Lights Out • 1 • Formula One ✔️

Chapter 113

A dull, yet persistent, beeping slowly drew me out from my slumber. I knew even in my groggy state that it was an alarm, however I had just assumed it was mine. Only after a few feeble attempts to swat my phone on my bedside cabinet did I realise that the beeping wasn't coming from my phone. Instead, it was over by the sofa.

I lifted my head to try and better locate the source of the noise to find Max doing the same actions I had been doing moments prior. For a moment I had forgotten that he had spent the night on my sofa. I would've let him share my bed since we had done so many times before but that wouldn't have been fair on Charles. Max continued to smack around until he eventually found his phone (it had slipped under his pillow at some point during the night) and shut the alarm off rather annoyedly.

Max let out a loud yawn as he stretched and sat up. I stayed curled up under the warm covers as I tried to keep my eyes away from his rising shirt. Only my eyes were visible above the quilt as I had pulled them so far up which meant that Max didn't realise I was, too, awake for a few moments.

"Sorry, did my alarm wake you?" Max asked, stifling another yawn. He looked very apologetic as he stood up from his seat. I nodded my head slowly, caving in to the stretch I had been trying to contain. "I thought I had set it for half eight instead of half seven."

"It's alright," I groggily said, feeling the strain on my throat. For a few seconds, I didn't register why Max was looking at me with wide eyes. The realisation hit me when I swallowed and the familiar pain was felt down my neck - he had heard me.

"Your voice!" He took a seat on my bed as I sat up, a wide grin on his face. "Sure, you sound like you have smoked two packs a day since you were born, but I can hear you!"

"It still fucking hurts though," I whined, hand moving to my neck to caress the skin.

"You get your voice back and the first thing you do is complain? Why am I not surprised?"

"Hey!" I do admit, my voice was incredibly groggy even after the attempt to clear my throat. Max's analogy was pretty accurate in the sense that I sounded rather hoarse and croaky. Maybe I'd be able to do a voice interview if I sound like a man? Whilst it'll be pretty funny, I don't want to put myself through the pain.

"As an apology for waking you up and to say congratulations on getting your voice somewhat back, I'm going to make you breakfast," Max concluded with a smile.

"We would've been screwed if you didn't cook because I still have no clue how to work the oven."

Max rolled his eyes and stood back up from the bed. "You're hopeless."

"Still out-qualified you."

"Yeah, yeah," Max dismissed, waving his hand as he switched the hobs of the oven on with the other.

I moved so that I was sitting at the end of the bed so that I could better watch him in the kitchen. Since my hotel was a studio, Max was barely four feet away from me as he worked on breakfast. "It's going to be a regular occurrence next season when I'm at Mercedes. Are you sure you're not just going to sulk for our entire rela- I mean, friendship? I know you don't like it when I beat you."

Max put down the egg he was about to crack and then turned to me. With slow strides, he approached me before crouching down to my head level. His hands went to either side of my legs on the bed to steady himself as he locked eyes with me. "New regulations next season, schatje. I'm going to destroy you in the races."

I couldn't help but laugh. "I'd like to see you try."

"I can't take you seriously when you sound like that." Max bit his lower lip to suppress a smile. I placed my hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him back so that he stumbled. The glare that he gave me was short lived by a knock on the door. Our eyes locked in a silent battle as to who was going to be the one to answer it. I knew that Max wasn't going to give up and let out a groan.