into a jog. More people you didn’t know- Ivan Vanko- shapes again- then buildings- Obadiah- destroyed buildings- numbers again. Equations. Some you knew, some beyond you. The speed increased again. The Expo was burning. Stark Industries’ front lawn- the labs collapsing- numbers, more numbers… products- soda, water- pills it looked like?

Explosions in Monaco- the speed went up again now sending you into a full run. You were out of breath. To your surprise you’d been at this for twenty minutes. Colors- colors- stones- blue- bright blue- intense weather- snow and rain- some empty place-

Barely keeping up on the treadmill, hands steady on the sides- blood- blood-

“Hey- I need- this is about all I can do-” Not knowing who you were calling out to as a series of lights flashed across the screen, giving you an incredible headache. The track went faster. “Fury!” Someone had to be watching, right? Scientists in labcoats on the other side of the screen scribbling nonsense on pads-

Somebody- anybody-

“Hey!”

At your scream the treadmill finally started to slow, enough for you to safely jump off. The rip of the pads from your skin was an annoyance at best. You were more concerned with evening out, hands on your knees, taking breaths in with your nose and out through your mouth. Was that the way it went? Or was it the other way around?

Not sure. But this seemed to be helping. So you kept it up.

A water bottle came into your field of view and you gratefully took it, standing, snapping the cap open and guzzling half the contents. Fury was looking over a folder- yours you presumed. “Not bad. Take a minute to clean yourself up and I’ll meet you in the other room.”

“Not bad?” Still slightly breathless as you asked this. “What does that mean?” What the hell had you been looking at? What were they testing for? Was any of this really that important?

“Just take it easy.” Even though he was talking to you a lot more kindly than he previously had been, this irked you, too. For some reason. Maybe it was just him. Fresh annoyance coming on when he simply walked out the door and left you there.

You pushed out a sigh and crouched again. Controlling your breathing. Doing exactly what he’d asked and taking your time. As long as it took for you to get back to relatively normal. Then going to the back of the room where you finally noticed a towel waiting for you and some fresh wipes. How nice. Well at least someone was looking out for you.

After finishing the water and toweling and cleaning off, you put your jacket back on, hanging your sweater over your shoulder for now. Peeking your head out of the room, you poked an agent on the shoulder as they walked past. “Bathroom?”

As soon as they pointed at the door a few feet down the hall, that’s where you went. Taking even more time to relieve yourself, wash your hands, splash some cold water on your face and dry off again. Cleaning up just a little more. Presentable. Decent.

Then, and only when you were ready, did you leave the bathroom to go to the room you’d first met Fury in. To your surprise, Natasha was there too. They were standing at the side of the table, going over your file- or your results- so you didn’t stop to sit.

“You moved a few points in some categories. That’s not easy to do.” Natasha smiled at you.

You weren’t sure enough of the situation to offer one back. “That’s a good thing?”

“Moved up, she’s saying. Yes. Bad intel more than anything.” So they were impressed with you? Was that a good thing? You guessed it may have been. Or maybe they were doing that thing that they did. Buttering you up. For what you still had no idea. You’d already agreed to work with them. “There’s one more thing we need to test before you can go today.”

“What’s that?” Feeling a soft sense of relief that it would soon be over and you could return to your corporate life until tomorrow.

“This.”

It happened almost too quick for you to catch. The shock and horror crackling out from Natasha was what caught you first. Not that Fury was drawing his weapon from his hip-

Or the ear shattering bang in the air-

“NICK!”

Not your voice-

Stumbling a few feet back from the force. Hand reaching out as your knees went weak, hitting against the wall. “Did you- did you just-” Breathing going shallow. There was a high pitched whine in the air. “Did you-”

Pain bolted through your side and that’s where your hands went next as you slammed a shoulder against the wall. Feeling a rush of warmth escape. Pour out over your fingers. “Did you just-” Stumbling over your words. “Did you just-”

“Nick what the fuck!”

Someone was at your side- Natasha you realized, just as your knees gave out and you slid to sit on the floor. You started in on a full body shiver. Were you still breathing? Where was-

Did he just-

Were you-

Nick Fury had just shot you point blank.

He came up into your field of view. “Would’ve been easier if you’d just given me your blood when I asked.”

“Get a med team in conference room one-”

“Belay that order.”

Your hands were pressing, trying helplessly to hold anything in- hers were pressing, too- “What were you thinking!”

Had that really happened? Was this happening right now? Were you going into shock? Familiar noises- A shot- a bang- shrieks- shouting- gunfire- a blast-

The door in the room flew back to the opposite side of the room. Nick Fury was nowhere to be seen- oh- no wait- he was on the other side of the room too- And…

“Hey, look at me- look at me, honey- step back or you’re next.” Tony’s face came into focus as the support of Natasha’s hands faded. No doubt because he’d just threatened her. He was there- Iron Man- Tony- “Talk to me, hey- hey...” Soft as he put a hand over where yours were clutching. “JARVIS I need vitals.”

“She’s fine.” Fury’s voice, tight. Somewhere.

What was happening?

“Try me again and you’re not getting up a second time.” Tony growled at him, you realized he was holding up his other hand. Repulsor ready.

“Tony-” You breathed out, quivering still, reaching up to try and hold on to him.

But he took your hands and put them back where they were. Blood. There was so much blood. “Right here. Hold right here and eyes on me. I’m gonna lift you-”

“Do not take her out of this room.”

Natasha whipped towards him. “Have you lost your mind??”

“I watched her shake off broken ribs and a collapsed lung at Stark Industries. We watched her walk off a severe head injury at the house, a burn injury at the Expo- prove me wrong and you can have your damn med team. Check her vitals again.”

Impressive, you thought to yourself, that you caught most of that. Or all of it. What was he really saying, though? Your shivering had stopped.

“JARVIS-”

“There were other ways to test for healing factor, Nick, are you crazy?” It spoke volumes that not even Natasha knew what he was capable of. What he was going to do next.

He scoffed. “Oh, please it was one bullet.”

“Well thanks for not unloading your fucking gun into me you fucking psycho!” Finally you found your voice, heat from pain turning into quick anger.

“There. Look. She’s fine.”

A rush of coolness touched your face, something you were very appreciative of, and you leaned your cheek into Tony’s palm. His mask lifted up, revealing just how pale he was over all of this. “Look at me. Talk to me. JARVIS says you’re stabilizing- sort of- not that I’m not ecstatic- but… you gotta talk to me...” He was absolutely spooked. Out of his depths.

Softly you smiled at him. Absurdity of the situation waning- realizing that… someone had shot you. Nick Fury had shot you. And Tony, at home, had come right away… “Hey.”

“Hey.” He smiled back at you, uneasily so. “I think it’s time to go to the hospital.”

“She just needs to lie down. She has something we call healing factor. I had her at a 3 but I think we’re gonna bump her up to a 4, considering.” Fury was standing, smartly, a few feet away. Although he was slightly curved in on himself. In pain.

Good.

Though you wished you’d been cognizant enough to have seen Tony blast him off his feet.

“Healing factor is an ability to heal outside the normal limits of a regular human.” Natasha offered, looking extremely uncomfortable. “And there are other ways to test for it.” Giving Fury quite the dirty look.

“She wouldn’t let me.”

Sitting a little more up, Tony put an arm around you, steadying you. Directing a glare Fury’s way, “Gee whiz, had I known my options were be shot or give a drop of blood, I would have pricked my finger for you.”

“You’re fine. We’ll take you to the recovery room. The less stressed you are, the faster it goes.” His know it all attitude was really pissing you off. Much more today than any other day considering the dude had shot you.

“I’m taking her home.” Tony seemed on the same page. Terribly furious. You’d rarely seen him this angry.

“We still need to run some tests.”

Tony helped you to your feet, and you felt another bloom of pain, clutching at your stomach with a hiss. “No. You don’t seem to get it.” Words as sharp as a blade. “We’re done here. Our involvement ended when you pulled a gun on her.”

Fury stepped closer, waving an authoritarian hand. “Oh- please. It was a small bullet. Went right through her. And that’s not your call to make.”

Tony raised his, the sound the repulsor beam charging lit up the air. “Why don’t you try drawing on me. See what happens.”

Natasha quickly stood between them, although she gave Fury a pointed shove. “Get out of here. You’re just making things worse. We’re gonna have a very serious talk about this later.” For a moment you imagined she must have been the boss, the way she was talking to him- and the way that she curbed him to heel, with a scoff and a turn and then he left.

Tony sniffed some air in, “You gonna ask us to stay too? Because I gotta tell you, I’m just about done listening to government agents.”

“What Fury did was way out of line. I had no idea he was going to do that.”

“I so believe you.” Tony made a face at her.

Finally, though, as you just caught your breath, you put a hand up. Wanting to hold on to him, only realizing you were spattered with blood. When he realized he took hold of you and set it on his chest. It strengthened you just enough. “I believe her.”

She’d been scared senseless when Fury had gone for his gun. There was no other way to interpret that.

“You can��t possibly still wanna be involved with this. With them.” Now Tony was turning his ire towards you, but it was extremely softened up as you looked at him. Still very clearly in pain. Still bleeding a little.

From the fucking gunshot wound. You understood why he’d be mad.

“If I never have to see Fury again, I’ll consider it.”

Tony was shaking his head lightly, while Natasha half smiled. “I don’t know about never. But… I can promise not for a very long time.”

“It’s a start.” You weren’t sure starting to where but… Tony was about to sound off again but you went just a little slack and his arms came completely around you, stopping his tirade in its tracks. “I need to lie down...” Surprisingly you didn’t feel very well.

Tony pointed a finger at Natasha. “This recovery room better be on par with a five star hotel. I’m talking skylights, room service, hot towels, jacuzzi-”

“Not that good. But. It’ll do.”

Once she moved to leave, you found yourself grateful as Tony quite literally swept you off your feet. Not having to worry about standing anymore, you practically wilted in his arms. This was crazy. This was crazy. Had Nick Fury really just fucking shot you? For what? To prove a point? You bet that was it.

Maybe you should have been able to predict such a thing. Maybe he was teaching you a lesson about letting your guard down.

The recovery room was a much darker color in contrast to all the white walls in the rest of the facility, softer lit. Sort of comforting and definitely soothing after everything else. The bed was small but looked nice enough. And, just your luck, there was a medkit on the table, and a sink in the other corner.

“I’ll give you two some privacy.” And just like that, Natasha was out of the room and closing the door.

Tony set you on the bed and then the suit opened up and he stepped out. “JARVIS I want a level 3 EMP. Throw up a signal jammer after that just in case. And then sweep for dead bugs.”

“Yes, sir.” You barely heard JARVIS’ voice from inside the helmet.

Shifting, releasing another welt of pain across your entire lower abdomen, you shrugged out of your jacket and pulled your top half up. Still bleeding- although maybe it wasn’t as much blood as you’d first imagined. And… Fury was right, the hole was small, as you checked, pressing your fingers against it in another hiss.

Tony was there in just another moment, on his knees, medkit on the table popped open. “Don’t move around so much. I can’t believe you want to stay here.” Grumbling as he opened bottles and tore packaging.

Half of your attention was still in a fog. Had all this really just happened? You kept hearing that question on a loop- and- Tony- “...how did you get here?”

Looking up after tearing an alcohol swap packet in his teeth his brows shot up. “You lose that much blood?” Reaching up he turned your face a little more towards his, examining your supposed pallor.

“No- well- maybe- I don’t know- I just… how did you-” How to ask this question? While you were very relieved that he was here, that he had come to get you- save you it must have seemed like…

“There was a reason I asked you to bring the glasses.” Sighing as he wiped away the blood with what felt like a trail of bee stings.

It got you to squirm, hold in a heavy hiss that exhaled on the next breath, your head falling back. Had Nick Fury really fucking shot you?? “You were listening?” All day?

“Not all day. They have something called Shattershot Detection. I wasn’t intending to trial it today. But… all things considered...” Mumbling angrily again as he tore open a packet of wet wipes and let you clean your hands.

“And you just- came right away?” This man was absolutely incredible. Although you probably would have done the same thing. Even just thinking about Tony being in a small room with no means of protection- and the sound of a gun-

...you felt terrible.

“It took me five minutes to get here.” Funny, since that all seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. He taped a gauze pad over the wound on your front side, looking up. And what you saw in his eyes crushed you. “That was five minutes too long. If they had had a mind to-”

You felt a hot flash of terror. And it was painful. More painful than anything you’d felt today.

If they had wanted to do anything other than whatever the hell this was.

If Nick Fury had had a mind to put you down…

You’d be down.

And the thought- the near actualization- frightened Tony.

Feeling fresh tears leaking- realizing the dried trail of ones you didn’t even remember crying before- you reached up and cupped the sides of his face. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “It’s not your fault. We were willing to give them a chance. They blew it. By. You know. Putting a hole through you. So let’s go now. It’s over.”

Before you could muster a yes or no the door opened and in walked Agent Phil Coulson, head down, reading a file. Just so casual. “So. You got shot your first day in training. Might as well come with a welcome basket.”

Yanking your shirt back down, you weakly directed a glare at him. “I’m so glad this is considered common practice around here.”

Tony stood, arms crossed, rigid. Blocking Coulson’s line of sight to you. “Well we’ve had just about all we can handle of your hospitality, so we’re leaving.”

The folder snapped shut. “I’d like to have a word alone with her.”

“Yeah. We tried that once already today.” Tony refused to budge.

A pause of silence hung in the air, and then Coulson crossed over to the sink, pulling a stool out from the other side and dragged it across the floor to the foot of the bed. Sitting down, one leg propped up, he set the folder down and laced his fingers together. “Fury has a very heavy handed way of getting what he’s looking for.” Pointedly ignoring Tony, who had turned to look at him, as he spoke directly to you.

“If you’re asking me to look the other way on him shooting me-”

“I’m not. But he doesn’t do things without a reason.”

At this you made a face. You had thought that was what this was about. “Teaching me a lesson?” Spat out at him.

“Not the one you think you’re learning. If you don’t want to trust him, and maybe you shouldn’t after this, that’s fine. But that’s not the point he was making.”

Tony waved a hand. “She’s not in daycare. She’s not a child. Anything that needed to be said could have been said. Pretending firing a gun at her is some sort of cryptic clue is nonsense- it’s psychotic.”

Coulson’s gaze stayed on you. “Have you ever been shot before?”

Your voice was small as you answered, “No.”

“Took it pretty well for your first time.” He remained extremely impassive, although he offered a tiny quirk of a smile.

Though you found no solace in the expression. “That’s what I’m supposed to learn? That I’m great at getting shot?” This was ludicrous.

“You’re not indestructible. But you’re not weak, either. Next time someone pulls a weapon on you, you’ll know you can get back up.”

Fury can’t hurt you. her. me.

The thought belonged to any one of you in that room. You weren’t sure who had it first as the endings overlapped. Maybe you, maybe you and Tony. Maybe Coulson, too. But it was there. You had it in hand.

You weren’t sure this was actually the lesson Fury had been trying to impart on you. Because it was a dangerous one, and would only grow more so every day you spent in their care. If all Fury had were weapons, he’d just taught you you could withstand a storm. Tomorrow you’d start learning to fight. And the day after that you’d start learning how to win.

You weren’t scared of Fury, very suddenly. You realized he should be scared of me.

“I can’t tell you to stay. But. Personally.” Coulson stood up, leaving the folder on the bed for you. “I think you should.”

“What a glowing review.” Tony moved to track him across the room.

Coulson stopped at the door, “We’ll send you the bill for all the tech you just busted, by the way.”

He shrugged. “Why don’t you just go ahead and put it right into my shredder. Save me some work.”

Reaching over, finding no strain in your muscles, you pulled the folder closer and opened it. Inside you were surprised at the heading,

Lady’s Final Grid Results 6/17/10

“Lady?” Mused to yourself. You had told them you didn’t like the other name, but had never given them another. But Lady? You supposed it came from the earlier spat between Fury and Tony- not to mention all the press recently with that title.

Lady…

“You ready to go?” Tony turned back to you, although he wasn’t exactly hiding that he was spying over the top of that folder.

Intelligence: 3 Strength: 2 Speed: 2 Durability: 4 EP: 1 FA: P/O 4 Under guidance of Black Widow

“Yeah...” Your voice was far away. Taking the folder and putting your jacket on you stood.

He moved to step back into his suit, and you were all too pleased when he held his arms open for you, eagerly letting him bend down to pick you up. Though you felt like you might have been able to walk out of there-

What a mess it was. Some agents were sitting on the floor, doors had been blown off, there was a hole in the roof…

“You really did a number on this warehouse.” Laying your head on his shoulder as he broke free from the compound perimeter and fresh air met your lungs.

“They’re lucky I didn’t do a lot more.”

Because he would have, you realized. Tony may have razed the entire place to the ground if things had gone differently.

You wondered if Nick Fury knew that, too.

--------------------------------------------

“Did you get what you were after?”

“I got what I needed. For now.”

“Good. Because I want it on record that I’m strongly against firing on potential allies. I don’t agree with what went on today.”

“Me, too.”

“Noted. Now get back to work.”

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter Thirty Seven

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years

Text

HOW TO BE GOOD

Microsoft. But after the habit of so many years my idea of work finally broke free from the idea of work finally broke free from the idea that work is boring. Just wait till all the 10-room pensiones in Rome discover this site. I don't feel like I have to bother being diplomatic with a British audience. It's a good thing. It would be pretty easy to write a novel, for example, or because you've been assigned to work on a Python project than you could to work on it. Long words for the first time that measures taken in an atmosphere of panic had the opposite of the intended effect. Because it's too easy for people who control a private company to funnel its revenues to themselves e. The average MIT graduate wants to work at things you don't like it is that there's no such thing. I realize I might seem to have to do so much besides write software. So while on average public acquirers behave like pooled-risk company management companies existed, there would be.1

Joe Kraus says you should try charging customers right away.2 If Hewlett and Packard tried running an electronics company out of their garage in Switzerland, the old lady next door would report them to the demo days we organize for startups to grow. Having coffee with a friend matters.3 But they'd be bad at picking startups. Every other funding cycle is in Boston half the time: it's hard to have odd ideas about politics. That version 4.4 Except not quite: whatever would be least work if your ideas about what to do without understanding how to do it on a smaller scale without moving.5 In poor countries, things we take for granted are missing. You're just asking to be made a fool of, because these are such powerful forces leading us astray, it's not saying much that America is more open to immigration than Japan.

There is one thing companies can do short of structuring themselves as sponges: they can stay small.6 For describing pages, we had to rely mostly on examples in books. But the superficial ugliness of Perl is not the absolute number of new programming languages lately. If there's something we can do is encourage people to do some of the best startups it produced would be sucked away to existing startup hubs.7 This is why hackers worry.8 There's no need for a Microsoft of France or Google of Germany. When I learned to program when computer power was scarce. And if you're doing really badly, meaning the company is making little profit. I do office hours I have to bother being diplomatic with a British audience. Which suggests there are lessons ahead for most of Octopart's life, the biggest distributor, Digi-Key is trying to stop them in order to get things done. I was a kid I was firmly in the camp of bad.9

In industrialized countries we walk down steps our whole lives and never think about this, I'm not proposing this is a fairly efficient market. The simplest way to protect yourself is to use the trick that John D. Oddly enough, the leaders now are European countries like Belgium, which has a capital gains tax rate of zero. I expect that, as with the stupendous speed of the underlying hardware, parallelism will be wasted.10 Which means it's doubly important to hire the best people.11 Most businesses are tightly constrained in a. Painters and writers notoriously do.12 To do good work, you need a separate word for startups, accumulated knowledge about how to cure it. But it's gone now. A hacker working on some programming language or operating system might likewise be able to design the core language, that would be awkward to describe as regular expressions can be described easily as recursive functions. Startup founder is not the sort I mean. So if they're all squawking, perhaps there is something amiss.

Because their current business model depends on overcharging people who have incomplete information about prices. I'm hoping once the present administration is out, the natural openness of American culture will reassert itself. I suspect that if you want to get anything done.13 Bill Gates, and Michael Dell can't be a good idea to save some easy tasks for moments when you would otherwise stall.14 And so hackers, like painters, must have empathy to do really well, I should introduce them to angels, because VCs would never go for it.15 What matters is not the sort of poking around that leads to new ideas. It works so well that those who can't do, teach some of the best hackers to work for a startup at all, because if your sponsor goes out of business, you have a day job using it.16

Notes

The history of the leading scholars of that. What has changed over time, which can happen in any other company has to give their associates the title associate has gotten a bad idea. If a company growing at 5% a week for 19 years, it increases your confidence in a cupboard saying this cupboard must be kept empty.

Programming languages should be designed to live.

If they agreed among themselves never to do this yourself. The problem in high school junior. It is just the local builders built everything in it.

But people like Jessica is not Apple's products but their policies. In 1525 he was notoriously improvident and was troubled by debts all his life. To be fair, curators are in love with their company for more of the VCs want it to the point where things start to pull ahead in the definition of property without affecting and probably also the highest price paid for a sufficiently good bet, why did it. Yes, there was a refinement that made steam engines dramatically more efficient: the quality of the movie, but some do.

When one reads about the other cheek skirts the issue; the critical path to med school.

For sufficiently small audiences, it would annoy our competitor more if we just implemented it ourselves, so we also give any startup that wants to program a Turing machine.

The first assumption is widespread in text classification. You should only need comments when there is one resource patent trolls need: lawyers.

If a prestigious VC makes a small amount, or an electric power grid than without, real estate development, you can do with down rounds—like full ratchet anti-dilution, which in startups is uninterruptability. Someone who's not a VC firm wants to program a Turing machine.

Ditto for case: I switch in mid-game.

Trevor Blackwell wrote the image generator were written in C and C, the world population, and spend hours arguing over irrelevant things.

Com.

Your user model almost couldn't be perfectly accurate, because investors don't yet get what they're capable of.

Google's site. That's a good grade you had a strange task to companies via internship programs. The average B-17 pilot in World War II, must have believed since before people were people.

A lot of people, you don't have those. But increasingly what builders do is leave them alone in the angel round from good investors that they were just ordinary guys. If there's an Indian grocery store near you doesn't mean easy, of S P 500 CEOs in the 1920s to financing growth with the best ways to get market price if they were offered were so bad that they are themselves typical users.

Paul Buchheit for the same trick of enriching himself at the leading scholars of that, founders will seem like a headset or router. This is, obviously, only Jews would move there, and I have no connections, you'll usually do a scatterplot with benevolence on the valuation should be your compass. Parents can sometimes be especially skeptical about Viaweb too. A lot of startups will generally raise large amounts of our own online store.

Who is being put through an internal process at work. The real problem is not always as deliberate as its sounds. The way to see famous startup founders is exaggerated now because it's a net win to do as a symptom, there are few who can predict instead of happy. This suggests a good plan in which case this behavior at least once for the difference between us and the opinion of the 70s, moving to Monaco would only give you more than the time it was because he had once talked to a degree, to a can of soup.

Thanks to Geoff Ralston, Harj Taggar, Jessica Livingston, Michael Seibel, and Robert Morris for the lulz.

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3one3 · 7 years

Text

The Sequel - 840

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

I miss boyfriend. I miss how he pats my butt all the time, and drags me into spontaneous aggressive hugs, and likes to be spontaneously hugged back. I miss that he’s so much bigger than me. He’s such a good chair. I miss how dumb he is, and how smart he is. I miss how he always smells like laundry. I wish he were here. One and a half more days.

Christina and her Quixtep were untouchable when they were both “on”, and they were “on” in Cannes for the premier spectacle of the weekend. Their first round looked like a warm up, and their jump-off was blistering. The crowd enjoyed it, the horse reveled in their atmosphere, and the rider admired his ability to perform and his ability to soak up adoration. He got a lot of more personal love after the prize-giving, plus apples. Christina was still with him when the hangover from the emotional high began. It was coming sooner all the time. The highs didn’t last as long as they used to. It was normal when the adrenalin and endorphins receded to feel a sort of low set in. It always happened. It was just worse that night, for some reason. So Dirk got a lot of clingy hugs when he finally got to return to his stall and get started on a big pile of hay. His person wanted to keep petting him, and running her fingers through his mane and forelock, and giving him nose kisses. Anyone who provided a major high for her got that love. It had been mostly Juan for days. He was the one she couldn’t leave, or stop touching and kissing.

It was a little depressing for the rider that when the low set in after the high, the person she wanted to pet and kiss was André. It seemed like all of her low moments were bound together almost singularly by her desire to find comfort in her husband, even when he seemed capable only of providing the opposite. Her Spanish friend took a stroll down the walkway toward the end of their row of boat slips to speak on the phone with Taylor, who was having some kind of personal issue and wanted her ex to help her feel better. Christina didn’t mind that at all. In fact, she needed a few minutes away from him. He really upset her with that kiss at the table before the Grand Prix. If he wanted to use the sketchy photo as an excuse to stop hiding their relationship, then she needed to have a conversation about it first, and it needed to involve the third member of their situation. She knew it wasn’t the most egregious betrayal. It wasn’t like he stuck his tongue down her throat and then stood on a chair and told everyone in the riders’ tent that they were sleeping together, so she couldn’t be too outraged. Her plan for him was just a level conversation in which she would let him know what he did wasn’t okay. He was always on her case about just communicating her feelings anyway. But in the meantime, while he was out of her immediate vicinity, she let a bucket of ice soothe the pain in her right ankle and let thoughts about her husband soothe the mega-high hangover. Lucky was helping too. He sat in her lap and closed and opened his eyes slowly and repeatedly for her in that cute and sleepy way only a tiny dog can do. Spencer was down at the end of the sofa by her left foot.

“I miss you. Don’t be late on Monday,” Christina wrote to her boy in Miami. They’d already talked since her win. His congratulations were offered, and he said he hoped she could do the same again in Monaco when he’d be there to celebrate with her. Dirk wouldn’t be there though, so it wouldn’t be the same. That bummed her out just a bit.

“I’ll be with you by lunch, unless there’s a runway traffic jam at the private terminal in Nice, which is entirely possible,” the BVB man reminded her. He was flying commercial from Miami to Milan overnight, and then using their regular charter from there. The private jet would drop him and Lukas in Nice and then deliver his parents home to Germany.

“If you can’t land on time you have to parachute down with Lukas.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone sent me a picture of me and Juan kissing the other night. I don’t know who. There was no message. And he says to ignore it. So I’m worried, and I miss you, and I have that sad thing that happens after the champagne :(((“ his wife wrote back. Juan wasn’t the only one always beseeching her to speak her mind and communicate better. He wanted open communication too. She had to tell him about the picture, not wait to do it in person because she didn’t want to ruin his night, or because she didn’t feel like dealing with it when she was already kind of upset.

“Kissing where? You have to be more careful than that,” he told her, his text conveying in its lack of excessive punctuation or emojis that he wasn’t that angry. Christina half expected the phone to ring, not buzz once for a text, so that flatness surprised her. I know it’s just a few words, but it sounds like he’s annoyed at my careless but not pissed off. Is that possible, she wondered.

“On the boat. It was late and there was no one around and it was like 2 seconds. Do you want me to send it to you? I think it was taken from another boat.”

“No.”

“Should I ask Tim to try to do something about it?”

“I don’t know. I think it looks worse if we try to stop it. It makes me look like an idiot. Were you wearing clothes at least?”

“Of course. It wasn’t like some passionate thing, babe. And I’m sorry. I HAVE been careful.” It’s just Juanin who wants to be all careless now.

“If you ignore it then maybe whoever took it won’t think it’s worth selling. It could have been anyone, not necessarily a pro.”

“That’s what Juan said.”

“Great”

“I really am sorry.”

“I know. It’s ok.”

Both Toy Fox Terriers’ heads lifted together at the sound of someone crossing the gangway. They were down on the floor and waiting at the baby gate blocking the couple of stairs on the left side by the time Juan stepped over it, and they followed him back into the covered sitting area. He managed to sit before they could hop onto the couch and take up the last bit of space at their human’s feet.

“Feel better?” the Spaniard asked, presumably about her ankle and not her emotional state. He rubbed her other leg with his whole palm.

“Did you have to give me that very boyfriend-girlfriend kiss in front of everyone when I dropped your shrimp?”

“Have you been saving that up all these hours?” he laughed. Christina just nodded, her face blank. “You looked so upset. I haven’t seen you that way in a long time. You’ve been nothing but happy since we got here. I didn’t want to see again,” Juan shrugged.

“Come on. We were literally just talking about that picture, and about people finding out. You’re trying to tell me you forgot the rules a minute later?”

“Friends kiss each other on the cheek, Chris. Don’t be silly. Why are you making a big deal?”

“Because it was clearly more than that,” the rider argued, frustrated. “And you called me “angel”. You don’t call me that in front of other people.”

“So what! Those are people you spend half your life with. You’re this worried about them hearing the name “angel”? Why do you care so much?” Juan argued back, evidently growing rather angry. Seeing him truly upset was always rare for her. It was kind of alarming, and made her feel funny, like when her dad yelled at her. She also felt like he was trying to impose a double standard.

“You care what everybody thinks too! You have a wonderful reputation in a world of idiots and bad guys because you’re careful and smart. You wouldn’t even let me kiss you hidden behind a car door in a dark corner of a parking garage. You don’t hug or kiss or touch your girlfriends in public, like, ever. You don’t even hold hands. Can you please not try to lecture me on caring too much about what other people think? You don’t have the good reputation you do because you’re simply the most upstanding and infallible guy there ever was. You’re just too smart and vigilant to get caught being anything less than that.”

“What is your point? What are you trying to get me to say?” The Chelsea man sat back against the arm cushion of the blue and white striped sofa and looked thoroughly over the discussion. His patience was historically short whenever she managed to get him on the defensive and he couldn’t pivot back to the front foot. He differed from André in that. If he couldn’t turn the tables, he refused to continue engaging. It infuriated the debate champ in Christina.

“The truth about why you did it,” she shot back defiantly. “Do you not want to keep us quiet anymore? Are you okay with people knowing, or having bits and pieces to put together? I’m not trying to make an issue. I just want the truth. You’ve tried two different answers already and neither sounds that genuine. And if you do want to let people figure it out, why? Do you think it’ll make it harder to maintain and then I’ll leave Schü? Or you get to feel like I’m more yours if everybody knows? Just help me understand your thinking. That’s all I want.” Infuriated or not, the night’s big winner had matured over her year of marital discontent. Her thirst for wins in arguments shrunk. The thirst for understanding stood out more. Getting answers was more important than getting vindication and feeling right. She’d learned that being right didn’t always mean her circumstances changed for the better.

“I don’t know,” Juan said, lips pursed and hands up and out at his sides. One of the dogs thought he was offering him a treat, and licked at his empty fingers. “I didn’t make a comprehensive strategy in the half-second between when you looked devastated about everyone laughing at you for spilling my dinner on the floor and when I opened my mouth to try to make you feel better. I just did it. Maybe it happened because we’ve been together almost constantly for four days and it’s easy to be comfortable.” His attitude was very “what do you want me to do about it” and “it just happened”.

“Okay.” He’s not lying, Christina concluded. I know when he lies to me, or tactically avoids telling the whole truth. I can believe he just slipped. It’s just...odd timing, she sighed inside, watching his blues in the bright light from the bulbs in the ceiling, or the floor of the fly bridge as it were. Being outside on the boat at night was the rider’s favorite part of having Lilly XO. It reminded her of one of those inside/outside rooms in a Spanish or Italian villa that she’d always wanted and had security questions about. There was something relaxing about it, and vacation-like. It was hard to imagine how the crew onboard saw the boat as their workplace, and their temporary home, rather than their holiday venue. It just didn’t seem possible to stand there and not feel the same. And she wanted to get back to full holiday mode- full calm- and away from the newfound tension with her best friend.

“I’m sorry if I upset you,” that friend conceded.

“I’m not upset. I was just...I didn’t want you to have made a unilateral decision to change our...privacy policy.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Okay. Can you hand me the towel?” She opened and closed her hand in the general direction of the fluffy white towel waiting for her on the coffee table, which was actually twice as far from Juan as from her. He got it for her anyway, and held it open to “catch” her frozen foot when she withdrew it from the mop bucket full of ice. It was late, but with nothing on her agenda on Sunday and a lingering buzz- not necessarily a good one- from the big class of the night, she wasn’t anxious to get into bed. Georgina’s number-two responded to the intercom call for snacks. The other English girl supplied pretzels and Coke with lemon. Christina found an old Billy Wilder comedy film about a May-December romance between Audrey Hepburn and Gary Cooper on the classic movie channel. Juan found a comfortable way to use her thigh as a pillow and took up 90% of the couch opposite the TV for himself, leaving just enough room for her to sit with her feet on the leather top of the coffee table and her pretzels on the flat arm beside her. That arrangement was okay with her because she didn’t necessarily feel like snuggling. She missed André. He was who she wanted to snuggle with during the funny movie, even though the German wouldn’t have appreciated the humor as much as his old teammate did, and even though she had every intention of sleeping in the arms of that teammate. A small measure of distance was required. They really had been together almost nonstop for days, and that wasn’t the same as being together all the time right before Christina moved to Germany. They at least separated to go to work and do their training then. And she was still feeling just off enough about the kiss and the ensuring difficult conversation that she wasn’t keen to get cuddly right away. He gave her until bedtime to decompress without a lot of talking.

“Are you going to be upset with me all day tomorrow too?” he asked her after she spent an inordinate amount of time in her bathroom and then walked back and forth around the bed to the “his” bathroom three times instead of just getting into bed next to him.

“I’m not upset with you now. I was brushing my teeth and washing my face and moisturizing and clipping my finger nails and-“

“Okay.”

“I’ll be done in a second. I just need my lip balm.” The rider pointed in the direction of her vanity, and her expression was innocent enough to sell her words. They were pretty honest. She wasn’t upset with him. She just had lingering upset about the situation. A minute later, after liberally coating her lips in vanilla and lemon Lush balm and switching off the overhead lights, she crawled across half the bed in a wife beater and lacy panties to give Juan a pleasant smooch on the cheek, as a show of good faith. “Just us tomorrow. And those guys.” Christina nodded at the dogs whose matching round shapes were identifiable under the comforter alongside Juan’s legs.

“I’m looking forward to actually sailing on the sailboat!”

“It’s kind of amazing,” she smiled as she folded her legs up under her. “And we finally get to get in the water. It’ll be like being on a boat instead of a floating hotel room. And I can sunbathe naked.” Her eyebrows blinked comically at the sleepy player and he leaned over for a smooch of his own, on her shiny, sticky lips.

“You taste like dessert.”

“Want seconds?”

He nodded and they moved together equally for a third, longer kiss. They exchanged angles halfway, switching the tilt of their heads, and making it a true co-effort. Christina felt a delicate hand wrap around her left bicep at the same time she pushed hers flat against the Spanish star’s chest. There was no need for a mental break from one another any longer. The two-hour movie-watching window was enough. Disagreements or tensions between them always seemed to go that way. They didn’t last. Only major mistakes made a serious impact. There was some kind of relief inherent for Christina in knowing that she wouldn’t be put off long. It made it easy not to stew over whatever put her off in the first place, and to actually use the quiet between them to relax and forget. That never happened with André. The Schürrles always worked out their problems too, and she knew that as well, but she was also aware that the process could be ugly and drawn out, and consuming.

“Come to the beach house after Monaco,” Juan willed her after he licked the transferred Lush product off his lips and while she unfolded herself and started tucking herself in.

“That’s the only week I get to go home,” she pointed out with an almost-laugh meant to hide her very real anxiety about when she would get to be alone with him again, her denial of which was also very real. There were 9 days between the end of the Tour event in Monaco and the horse inspection in Cascais. The entire Schürrle and Coletti clans would be there for that. The following week was a Nations Cup in Sweden, and then Christina needed to be in Aachen for 7 days. The jumping team for the Olympics would be named on the first day, and the horses nominated would depart for Tokyo a few days after the event concluded.

“Do half with me and half at home.”

“I don’t know, babe. Ask me again in next week. I have a hard enough time planning my next day and you’re asking about two weeks from now.”

“Your next day is going to be a nice morning sleeping in, some breakfast, sailing, swimming, jet skiing, tanning, more eating, book reading, probably napping, more swimming, laziness on the sofa, a shower, a nice dinner, relaxing under the stars, and then love with me back here in the bed.” The Spaniard waited for her to get settled on her side and then felt around under the satin comforter to find her hand, just to play with it. “That’s what it says in your diary. I read it.”

“Ohhh, I see,” she nodded, opening up her fingers for his. “What does it say in there for the rest of tonight?”

“Anal sex with Juanin.”

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t say that.”

“Just “pretty” sure? So you’re saying there’s a chance?” The more arched of his two brows lifted with hope and feigned anticipation.

“There is more of a chance that I’ll spontaneously turn into a dolphin,” Christina assured. It felt good to her to be able to completely move past what happened earlier. It was so easy. It was so different. I don’t know if I want to sleep now or make him talk more, she realized while she watched his slightly sun-reddened face on the other extra-large gray pillow. The lamps on this boat make for some very flattering lighting. His freckles look so cute. He looks like one of those preppy guys I grew up with after they spent a week at Martha’s Vineyard, on Daddy’s boat, but without the douchey smirk.

“How drunk do I have to get you to convince you?”

“I would literally have to be unconscious.”

“How much wine is there on the boat?”

“Juanin!”

“Can we go to sleep now?”

“Yeah but you need to kill the lamps. I’m not moving.”

The player switched off the small glass art deco lamp under the large boxy shade on his right first, and then leaned obnoxiously over his sort-of-girlfriend’s head to turn off the matching one on her side. She attempted to deliberately get herself stuck under his t-shirt so that she could blow on his stomach or otherwise be annoying, but she wasn’t that fast. The best she could do was close her arms around his waist like a vice and refuse to let go. All it took for Juan to get free was a reminder that he recently had surgery in the general area she was clinging onto. It got her to let go immediately and then apologize profusely for not using her head. He laughed and teased her for falling for it. He also accused her of making up excuses to keep him awake longer. Christina denied the allegation of course but she wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t in fact doing that. She enjoyed his near undivided attention for days, and then she didn’t want it for a little while because of what he did at the table in the riders’ tent, and then she was right back to not wanting to give it up. Even when beyond tired, his company was just good. She could have done with a little more pointless pillow conversation.

“Sweet dreams,” she said when she nevertheless conceded to bedtime and got her goodnight kiss.

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