─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Climbing out of the rental car, Amalia handed the keys to the valet and began making her way towards the hotel. As she strolled through the bustling crowds, fans eagerly approached her for photos and autographs. Amalia graciously indulged them, appreciating the support that had carried her through the racing season.
Finally passing through the front doors of the hotel, Amalia left the enthusiastic crowd behind and navigated her way toward the elevators. Once inside, she clicked her floor number and leaned against the wall, taking a moment to check her phone. She had turned it off before the race, and now messages flooded in, notably from her best friend Phoebe Lambert.
Unlocking her phone, Amalia began scrolling through the messages, a smile forming on her face as she read Phoebe's enthusiastic and congratulatory words. The genuine warmth from her friend was a welcome contrast to the competitive intensity of the race day.
Upon reading Phoebe's enthusiastic messages, Amalia couldn't help but smile, her heart swelling with gratitude for her best friend's unwavering support. However, the last message left her confused and intrigued.
As the elevator came to a stop on her floor, Amalia dragged herself wearily to her room, eager for a moment of rest before the evening's parties. Scanning her key, she pushed open the door and was met with an unexpected burst of celebration – balloons, streamers, and confetti adorned her room.
Closing the door behind her, and before she could fully comprehend the scene, confetti rained down on her. A shout of congratulations filled the air, and in the midst was Phoebe."Congratulations!" Phoebe yelled, climbing over the bed and throwing herself at Amalia with excitement. Balloons bobbed around them as they shared a joyous embrace, the room alive with the anticipation of a night filled with celebration and laughter.
Amalia looked at Phoebe with wide eyes and a mix of surprise and joy. "Pheebs, what are you doing here?" she asked, still trying to process the unexpected but heartwarming surprise.Phoebe grinned as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "I came to see your last race in Formula 3, silly. You didn't think I would actually miss it, did you?"
A soft, disbelieving smile played on Amalia's lips. "You came?" she inquired, her voice carrying a hint of disbelief.
Phoebe's response was immediate and emphatic. "Of course I did! You're my best friend; I wouldn't miss anything important in your life. Now stop with the heartfelt stuff; you're going to make me cry, and I just finished my makeup."
Amalia chuckled, touched by Phoebe's sincerity. "Okay, okay, I'm just so glad you came," Amalia said returning the hug. "Now let me have a nap first before we have to get ready for tonight. I'm so exhausted."
Phoebe nodded understandingly, "Sure thing. Take your time. I'll help you get ready later."
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Amalia woke up from her nap to the sound of her best friend rummaging through her suitcase. With a yawn, she observed Phoebe holding up various pieces of clothing, only to change her mind and toss them aside. The room was already scattered with Amalia's wardrobe, a testament to Phoebe's determined mission.
Noticing Amalia stirring, Phoebe looked up with a sheepish smile. "Hey, you're up."
Amalia, still groggy, replied, "Yes, I see you're redecorating," as she picked up a few articles of clothing from the floor.
Phoebe chuckled nervously, "You were meant to be asleep still, and I was going to choose an outfit for you for tonight."
"Well, I'm up now. Let me help you," Amalia insisted.
They continued sifting through the clothes, each holding up possible choices for the other. Nothing seemed perfect until Amalia pulled out a gold dress. Phoebe's eyes lit up with enthusiasm, and she nodded, declaring, "Yes, that's perfect. Go shower and try it on," as she gently pushed Amalia toward the bathroom.
Amalia slipped out of her clothes and turned on the shower she waited for it to get warm enough to step into. The steam rolled through the bathroom as the water got hotter. Amalia stepped into the shower letting the water roll over her head and down her body relaxing the store muscle after the race she had today. Amalia went through the motions as she let her thoughts cloud her.
One main thought was why Max Verstappen was at her race and why he had been so nice to her. Years ago when they joined karting together at such a young age they had been inseparable but as they grew older and races became more competitive their friendship grew apart. From allies to rivals, they had become. To be honest she was jealous, he got everything handed to him so easily even his seat in Formula 1. The youngest ever driver they never would have taken him if he was a woman that was for sure.
I'm so sick of running as fast as I can
Wondering if I'd get there quicker
If I was a man
And I'm so sick of them coming at me again
'Cause if I was a man
Then I'd be the man
Climbing out of the shower Amalia wrapped a towel in her hair and around her body. She dried it off as she let the thoughts of a certain Dutch driver drift away.
She slipped into the dress, and as she looked in the mirror, it draped elegantly over her abdomen and thighs. The halter neckline accentuated her shoulders, and the open midriff showcased her toned stomach.
As she analyzed herself in the mirror, intrusive thoughts echoed in her mind, remnants of her mother's harsh criticisms about her appearance. 'Seriously Amalia you look huge honey, you're really going to wear that? You're embarrassing my image with your huge thighs and fat stomach. what are people going to think when they see the unfit slob my daughter is?"
In an attempt to regain control, Amalia closed her eyes and remembered the encouraging words of her friends who had urged her to wear the dress. She recalled moments when she felt beautiful and confident, independent of her mother's judgment.
"Ignore her, Amalia. You look stunning. Don't let her words define you," Phoebe's voice echoed in her mind.
Amalia opened her eyes, determined to rise above the negativity. With newfound strength, she straightened her posture and met her own gaze in the mirror. Silencing the cruel inner monologue, she whispered, "I am more than her words. I am beautiful, and I feel confident."
Shaking off those negative thoughts, Amalia stepped out of the bathroom, ready to show Phoebe the dress. Phoebe's eyes widened in approval, and she exclaimed, "That's the dress for sure. You're going to be turning heads tonight." The genuine excitement in Phoebe's voice helped dispel any lingering doubts, and Amalia felt a surge of confidence in her chosen outfit.Phoebe's enthusiasm filled the room as she prepared to complete Amalia's look for the evening. "Now that we have the outfit, we need to do your hair and makeup!" she declared, guiding Amalia over to a vanity and persuading her to take a seat in the chair.
As Amalia settled into the chair, she took charge of her makeup. With precision, she decided on a sultry smoky eye and bold red lipstick, accentuating her features flawlessly.
Phoebe, in the meantime, contemplated the hairstyle. "I was thinking curls would be perfect for the outfit," she suggested. Amalia nodded in agreement, her trust in Phoebe's fashion sense unwavering. "You always know what to do best. Just go for it," Amalia encouraged.
Phoebe worked her magic with the curling iron, creating cascading curls that framed Amalia's face elegantly. As she finished, she stepped back, admiring her handiwork. "And done! I do say, my best work so far. God, you're so hot; I would totally hook up with you tonight," Phoebe teased with a mischievous grin.
Amalia rolled her eyes, a playful smirk on her lips. "Pheebs, stop it. Look at yourself in that black dress! The hair!" She gestured toward Phoebe's own reflection in the mirror, acknowledging her friend's stunning appearance. The two friends shared a laugh, reveling in the excitement of the night ahead.
Checking the time, the two girls realized they were running late. Amalia's eyes widened with a touch of panic. "Pheebs! We are running so late. We have to hurry! I can't believe I'm going to be late to my own party."
Phoebe, the voice of reason, chimed in with a calm demeanor. "Calm down, Ames. We'll just arrive fashionably late. Plus, you're one of the guests of honor. I'm sure Leclerc can keep them busy till we get there."
"You're right. Okay, I need to get my shoes and purse, and then I'll be ready," Amalia replied, rushing to get her final accessories in place.
Sitting down, she slid into a pair of stunning black 5-inch heels from Louboutin. Despite standing at 5 ft 8 inches, she appreciated the extra height high heels provided. Maybe it was a bit of a superiority complex, relishing the chance to be taller than the men who had doubted and judged her.
Amalia grabbed her purse, throwing in essentials like keys, makeup, and other items she might need. She unplugged her phone from its charging spot and tucked it into her small clutch purse.
"Pheebs, I'm ready!" she called out.
Phoebe returned, heels clicking, and purse in hand. In a flourish, she produced two shots of tequila. "Some liquid luck before we go," she said, handing one to Amalia and clinking glasses with her before both threw back the fiery drink. The French made a face at the taste, not quite accustomed to the strength of the alcohol.
"Just what I was thinking," Amalia remarked, tossing back the shot without the same reaction as her friend. She grinned. "One more for the road?"
"Why not?" Phoebe agreed, and with that, they shared another quick toast before heading out the door, ready to make a stylish entrance to the party.
══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════
K Writes:
Thanks for reading, hope you have a lovely day! Don't forget to like and comment. How do you feel about adding lyrics in chapters? I will try to include images of outfits and descriptions at the beginning of the chapters or in the chapters. How do you feel about the story so far? Do you have predictions or ideas on where the story will go or should go?
Thank you ♡
Word Count: 1748