I CAN SEE YOU

seventeen

I couldn't lie, he looked good. I don't know if it's the alcohol talking or maybe the high from the celebrations today, but for some reason the buttoned down white shirt and baggy jeans looked a lot better on him than they normally do.

I hold his eye contact, not backing down from the stare off which is something I tend to do only with him, but all he does is send a barely noticeable half smile my way before fully turning his attention to whoever was in front of him.

I shake my head, clearing it of those thoughts. It's Max Verstappen, my childhood enemy, the man that I've always loathed with every fibre of my being, the one that I always want to beat, I can't be thinking that way about him of all people.

"I'm going to grab another drink." I tell the group, quickly turning on my heels and scurrying across to the brightly lit bar, hoping that another drink would drown my brain from these thoughts.

"What can I get for you?" The bartender comes up. He's about my age, quite tall with brown hair and blue eyes, but they weren't as blue as Max's. Fuck! What am I thinking.

"Vodka coke please." I smile, leaning on the bar for an extra bit of support. He flashes a quick smile and a wink before turning around to make the drink.

I take a deep breath and blow out slowly. I don't know what's wrong with me, I don't know what's gotten in to my head. Normally I'd jump at the chance to flirt with a cute bartender, but instead my mind is still floating back to him. I've never had these thoughts about him before and it's scaring me. He's my teammate, he's my enemy on track at least, and we're only just starting to get on. But for some reason tonight it just feels different.

My mind flashes back to the track, trying to figure out why these thoughts have started. Was it because we were staying together? I mean we still had our nippy comments to each other in the garage but now when there's no one else around they're more jokey and carefree. There's still that tension that the photographer had said consumed us, some moments were just awkward, but I just can't stop these thoughts.

"Here you are." The bartender slides the drink across to me with a smile.

Smiling back, I bring my purse out from my bag to pay for a drink.

"Put it on my tab." The dreaded voice sounds from over my right shoulder. The bartender nods back but I almost miss it being to intently focussed on throwing my thoughts out of my head.

A light touch on my lower back makes my heart beat faster and my palms grow sweatier, my breathing intensified but I use the coldness of the glass to bring me back down to earth, taking a sip of the new drink.

"Thank you." I manage to get out, still not being brave enough to look at him.

"It's me who should be thanking you." His lips brush ever so slightly against my ear, his warm breath tickling my neck - my weakness. It takes everything in me not to go weak at the knees, consistently having to remind myself that I'm surrounded by my coworkers and even my boss. "If it wasn't for your defending earlier on in the race and distracting the Mercedes' then I wouldn't have been on the podium."

"I was just being a good teammate." I can't help it, I turn to look at him. Our faces are millimetres apart with him still being close from speaking in my ear. Our noses almost brush against each other as his warm breath lightly fans my face, but it's his blue eyes that I get trapped in, spotting the lighter speckles hidden deep with his irises.

The corners of his mouth creep up slightly, just enough to display his teeth. "Well then I guess we make a good team." He takes a step back, and instantly I lose his warmth. As he takes another step back I see him subtly look me up and down before shaking his head lightly and turning in the opposite direction, leaving me alone at the bar.