[POV: Andreanna Saunterre]
The next week of my life was a never-ending questionnaire. Every morning and every evening, me and Oscar would meet at various locations to interview each other.
The beginning started off slow. After an argument over text that took up the length of an entire morning over where we should meet up, we decided that it would be best to split it fifty-fifty. I was to decide where we'd meet in the mornings, and Oscar would decide in the evenings. As a massive breakfast fan, I was thrilled.
The first place I chose was none other than the hotel's breakfast bar, that had been advertised online to have an "all new, all fresh" menu. A tropical-looking fruit bowl was what caught my eye, and I'd began eating it before Oscar had even arrived. And when he did, he looked... well...
'Not a morning person. Got it.' I noted mentally.
"Well." I said, once he'd ordered and settled. "We'll start with the easy stuff. Name?"
Oscar laughed, taking the first bite of his breakfast. I didn't laugh, obviously, because I wasn't joking. Soon enough, he grounded himself and asked:
"You're kidding?"
"No." I stated blankly. "Full legal name. Go."
He straightened his back. "Oscar..." He paused, shifting in his seat. Is this a hard question? I thought, before finding out why he was so hesitant. "Jack Piastri" He said, emphasising his middle name as if he was embarrassed by it.
"Jack?" I leaned my head forward. "You've got a first name as both your first and middle name?" I tried not to laugh. It wasn't that his name was what was funny, it was more his clear hatred for it. Which, frankly, made me want to mock even more.
Then, he got defensive. "You literally have a boys name, Andi." He mumbled, turning away from me and taking a sip of his drink. I didn't know what he'd ordered - it looked like tea to me - but I didn't ask. I held in my snicker as he mocked me; I probably would've gone off on one about him calling my name a boy's name. But his middle name is Jack. So.
I stabbed my fork into a few blueberries and defended myself. "For starters," I said, "that's not my actual name, and—"
"It's not?"
I looked up from my fruit bowl; he was genuinely confused.
"No!" I said in disbelief, although it was a common occurrence. I mean, I introduce myself as Andi to everyone nowadays, and rarely let it be known that that isn't my name. "It's Andreanna." I said, taking another bite.
"Andreanna?"
"Andreanna Eline Saunterre." I nodded as I spoke, following the rhythm of each of my names, all whilst enjoying my fruit.
He didn't say anything for a bit, and I didn't bother looking. The fruit was really good.
"It's a long one, I know. Thats why everyone just calls me Andi. Even my dad, except for when he wants to have a serious conversation with me." I rambled on, mouth full. "You know," I chuckled as I remembered, "I used to get so touchy about people calling me Andreanna. Until I was about, I'd say like, ten years old, I used to insist that everyone call me Andreanna. No exceptions."
He didn't say anything again, so I faced him. He held a raised eyebrow, a quizzical expression plastered across his face. "Andreanna, Eline, Saunterre?" He repeated.
"Yes...? Why's that so—"
He - without warning - slumped his shoulders and sighed a huge sigh. "Your name's so much better than mine. Mine's so..." he looked defeated, "harsh."
I went to let out a laugh but covered my mouth, resting my elbow on the counter. I watched as he began to repeat his own name.
"Os-kah." He said sharply, pronouncing each and every sound with spite. "J-ack."
I let a chuckle slip. "I mean, it suits you."
He looked extremely offended.
"Oh?! So—"
"No! Not in a bad way," I scrambled to explain myself, still laughing a little too hard. "It's very straightforward, straight-to-the-point, doesn't beat around the bush, you know?"
"And I'm like that?"
"Yes. You're the epitome of that."
Of course, I didn't actually know if that was true. I hadn't known him long enough at all to know if I was right in my judgement or not.
He shrugged, pouting, sulking. I then struggled to eat the rest of my fruit bowl, since every time I went to take a bite I'd hear the echo of his harsh "Os-kah" and it'd make me want to laugh. The more he sulked the more his name sounded funny.
Have I just crushed his spirit before any of this has started? We're on question one, for god's sake! I asked myself, snickering. Oscar probably thought I was mocking him again.
And... that's how practically every meeting went throughout the week. A question would be asked, someone would have an out-there answer and the rest of the conversation would be centred on that very same out-there answer.
I might also stress the fact that Oscar is not the best answerer whatsoever. He either ponders for way too long - on very easy questions too - or just doesn't know the answer to begin with. For example, when I asked him one evening what his favourite colour was, he didn't eat a bite of his pasta for an entire six minutes as he needed that much time to think. And when I thought he'd finally decided on one, he said:
"I dunno. Maybe red. Sometimes black. I don't really have one."
Nevertheless, I did manage to learn some things about him in the first week.
I know that he doesn't live in Australia permanently like I thought he did, and instead lives in London. He said he moved there when he was like, 14 I think it was? His parents live in Melbourne, though. I knew that.
I know that he reps the number 81 because that's the number he's had for "ages". He didn't go into too much detail, but from what I gathered, it doesn't necessarily have a 'meaning' as opposed to being the number he's stuck with throughout his career.
Oh, and he likes sleeping. A lot.
I figured that out when he was late for our morning meet ups not once, not twice, but four times.
'Oh, shoot! I still haven't asked him about the Xanax...' is what I thought as I struggled to get my shoes on, leaning a hand against the front door of my hotel room for balance. 'I'll ask that later.' I decided, rushing from the room. I was late to meet him in the hotel's bistro. I'd feel bad, but since he'd been late so many times before, I didn't feel inclined to run. A quicker-than-normal walking pace would do.
That's what I thought, anyway. When I arrived at the bistro, I wished I'd chosen to run. All I could see was a table for two in the centre of the room that had been turned into a table for three by a certain... father figure of mine.
"Uhm... Hi Dad?" I attempted what was supposed to be a smile, but probably ended up looking a little off since Oscar immediately could tell that I was annoyed.
I sat down anyway and as my Dad greeted me and told me about 'what a lovely thing it is' to see me with 'a real live boyfriend', the very much fake (but yes, live) boyfriend nudged me, leaned in closer and whispered: "I swear I had nothing to do with this."
I decided to believe him. Mainly because the look on his face very much looked like he didn't expect to be talking to my dad tonight whatsoever. And, I'm sure he didn't expect my dad to be so vocal about his feelings, either.
"How lovely. Really! It's so lovely."
"Sorry, what is it? Lovely? I didn't quite catch that from the twelve times you've said it." I leaned back in my chair, beginning to read over the menu in front of me. My dad gave me an unamused look, as I'd expected.
"Sorry, Oscar," he said. "As I'm sure you've learned by now, Andi gets mean when she's hungry." He snarked.
"Oh, I know. She hit me once because I said I preferred cats over dogs. It had been three hours since she last ate."
I gave Oscar a look, much like the one my dad gave me, and he cleared his throat. The two then went on to chat - my dad using the word lovely another four times - while I chose what I wanted for food. It was a tough decision, since I'd already had seafood for lunch and the 'deluxe fish & chips' was staring straight at me.
The one thing to make me lift my head up from the menu and start paying attention however was something Oscar said.
In response to my dad's question of: "Do either of you have any big plans coming up? Big days? Special events?" Oscar said, "Well... I dunno about 'big' days but it's my birthday soon."
I oh-so-slightly lifted my gaze and listened on.
"Oh! How lovely! When is it?"
I didn't dare make any movements in case my dad decided to quiz me on when his birthday was (which I was only just realising that I didn't know).
"April 6th."
Now knowing it, I subtly nodded my head and went back to choosing.
But then it clicked.
"Wait—" I said, a make-believe lightbulb brightening above my head. "Oscar, that's—"
Both Oscar and my dad looked at my clear expression of surprise.
"That's on Friday...?"
Which, for context, was two days from now.
And, as it so happens, was the day I planned to leave Oscar by himself so that I could go to my bike meet.
Nice one, universe.
I'll rest when I'm dead, it seems.
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FUCK i swore id update quicker
im gonna write like 10 chapters rn and make them last 😭