When he finally reached you, he paused for a moment, his smile widening just enough to make you feel like the only person in the room. "Y/N, right?" he asked, his voice smooth and warm. "I thought I recognized you from some of your campaigns."
Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. "You recognized me?"
Lewis chuckled softly, leaning casually against the bar, close enough that you could catch the subtle scent of his cologne—clean and earthy, with a hint of spice. "Of course. Who could forget a face like yours?"
You weren't sure why, but his compliment made your pulse quicken. You'd heard similar words a thousand times before from designers, photographers, and fans alike, but the way he said it felt... different. It wasn't just flattery—it was like he saw something more than just your image.
"I'm flattered," you replied, smiling despite yourself. "I didn't think a world champion like you would pay much attention to the fashion world."
His grin deepened, the dimples in his cheeks becoming more prominent. "You'd be surprised. I've always had a thing for fashion. And besides, it's hard not to notice someone like you."
Your cheeks warmed at the compliment, but you kept your tone light. "Well, I guess it's a mutual thing then. Seven world titles? Pretty hard not to notice."
Lewis tilted his head, his gaze lingering on you as if he was trying to figure something out. "I'm not just about the titles, you know."
There was something about the way he said it—serious, almost vulnerable—that made you pause. You hadn't expected that. Most people at these events were all too eager to brag about their accomplishments, but Lewis seemed different. He didn't need to prove anything.
"I'm sure you're not," you said, meeting his gaze. "But it's still impressive."
He smiled again, softer this time. "Thanks. But honestly, I'm more interested in hearing about you."
You blinked, caught off guard. "Me?"
Lewis nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yeah. I see you at these events, on magazine covers, walking the runways. But there's got to be more to you than that."
His words stirred something inside you—an unexpected warmth that spread through your chest. For so long, you'd been used to being seen as just a model, a pretty face for the cameras. But here was Lewis Hamilton, one of the most famous men in the world, telling you he wanted to know more about the person behind the image.
"I guess I don't really talk about myself much," you admitted, glancing down at the glass in your hand. "Everyone's more interested in what I wear than who I am."
Lewis's expression softened. "I get that. People always want the headline version of you—the champion, the fashion icon, the whatever. But that's not the whole story, is it?"
You looked up at him, surprised by how much he seemed to understand. "No, it's not," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.
There was a brief silence between you, but it wasn't awkward. It felt like the two of you were sharing something—something deeper than just surface-level conversation. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren't alone in this world of flashing lights and constant scrutiny.
Lewis leaned in a little closer, his voice low and intimate. "What do you say we get out of here? Somewhere quieter, where we can actually talk."
Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion, the world around you suddenly fading into the background. "You want to leave... with me?"
He smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Yeah. I've got a spot in mind—a place where no one will bother us."
You hesitated for a moment, glancing around the room. The gala was still in full swing, the music loud, the people laughing and mingling. But for some reason, the idea of staying felt suffocating. You wanted to escape, even if just for a little while.
And with Lewis, it felt like the perfect opportunity.
"Okay," you said, your voice steadier than you felt inside. "Let's go."
The night air was cool against your skin as you and Lewis slipped out of the crowded ballroom and into the quiet streets of Monaco. He led you through narrow, winding roads, his hand resting gently on the small of your back as you walked side by side. The city felt different now—quieter, more intimate, as if the two of you had entered your own little world.
After a short walk, you reached a small, secluded terrace overlooking the glittering Mediterranean Sea. It was peaceful here, away from the flashing cameras and the noise of the gala. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore below filled the silence between you, and for the first time all night, you felt like you could breathe.
Lewis leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "This is one of my favorite spots," he said, his voice soft. "No one knows about it. It's just... quiet."
You stood next to him, taking in the view. The stars reflected off the water, creating a breathtaking scene that felt almost unreal. "It's beautiful," you whispered.
He turned to look at you, his eyes searching yours. "So, tell me—what's it like? Being in your world."
You smiled softly, appreciating the honesty of his question. "It's... complicated. Everyone thinks it's glamorous, but it can be pretty isolating. You're always on display, but no one really sees you."
Lewis nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I know that feeling. People think they know everything about you because of what they see on TV or in the media, but there's so much they don't understand."
You met his gaze, feeling a connection between you that you hadn't expected. "Exactly. It's like we're living in a world where everything's for show, but no one gets to see the real us."
He smiled, his hand brushing yours lightly. "Maybe that's why we're here. To escape, even if it's just for a little while."
The warmth of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, and for the first time all night, you felt truly seen—not as a model, not as a public figure, but as you.
To Be Continued...
•gravity part 1•
Start from the beginning
