Marc Marquez Imagines

The Meeting

Requested by sadprincesstessa

***

Tessa's POV

I was walking on the race track during qualifying time. I had no idea why I was walking on the track. Like literally on the track.

I hoped that I won't die. I was a nobody at the race, I was not a photographer, cleaner, engineer or something else. Just a normal girl who walks on the track, who's waiting to get hit by a motorcycle.

I saw an incoming orange motorcycle, which made me jump a little. It was going, really fast. I didn't even dared to move, though people from the grand stand kept on yelling to run away from the track.

I then covered my chest with my arms, closing my eyes waiting for me to get hit. But no, I opened my eyes and saw the motorcycle right in front of me. Number 93, Marc Marquez!

"What are you doing on the track?! Move! Or you're going to get crashed!" He shouted, of course he had to shout because he was using a helmet.

"Marc Marquez!" I squeed, not caring what he said earlier. I heard him let out a huge sigh and went back to his pit box.

I went off the track, because everyone was literally shouting for me to go away. I was thinking that maybe I should see Marc Marquez at the Repsol Honda pit box.

He was sitting down, both of his hands covering his handsome, charming face. The team was clearly busy checking the bike and not the rider, which it gave me access to talk to him.

He removed his hands from his face, then looks at me as he quickly raised a brow, not that amused looking at me, "You're the girl from the track, the one who obviously wanted to get hit and get famous by it." He sarcastically says as I let out a fake laugh.

"Oh, yes!" I cheekily smiled at him, a bit of pain in my heart. Like a knife just stabbed my heart for him saying that, maybe I'll impress him by my skills I thought to myself.

"You want an autograph or selfie? Or maybe both of them?" He asked as he stood up from his seat, walking towards me.

I nodded, "Both."

"Okay, where's your phone?" He asked as he hand out his hand to me, waiting for me to hand my phone to him.

"Uh, I forgot to bring my phone." I lied, looking at him as I let out a nervous chuckle, "We could just use your phone," I suggested.

"I'm not allowed to use my phone while I'm busy," He said, making me sad. "But hey, you seem pretty cool, we should grab dinner together later, yeah?"

My eyes widened instantly, "D-Dinner? As a date?"

"You could say that," He chuckles, "Give me your phone number and I'll maybe call or text you later."

I just smiled, excited. I mean, you'll be excited too when the Marc Marquez called you cool? And asked you to go out with him? I wrote down my phone number on a piece of paper.

After writing it down, I hand the paper to him, which he gladly accepted. "Thank you, uh-"

"Tessa. My name is Tessa." I smiled

"Right, Tessa. I'll see you later," He winked before returning back to his seat. Leaving me confused because he just offered to take a picture and sign one of my merchandise.

-

"So, for the lady, what would like to have?" The waiter asked, making me hum.

"Probably salad," Marc looks at the waiter then to me, smirking a little.

"Probably not," I scoffed and rolled my eyes at him, then looked at the waiter, "I'll have the peanut butter pancake."

He nodded, then left us.

"Pancake for dinner, really?" Marc raised a brow.

"Salad for dinner? Really?" I mocked back as he laughed at my response, "never ever order me something healthy unless I want to."

"Oh Tessa," He sheepishly smiled at me before looking around the restaurant, who was packed with people who were around their late twenties.

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