Once again, there was a brief silence, with wallet guy's friend giving me an intense stare. Breaking the silence, wallet guy asked, "Couldn't find any orange?" He noticed that I was still wearing my blue tank top and white jeans. I shook my head and replied, "Nope, orange isn't my color."
Curiosity got the better of me, and I turned to face him, noticing his outfit change to an orange McLaren shirt. Chuckling a bit, I said, "Damn, I guess orange suits you." Then, I turned my attention to his friend, who was also sporting an orange outfit. "Your friend?" I tilted my head, asking. His friend gave a wide smile and I smiled back.
"Yeah, the others are waiting in the lobby," he replied as the elevator came to a stop. The doors opened, and I began walking out. After a few steps, I felt a grip on my arm. I turned around to see wallet guy once again. "Miss me already, wallet boy?" I teased. "Or should I say elevator boy?" He chuckled in response.
We locked eyes for a moment before he mustered up the courage to speak. "Uh, you mentioned that taxis are expensive, so I wanted to ask... Do you want to ride with me and my friend? We're heading to the track," he asked, nervously scratching the back of his neck with his other hand.
His kind offer left me stunned, and my jaw dropped in disbelief. "I mean, sure. But are you sure?" I asked, not wanting to be a bother. "Yeah, it's no problem," he reassured me. "My friends are over there," he said, scanning the lobby to find them.
I nodded in agreement. "Well, we can go now, but you gotta let go first," I pointed out, indicating his hand that was still holding onto my arm.
He quickly released his grip on my arm, a sheepish smile crossing his face. "Right, sorry about that," he apologized, his cheeks turning slightly pink. I couldn't help but find his embarrassment entertaining.
We walked towards two tall guys, who were chatting and laughing near the hotel entrance. As we approached, Elevator Guy's friend nudged him playfully and winked at him, earning a shy grin in return. It was clear that they were teasing him about something.
"So these are my friends," he said, gesturing to the two men who were smiling at me. "Ready to go now?" he asked them, and they nodded. We started walking out of the lobby, heading towards a big black car. Elevator guy's friend, also wearing McLaren merchandise, picked up his pace and reached the car before I did. He opened the back door and moved out of the way to let me in.
I smiled at him as I got into the car, "Why thank you," I said, sarcastically playing the part of a proper lady. He grinned widely and joined in the joking, "You're welcome, Madame," he said, giving a little bow before closing the door. It was the first time I heard him speak, and his Australian accent added a touch of charm. I looked out the window and noticed that elevator guy and the two guys from the lobby were lagging behind. They were in their own conversation, and the taller blonde guy burst into laughter. I couldn't be bothered less about what they were saying.
Soon enough, one of the guys went around to the other side of the car, lifting the middle seat to create space for him to sit in the back row. The Australian McLaren fan took the front seat next to what appeared to be a hired driver. The other guy followed suit, entering the car from the left side. The door on my right suddenly opened, and I shuffled to the middle of the seat to make room for the elevator guy to sit on my right.
A few minutes passed, and I took the opportunity to text my friends on the way.
Suddenly, the blonde guy to my left broke the silence, "Do you get into strangers' cars a lot?" he casually asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone. I chuckled and shook my head. "First time actually," I replied. "Do you let strangers into your cars often?" I playfully shot back.
The Australian in the front seat turned to look at me, breaking his silence, "We're gonna kidnap you, by the way," he said, his face dead serious. I chuckled nervously, but as the silence lingered and his expression remained serious, I started to feel uneasy. Suddenly, the guy from the back row leaned forward, now positioned directly behind me. "Nah, mate, Daniel wouldn't hurt a fly," he clarified. I turned around to see the smiling Englishman. Turning back to face the front, I saw the Aussie grinning from ear to ear. "I'm Daniel," he smiled, extending his hand for a shake. I shook it, and just then, the car came to a stop.
"We're here," the driver announced from the front seat. Both the left and right doors opened, and as we all shuffled out, I thanked them, "Thank you, by the way." I brushed a strand of hair from my face as I faced the elevator guy. He simply smiled. "You're welcome." We held each other's gaze for a moment before I received a notification on my phone. "Oh wait, I need to find my friends. Enjoy the race," I said, smiling. I began walking away when he called out to me one last time. "Wait! Here. Show your support for Lando," he said, his friends now waiting behind him. "Wow, I'm sure Lando would really appreciate it," I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes as he placed his McLaren hat on my head. "I'm sure he would," he said. I turned around and finally made my way into the venue, the group of boys following a few meters behind, their indistinct chatter fading away into the bustling sounds of the crowd.
~★★★~
After a few minutes of walking around, I finally found the spot where my friends told me to meet. "Oh my god, finally! Where were you?" Maya exclaimed, her tone more concerned than angry, as she pulled me into a tight hug.
I scoffed and rolled my eyes playfully. "Y'all left me, remember?" I teased, pretending to be annoyed. Hannah chimed in, adding to the banter. "You took long," she joked, shrugging her shoulders.
I couldn't help but smile at my friends' presence. "Long story short, I got stuck in the elevator with wallet slash pool guy slash gym guy slash yacht party guy. I just call him the elevator guy now," I explained, summing up my unexpected adventure.
"You never asked his name?" Maya asked, clearly just as confused as everyone else. I just shook my head. We resumed our walk, the destination unknown to me, but I trusted my friends' lead.
Speaking of the elevator guy, Maya suddenly noticed the McLaren hat on my head. "By the way, when did you get a McLaren hat?" she asked, curiosity lighting up her face. "Elevator guy and his friend are big fans of McLaren. He just gave me the hat he was wearing," I replied nonchalantly, shrugging it off.
As we continued wandering through the bustling surroundings, taking in the various team hospitalities and the lively atmosphere, a question popped into my mind. "When's the race?" I asked, taking a sip from my cup of water.
Valentina checked her wristwatch before responding. "It starts at 2:30," she said. I glanced at my phone and saw the time: 11:05. Are you kidding me?
"Wait, so you mean I was panicking for no reason?" I exclaimed, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. My friends looked at me, confused. "Dude, I thought the race was at like 11:30 or something. Why did I have to get to the paddock at 10 then?!" I blurted out, feeling slightly annoyed.
"So we could at least see some of the drivers!" Maddison explained excitedly, trying to ease my frustration. I just rolled my eyes, feeling a sense of foolishness for my misplaced panic.
"And I had to hitch a ride with a stranger just to get here on time!" I couldn't help but blurt out in frustration. Valentina's expression turned worried as she asked, "What stranger?"
"Elevator guy," I replied casually but still holding onto my anger. "He offered me a ride with him and his friends to the track." I sighed and muttered, "Ugh, whatever," before storming off, my emotions getting the better of me.
It might have been immature of me to throw a mini tantrum like that, but what could I say? I hated large events, I hated socializing, and my knowledge of Formula One was close to nonexistent.
I found myself sitting at some chairs near the mini bars set up by team hospitalities in the paddock. It didn't take long for boredom to set in, so I decided to rejoin my friends for some tours and explanations, or whatever they were excited for. Time seemed to crawl as we waited for the race to begin—or so I thought. It turned out to be only the first practice session, and we still had to wait a few more hours until the second one. It felt like a never-ending cycle of waiting. Strangely enough, I didn't run into the elevator guy at all today, despite our initial encounter at the hotel.
The next day unfolded in a similar fashion, although I had no encounters with the elevator guy. It seemed as though he had vanished from the scene. We just focused ourselves in the paddock club activities, filling the time between sessions. My friends tried their best to educate me about the technical and engineering aspects, racing strategies, and even the intriguing world of WAGs, as Maddison passionately shared her knowledge of who was dating who.
Finally, it was the last day of the Grand Prix weekend, and only the main race remained. I couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment that I hadn't crossed paths with the wallet guy since Friday. Strangely, I found myself missing him, even though we barely knew each other. As the race began, I cheered for Charles Leclerc, my personal favorite. However, in honor of the McLaren hat gifted to me by the elevator guy, I also rooted for his favorite driver, Lando. Sadly, Lando's race ended when he crashed into Pierre. At that point, the excitement died down, and I grew bored with the repetitive laps.
Feeling the need to entertain myself, I quietly slipped away from the spot where my friends were intently watching the race. I craved a change of scenery, an opportunity to explore the event on my own terms.
~★★★~
"I don't think this is a good idea," I voiced my hesitance, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement as I settled into the chair while the girls surrounded me, getting me ready for tonight's celebratory party. Hannah, who was doing my makeup, dismissed my concern with a playful tone, "C'mon! It's our last night in Miami. You need to have one last dance. And who knows, maybe you'll find your prince charming."
Valentina chimed in, interrupting the conversation, "She already has! Elevator guy, duhh," she teased, wiggling her eyebrows mischievously. I let out an exaggerated gasp, pretending to be disgusted, "First of all, ew! Second of all, ew!" I playfully denied any romantic connections Valentina was trying to make up.
Maya, focused on styling my hair, tutted in frustration as I fidgeted. "Stop moving! And let's be real, you've been talking about him non stop. Admit it, you miss him," Maya stated matter-of-factly. I couldn't deny that she had a point, but it wasn't as if I was attracted to him or anything... right? Ugh, I needed to snap out of it.
After a few more minutes of getting ready, we finally finished our preparations. I slipped into sneakers, which contrasted with the party dress I borrowed from Valentina. "Oh god, why is this dress so itchy?" I complained, tugging at the fabric in discomfort. Valentina quipped, "Beauty is pain, suck it up." I couldn't help but roll my eyes at her remark.
As we arrived downstairs at the party venue which was at the hotel's club, we made a beeline for the bar, finding a spot to sit and chat for a few minutes. I sipped on my first mocktail while the other girls had shots. Maya, like me, opted for a non-alcoholic beverage. Hannah, however, was determined to convince us otherwise. "Aw, c'mon, Alex, Maya, just one shot!" she urged, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
I shook my head, determined to stick to my choice. Maya, on the other hand, spoke up, "You know once I start, I can't stop. How about we just go dance instead? I'd rather not get drunk and risk accidentally cheating on Jason." Maya's solution seemed reasonable, and Maddison agreed, setting her glass down on the counter.
"Holy $#!t," Maddison suddenly exclaimed, turning her head towards the dancefloor. Curious, Maya and Hannah followed suit. "What's going on?" Maya asked, her eyes scanning the crowd. Maddison's excitement was contagious as she announced, "Those are F1 drivers!"
Hannah chimed in, her gaze fixed on the direction Maddison pointed. Valentina nodded knowingly, confirming their suspicions. Maddison, grinned mischievously, "Let's go! I'm gonna try and score myself a Leclerc." She remarked as she started fixing her hair. We all couldn't help but laugh at her.
The girls eagerly looked at me, expecting me to join in the chase. However, I widened my eyes and shook my head, clutching onto my mocktail. "I'll stay here," I declared, the idea of navigating through the crowd seeming unappealing. They booed playfully, teasing me as they walked away.
As the hours passed, I finished my first mocktail and ordered another one. Lost in my own world, I suddenly noticed someone approaching me. I turned to find Elevator Guy standing there. He asked, "Is this seat empty?" I simply nodded, allowing him to join me. "Yeah, help yourself," I replied, a hint of amusement in my voice.
He settled onto the barstool, and a comfortable silence between us as we enjoyed the music filling the air. After a while, the bartender handed me my drink, which seemed to have taken an unusually long time. Thirsty, I didn't waste a moment and started sipping. "Not an alcohol fan?" he remarked, observing my choice of drink. I shook my head, admitting my preference.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I couldn't help but ask, "Where have you been? I haven't seen you since Friday." Confusion flickered in his eyes as he processed my words. He retorted playfully, "Miss me already, Elevator Girl?" I rolled my eyes, checking the time on my phone.
Suddenly, an uncomfortable feeling washed over me, and he noticed my distress. "Are you okay?" he asked, genuinely concerned. I nodded weakly, attempting to dismiss the wave of nausea. Taking a few more sips of my drink, I hoped to drown out the strange sensation in my stomach.
The rest of the night became a blur as exhaustion took hold. I vaguely recall excusing myself to the bathroom, struggling to maintain my balance as I moved clumsily, grasping onto random objects for support. The images were hazy and dimly lit. Next, I found myself in the bathroom, leaning over the toilet as I vomited my guts out. Elevator Guy was there, holding my hair back, offering comfort in that chaotic moment. Then, everything faded into black.
Word Count: 2566