Fake It - OP

Chapter 10

Ange had fallen asleep within five minutes after she had gotten into bed. Between the heat, excitement, apprehension, and whatever other emotions had run through our bodies today I don't blame her. My body was tired, and despite having a million things to think about, everything had gone slack. It was one of those instances where you're so tired, but can't sleep because your mind is wide awake. 

I had changed into a comfortable pair of shorts, but that was as far as I had gotten. Suddenly, going out again to meet up with Oscar seemed like a tremendous task. How did people go out and party after races? Especially if you were in the car. I grabbed my phone, which was sitting on the little table beside the bed plugged into the wall to check for any messages from Oscar. I kept reaching for the phone every two minutes, half expecting him to cancel to go out with Lando and the rest of the grid to celebrate the first race, he certainly deserved to. But it wasn't a cancellation message I received.

Finishing up here, you at your hostel?

The text message was sent one minute ago. So I typed a quick reply not wanting to miss him.

Yes, what's the plan?

Any chance there is a restaurant near you?

No, the breakfast bar here isn't locked at night, but that's all I got.

Sounds perfect.

I'm confused, was he really just coming here to raid a barely stocked mini fridge and toast? There wasn't a restaurant nearby, Ange and I booked this hostel without looking at the location, so we couldn't even walk to one. Great, just great, this is already doing so well. I'm making the man who just raced a freaking Formula One race eat dry freaking toast. I slapped my hand to my forehead before getting up to slip some sandals on and leave the room quietly, lest to wake Ange.

I turned around and slowly closed the door, thankfully the hostel was reasonably empty with most people out partying and attempting to get into the driver parties somewhere else in the city. I looked up the stairs to my left which went up to the third floor and for the first time noticed a small sign that read 'rooftop terrace'. I looked down at my phone, Oscar was going to be at least twenty minutes if he was just leaving the track. 

Liking the idea of a distraction from disappointing food I climbed the steps up into a corridor and pushed open the door at the end of the hall. I pushed my foot into the door, holding it open in case it was locked and I looked around. On top of the hostel was a small empty sitting area adorned with six lounge chairs, a sun shade, and some sad-looking plants. They hadn't been watered in a few days although they were still green. 

With the desert heat, nobody would be able to stand the heat up here in the day, but the cool evening desert air was chilly and welcoming on my skin. I turned around and headed back to Ange and I's room, entering it as quietly as I had left it. I grabbed Oscar's shirt from its folded-up position on the small desk in the room, assuming he would want it back tonight. I quickly ran a brush through my hair and removed most of the makeup on my face. I was too tired to try and look put together and an acne breakout is something nobody wants. 

I glanced down at my phone. It had been eighteen minutes since Oscar's text. As quietly as I could, I slipped on Oscar's shirt and my phone along with my room key and slipped out of Ange and I's room again. This time, instead of climbing the stairs to the terrace I descended them down to the breakfast area. As I assumed, it was unlocked and I did a quick reconnaissance of what was there. A few scones, and some yogurt in the fridge. Nothing of sustenance. Shit. There were a few deserts left, maybe Oscar was feeling like a Nanaimo bar?

I kept trying to rationalize the sparse food here when I looked down to see my phone screen light up. I had turned my notifications back on after the race, not wanting to miss any of his messages. And it was Oscar's Instagram notification that lit up the screen.