malicious | max verstappen

thirty seven.

ELYSE's POV

Ever since we said the 'L-word' to each other, we haven't been able to leave each other.

I couldn't even bare to stay a whole two weeks away from him that I decided to stay over at his house in Milton Keyes— telling Lewis I'd be staying with Ashley for more exercises.

And I mean— I didn't quite lie about the whole exercises things, it just wasn't with Ashley and they were a tad different than the normal exercises.

But for the whole two week period I spent with him, I could see us becoming something more than just friends with benefits. I could see something more. He took me out on the most extraordinary dates ever and I was always on Pintrest, picking out what to do for the next one.

But I was mortified to bring up how I was actually feeling and what I thought about the whole thing. I enjoyed what we had, a lot, and I didn't want to screw that up.

Being with him made me feel like a teenage again. But not a teenager who was drowning in drugs and fake friends, or sulking around because of her shitty and controlling father 24/7– but more like being a healing teenager who finally discovered what being loved truly felt like.

One morning, I was woken up by my phone vibrating like crazy. I groaned, so did Max who had an arm wrapped around me. I begrudgingly reached out to see who was spamming me this much at 9 in the fucking morning.

My dad.

I groaned again.

"Who is it, love?" A sleepy sounding Max muttered, still half-asleep.

"My dad." I started to get up, putting one of Max's oversized shirts over me. He quickly followed me to the living room.

I had about 20 missed calls and more than a hundred texts from my father. I dialed him back and it didn't take long for the him to pick up.

"Finally you decide to pick up the phone." Was the first thing he said.

I angrily rubbed my eyes and as if Max could immediately sense my frustration, he pulled me closer to him.

I took a deep breath before responding, "Well my bad for wanting some sleep, considering it's still 9 in the morning, father."

"Oh, that's perfect— continue sleeping on your ass while your disappointment of a career slowly slips away from you. I'm sorry for even bothering to call you."

"Wait– wait– what do you mean?" I rushed out before he ended the call.

"Mercedes' have been in talks with George Russell to potentially take up your seat next year." He informed me and my heart sank to my stomach— making it suddenly much harder to breathe, "And tell me, how many offers do you have so far?" I didn't answer, "Oh, that's right! None! Congratulations, daughter, I'm so fucking proud of you."

I saw Max's worried face silently asking me what's wrong but I couldn't answer. Not when I was trying so hard to not hyperventilate all while listening to my dad ranting on and on about how much of a disappointment I was, thinking how my career is truly over now, and the only thing keeping me sane right now was Max.

Before I could say anything, my dad hung up. Max managed to calm me down, and once I was over feeling anxious – I was suddenly so so furious. I was shaking with anger. Rage.

How dare they? How fucking dare they discard me after a season that came from hell? How fucking dare they?

Max gave me space, not pressuring me to tell him what happened— which I was so thankful for since I couldn't even utter a single word without going mad.