It's Lights Out - Mick Schumacher X OC

Part 9

A few minutes into me and George talking about what his job insists of and me talking about what I do, the man of the hour shows up. Mick.

He spends a little while walking around and then slowly crawls closer to our table, realising where he's sitting. Next to me, while I'm talking to a very handsome British man. He looks like's not impressed. I try to hide a smile.

He slowly comes and awkwardly sits down next to me. 
"Hi, Mila." He says. 
"Hi." I reply, coldly, and then immediately turn back around to George.
"Ouch, that was a bit rude." George says to me, whispering.
"If he decided that he wanted to listen to my instructions this afternoon, then maybe he wouldn't be having this issue. But he decided to undermine my knowledge on something I've been working towards for 5 years, so he can deal with my cold shoulder for now." I reply. 

George nods in approval, like he understands this is a sore subject for me right now. He picks up mine and his champagne glasses, and passes me mine. I take it, where we clink them together, and take a sip.
"Oh wow, they weren't cheaping out on the alcohol tonight. By the end of the season, you'll be on £5 a bottle. Trust." He says. I giggle. 

I can hear a small sigh behind me, but I don't really care. I had my hopes so high after that meeting together a few weeks ago that I could get my best friend back. But he doesn't trust me, or my judgement calls, so he doesn't get the privilege of best friend Mila again. Strictly work colleagues and that's it.

The night rolls on, and so does the drinks and food. Amazing pasta dishes are passed around.
I have some spaghetti with this amazing vodka sauce.
"Oh my god, you need to try this." I say, swirling some spaghetti onto my fork and putting it to George, who eats it. 
"That's amazing. Where did you get that? I need that." He replies, looking around the table. I go and lean over to grab the big bowl for him, and he pulls down my skirt for me that was riding up.

A man who's respectful. Nice.

As I turn back around, Mick has a face like a sad puppy. He's been trying to talk to the person next to him, but they don't know each other super well and the conversation hasn't been going too hot. 
George places his hand on my thigh.
A shiver goes down my spine.

"So, Mick, you excited for this new season?" George says, leaning backwards to have a conversation with him. 
Mick seems quite surprised that he's talking to him.
"Yeah, rookie season. Hoping to score some good points." He replies, shrugging his shoulders. 
"Our investors are hoping that too. But, we're all super confident in you, anyways. If you're anything like your dad, you'll make it far in this championship."

I wince at the comparison between him and his dad, as it's the one thing he dislikes the most. I know how much pressure he puts on himself, so having the expectation to be exactly at the level his dad was breaks my heart a little. 

"Mhm." Mick replies, excusing himself from the table. 

"Did I say something wrong?" George asks, raising his eyebrows in concern.
"His dad is just a touchy subject for him." I reply. 
"Oh, I didn't mean to."
"I know you didn't, it just upsets him because he's always worried he won't be as good so he burns himself out trying so hard." I say, taking another sip of my champagne.

George takes his hand off my thigh.
"How do you know that about him?" He asks me.
"We go way back. We were childhood best friends, until around 18 years old. Lost contact when he went off to F3." 
He looks shocked at my reply. 
"Oh right. So did you guys join here together on purpose, or?" George asks. 
"No. Purely a coincidence. We hadn't spoken in 5 years since everything happened, so it was a big shock when he was announced."
"And now you have to spend the rest of the season together working over the radio." He says.
"You're telling me." I sigh. 

He pulls my chair closer to his.
"Do you think he ignored you because he saw the kid he grew up with, or he's just upset about seeing you again?"
"Okay, deep. Probably a mixture of both. Trust me, I was hardly thrilled with the arrangement, but these things happen. Little 18-year-old heartbroken me would die if she knew this was what to come." I reply.
George silently nods, like this goes further than he feels comfortable with knowing. 

However, we move onto happier topics, and get to know each other a little better.

As the night draws to a close, George gives me his phone number, and I do too, and we say our goodbyes as I get into the car with the team again. He kisses me on the cheek and lets me go. 

"You have a lot to explain, Missy." Ella says, as I get into the car and close the door behind me.
I giggle.
"He's so nice, and respectful, and enthusiastic. Shame he's only here for this weekend." I reply.
"Mila, do you know who that is?" She replies.
"George." 
"Well yeah, but he's one of the big bosses. And he's been flirting with you all night. Mick looked like he was on the verge of crying all night." 
"Such a shame, he's the one who's been rude to me."

Ella gives me a weird, shameful look.
"Give him a break, Mila. It's probably a lot for him to take in. His childhood best friend comes in after 5 years and now has to tell him what to do. And then starts flirting with a very attractive man next to him all night." 

I sigh.
"I guess, but I'm just upset that he would treat me like that. He was giving me so many signs that things would go back to the way they were." I reply.
"I get it, I do. But don't give him the cold shoulder. We need results, and qualifying is tomorrow. So please. For the team." She says. 

The car pulls up to the hotel, and we all hop out.

"I'll be civil with him, but only for the team. I don't care about being friends with him anymore." I reply.
"Thank you." Ella says.

We all take our respective ways to our hotel rooms, where I go in and flop onto the freshly made bed. 

When I get a message off George.
"Had a great night with you tonight. Let me know what you're up to this weekend. G x'

I smile. Maybe there's something positive to come out of today.