George changed.
Carla doesn't know when it happened, how or even where, but he has. He's not the same man she fell in love with five years ago.
Lando's the one who noticed first, the thought whispered to her when George had plucked the wine out of...
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George is fidgety.
It's off putting and slowly irritating me every single time his hand stutters in place and he clears his throat. He's been constantly shifting in his spot all through our dinner and the hours before.
We spent the morning walking his mums dog around the grounds of a local country house, walking boots strapped on our feet as I danced around puddles from the damp weather. Each time I skirted around the mud George laughed at me, trying to grasp my hand and keep him by his side just so I'd squeak at him. When we returned we ate lunch and spent the early hours of the afternoon lazing around until George nuzzled his head into mine and began lacing playful kisses to my skin. I was informed we were having a 'date night at home', instructed to dress up for a dinner to celebrate our anniversary. The fifth anniversary of him asking me to be his girlfriend isn't for another week, but the race in Singapore means we won't be at home - or even together. "I want to celebrate at home, don't you?" George had asked in a soft way which made my heart flutter before I agreed.
Somewhere mixed in with the excited fluttering was guilt. Hot, thick guilt which only grew when his lips grazed against mine and a brief flickered reminder of Lando flashed into my mind. Then the confused and outraged look from Amber that was sent my direction not long after.
The whole situation is getting out of hand. I don't know what possessed me to kiss him in that stupid lift, or maybe he kissed me - I can't remember it now. I was past it. I was over it, over Lando. But Lando had just looked so helpless and I didn't miss the way he winced at the small movements as I made my way towards him in the hotel lobby. The fact we both arrived there at the same time seemed like a sick joke from the universe, or maybe it was a gift - I'm not sure. I'd spent most of the afternoon chewing myself up over Lando's safety, too afraid to go and check up on him incase anything was too obvious or suspicious. I needed to know he was ok.
Then Lando looked at me with so much care and concern, he saw through the brave exterior I had shouldered on since leaving George's driver room and it almost broke me. The relief that I felt when his lips touched mine... it wasn't good. Or rather, it was good and that's entirely the problem. It's why I had been quietly chewing over George and I for the last two weeks, tearfully admitting over a phone call with Megan that 'I just don't know anymore'. Because I don't, I don't know anything. I know I love George, I do. But if I love him so much why do I keep falling into Lando? Why is it so easy with him?
I thought that things with George were better, for the most part they had been - have been. But after the messy end to his race in Zandvoort for the first time in a long time he shut me out, demanding that I leave his room when I questioned why he did that to Lando. George didn't have an answer, that much was proven when he told me I didn't know what I was talking about and yelled at me to leave. It was all because he didn't have the words to explain. I abandoned him happily despite the tears in my eyes.
