Great Britain, July 2019
"Oh, hey," Pia greeted Max when she entered the lift where he was standing.
"Hey," he greeted her back annoyedly. Something was off with him. He had that Verstappen pissed-off face - his lips in a thin line together with his cold stares.
"Wow, someone is a little bear." In Pia's opinion, Max was just like a little bear when he was angry. He growled just like a bear. The Italian could feel that Max had just murdered her with his stare. He wasn't overly enthusiastic about this nickname.
"Okay, okay," Pia defensively lifted her hands up. She didn't want to screw his mood up even more. "Where's Joanna, by the way?"
"Home, where she should be," he growled just like a bear.
"Okay? What has she done that she's grounded?" Pia asked, and she could feel once again Max's killing stare. He really wasn't in a good mood.
"She just needed to rest after that crash," Max stated when they left the lift. Pia should check out of her room and meet Lando because of the dinner with his parents, but that didn't seem important to her now.
"That was her opinion or yours?" Joanna wasn't the one to stay home when she didn't have to. She loved to be in the middle of it all.
"Jesus, does that matter?" he lashed out. He regretted it the moment he saw the expression on Pia's face. He knew how sensitive Pia was, but she was just too annoying with all those questions.
"Okay, let's just go and have a drink or two. Let's forget about everything," Pia suggested. The Dutchman looked like he could use to ease off a little. Or a little more.
Max wanted to reply, but he was disturbed by the ringtone of Pia's phone.
"Sorry. I have to take this," Pia apologised and went away from Max. She didn't want him to hear that she had different plans because Max would demand her to go to that dinner.
"Hey, I'm just dealing with something right now... look, I'm really sorry, okay? But this is important... I'm not saying that, Lando. Just tell your parents that I'm really sorry, but I couldn't make it, please," she begged the Briton. A part of Pia felt ashamed that she had turned down Lando right before dinner without any explanation.
"Let's go get drunk, Verstappen," Pia shouted as she approached Max. She tried to place her arm around his shoulders, but he was too tall for that, so Pia's arm ended up being curled around Max's waist.
---
"Alright, Max, listen to me, will you?" Pia asked her friend drunkenly. She put her arms on his shoulder, making sure Max would look at her. "This seriously is important," she wanted to keep a serious face, but she lost it somewhere in the middle. Max started laughing as well. It was a little bit after one in the morning, and they were still drinking. "You have to stop wearing your Red Bull T-shirts everywhere," she seriously said. She was serious. She hated that Max was lazy to wear something else.
"What's wrong with 'em?" he asked her offendedly. What was wrong with his Red Bull T-shirts?
Pia lifted her eyebrow. "What's good with them?" She took a sip of her gin tonic before she continued. "Look, you're a good-looking man, but those T-shirts don't do you any good." Someone had to tell him that.
"Joanna doesn't care," he argued back. His appearance didn't bother him that much. He would change something if Joanna would say so, but she didn't.
"Oh, Max. She's just afraid to hurt your feelings," Pia explained, even though she wasn't sure about it. Maybe Joanna liked him in the Red Bull wear, but the Italian doubted it. Max just shrugged his shoulders.
"Will you order me another drink, please? I'll be right back," Max excused himself before walking toward the bathroom.
"Pia," someone shouted Pia's name, but she couldn't recognise who shouted it. The music was too loud to hear the voice properly.
"Hello, Pia." Drunk Charles stumbled to the Italian. He was probably celebrating his podium. Pia was almost sure that Camille and Pierre were somewhere in the bar too.
"Enjoy your celebration, Char," Pia smiled at the Monegasque. She thought he would leave, but he just grabbed her hand and pulled her outside of the bar. He wanted to speak with her.
"What are you doing?"
"I just want to talk," Charles said before drinking from the bottle of beer that he held in his right hand.
"You're drunk, Charles," Pia said. She wanted to walk away, but Charles' voice stopped her.
"Wait, please. Let's just talk. That's all I'm asking for," the Ferrari driver begged her. Pia looked at him, and she needed to admit that he looked breathtaking. A white bandana was the only thing that gave direction to his hair. He was wearing a loose white shirt - a couple of buttons on top were unbuttoned because of the heat. He was worthy of sin for sure. Pia wondered if he knew how good he looked.
"I thought it wouldn't hurt that much to see you with someone else, but it fucking hurts, Pia." It hurt every single time. All those sweet gestures that Lando was doing - small kisses on her forehead, his arm around her shoulders, interlocking fingers on their way to the paddock, that little smile he would give her as he passed her.
"I know exactly how it feels, Charles. How do you think I feel when I see you with your picture-perfect girlfriend?" she asked him in return. They were in pretty much a similar position. If Charles thought it wasn't hurting Pia, he was foolish.
"Fuck you, Pia. You broke up with me," he brushed it into her face. Was he a bad person when he wanted to hurt her as much as she had hurt him?
"Because I was doing what was the best for you," the Italian yelled at him.
"Bullshit, bullshit and bullshit," he muttered to himself. "You just wanted to leave," he just said it for her. He had been afraid of it for years. He was scared that she had left because she just wanted to leave him.
"That's bullshit. I loved you. I would nev-"
"You loved me?" he asked. "You loved me?" he yelled his question again. "So, where were you when my dad died? Where were you when I needed you the most? Where was your fucking love?" he was yelling. He wanted to scream, cry, kick around him. Ultimately, he just wanted Pia to wrap her arms around him. He wanted to feel her heartbeat and count her breaths. He wanted to feel her love.
"Charles," Pia said, but he didn't look at her. So, she took a step closer and put her palm on his chin. The Italian brushed his cheek with her thumb while lifting his chin. She was looking into his watery eyes. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I really am."
"No, you aren't. You didn't even call me or send a stupid text." Tears were streaming down his face. Wasn't he worth at least one phone call? Was it too much to ask for?
"Sometimes I feel like loving you is a curse, you know?" he let out and wiped his tears away. "Of course, you don't," the Monegasque whispered while looking into the sky.
"I have a lot of regrets in my life, but I gotta tell you, Pia. Meeting you has got to be at the top of my fucking list." He wasn't screaming, he wasn't shouting, he wasn't angry. He was just disappointed.
"Wow, you're honest." Pia tried to pretend that Charles' words hadn't hurt her. "That's why I broke up with you. I knew I wasn't good enough."
"God, Pia, but that wasn't your decision to make." He took another sip of his beer while blinking a few times to get the tears away from his eyes.
"I just wanted you to be happy. So, I made that decision for you," the Italian let out.
"Happy?" he questioned. "You wanted me to be happy? I was happy with you, Pia. I knew nothing about love. I didn't know how to love and how to be loved. The only thing I knew was that I felt good with you. I felt safe. You wanted me to be happy? You should've stayed."
"Do you think I don't know it now?" She went with her fingers through her hair. "Of course, I should've stayed. I would if I had a chance to do it again, but I don't."
"Who said you don't?" He was yelling at his ex-girlfriend. "Why the fuck would I kiss you otherwise? Do you think I'm here playing some sick games?"
"Of course not. I just-"
"You just what?" he asked her angrily. "You're just not enough? Fuck it, Pia. Stop trying to be so perfect. Stop with it. Stop making decisions for me." How could she possibly know if she was enough or not? It was Charles' decision to make. Pia was enough in his eyes.
"So, what do you want, Charles?" she asked and looked up. She didn't know what she wanted to hear. The Italian was afraid that Charles would say that he didn't want to see her again, but she was also scared that he would say he wanted to give it another try. Giving it another try would mean breaking up with Lando, and Pia doubted she was ready to break another heart.
"Haven't I made it pretty clear?" the young Ferrari driver stated. He wanted Pia with all her bullshit, flaws and bad habits. He wanted everything.
"You are with Charlotte," Pia argued. Would Charles really break up with Charlotte to be with Pia again?
"I don't have to be. Pia," he shouted. He was foolish, and he knew it. He would drop everything for that petite Italian. He would throw away his life to be with her again. "Just tell me what you want."
"You. I want you," Pia whispered before she reached up and pulled him down to her. She felt again the rush of helplessness, the sinking yielding, the surging tide of warmth that left her limp and then they finally kissed.
They were kissing like crazy. Like their lives depended on it. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, gentle but demanding. Her fingers gripped his hair, pulling him closer. It felt so right even tho his lips tasted like beer which Pia hated. Her mind was all over the place, so she didn't really care how he tasted.
He paused for a moment, and her eyes fluttered open, and he smiled, so she smiled back. And then he leaned in to kiss her again, sweet and feather-soft. And it almost felt too perfect.