VIPER || Oscar Piastri

Chapter 24

"And what if I had been on drugs? Huh?! Would you still have gone through with all this? I bet—"

Andi took a breath and went to speak, but Oscar anticipated what she was about to say and regretted his question entirely.

"No, never mind. Don't answer that."

He then slumped into his seat and rested his elbow on the window's ridge while Andi, who presumed Oscar had nothing more to add, resumed her 'Bike Trip' playlist that she'd spent a considerable amount of time curating.

(And refused to let Oscar have any input on - in spite of her new 'being nice' policy since, as she put it, "My car, my rules".)

*

[POV: Oscar Piastri]

It's like watching a child in a candy store.

I genuinely don't think I've seen anyone be as excited over anything in my life than Andi is over these bikes.

It's like talking to a completely different person! From the second we got here, she hasn't once made a sarcastic comment, hasn't looked at me funny and hasn't tried to get out of talking to me. In fact, she's the one starting conversations - and sometimes they're not even with me! I swear she's talking to herself.

But, with all that said, I suppose that just shows how little I know this girl. I assume other things make her this happy. Surely, right?

And, it also begs the question: If she's this content in this environment, around all these bikes, why isn't she racing them? Shouldn't that be the pinnacle of all this? Getting to actually ride them? I know she said she was taking a health sabbatical — but it makes me wonder... was that a statement or a bluff? I mean, I couldn't imagine simply getting to look at F1 cars - especially if I knew I could drive them. Even more so if I knew I could drive them well.

And if I knew I could race these bikes as well as she can, hell.

I'd go insane on the sidelines.

As I was deep in thought, looking at a collection of old biker helmets, I heard a high-pitched "Oh my god!" from behind me, making me jolt around. From across the car park that this meet had been held in, I spotted who'd made the (very nearly demonic) noise.

Of course.

I strode over to where she was, hands still covering her mouth from when she'd let out the belt. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, Oscar!! Look!!" She said, tugging on my sweatshirt's sleeve and moving it so that it aligned with the bike she was gawking at.

"No way, no way, no way—" She kept repeating. I squinted. On the sign, it said: '1951 Vincent Black Lightning', going for—

I blinked and read the number again.

$929,000 ?!

By the time I'd processed that that amount of money was written on some measly A4 sheet of paper with a sharpie, Andi had moved on to another bike. Then another. Then another.

She kept going, and I tried to keep up at first but after a while it became impossible. However, after a while or going around in circles, she stopped for good. 

When I went over, she was stood staring at one specific bike. This time, she didn't yell, tug or anything. Just looked, until she simply said: "It's a Triumph Trident T150. Road Racer."

She tilted her head.

"I've always wanted to own one of these. Well, I mean, I've always wanted to own any kind of classic racing motorcycle, but still." Her face lit up, she suddenly recalled: "You know, I own a model of this exact bike. It's only about—" she lifted her finger and her thumb and spread them apart by about 3 inches. "That big. It's difficult to get the bigger models, the ones that are like—" This time, she used both of her hands to measure the size of what a normal motorcycle model would be. "That big, because they hardly made any of them. But still, compared to the real thing, neither of them come close."

I continued to watch her as she held her smile.

She added, "Not sure about the blue, though."

I laughed, expecting her to shoot a look at me like she would normally — and maybe even roll her eyes — but she didn't. "How about orange?" I asked, half-teasing. She didn't shoot a look at me then, either.

I wondered, why?

But then she spoke.

But then she shrugged and said apathetically,

"Red suits me better."

                __________________

mwaHHAHAHAHAHAH

u guys arent ready

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STRAAAAAP IN YALL
from here on out WE MOVE. we move.