I KNOW PLACES | George Russell

20. little black dress

Imola
Thursday

I wake up to two arms wrapped around my middle and a figure pressed into my back. We didn't shag or anything, but there was a silent agreement between the two of us that neither of us wanted to leave the other. So I stayed in his room.

But I don't remember falling asleep in this way.

I reach for my phone on the nightstand beside me and read the time. 10am. If I don't get up now I'm going to be late.

I try not to wake the sleeping boy beside me, carefully unwrapping his arms from around me and slipping out of the sheets.

"Where are you going?" His rough voice is muffled, and turning around I can see why. He's facedown in the sheets, right where I left him. I thought he slept through my moves but I guess not.

"I have to start getting ready, we both have media." The explanation earns a long sigh out of George, but no further comments from the boy. "I'll see you later." I gently say to the Brit, who mumbles incoherent objections in response, as I slip out the door to make my way to my own room.

I strip my body of all clothing and get into the shower. The droplets of the clear liquid on my skin flash me back to yesterdays events.

I'm my mind I see his eyes, his lips, the few tiny freckles upon his features that would go unnoticed if you weren't paying attention.

I run the water over my face in order to rinse the memories from the forefront of my mind. I'm not going to get through the day with those images running through my head.

Water slowly trickles down my arm and it reminds me of the way George ran his hand up my arm yesterday.

I run my own hand over my face. I feel like my brain is trying to torture me with these constant reminders.

I shut the water off and change into the clothes I prepared for the day ahead of me.

I don't dread media as much as I used to. The questions I've been getting lately have more to do with my racing rather than asking me about potential bachelors that also happen to be my colleagues.

Which is kind of funny now that I think about it. I swore up and down to Parker that I wouldn't fool around with a colleague and now here I am.

Gemma meets me when I get to the paddock, leading me once again to a conference room where Horner is already waiting.

The scene gives me a sense of deja vu. Reminding me of a similar room I walked into, which led to a fake rivalry.

Christian gestures for me to sit down in the chair across from his. Gemma sits next to me and it's just the three of us in this room for 20.

Gemma is the one to speak first. "You remember last week when you, max, and George were walking down the paddock together?" I nod kind of slowly, unsure of the direction this will take and her tone gives me no hint.

"Well the media loves seeing the three of you together. We want you to stop with the fake rivalry, and we want more of the three of you together." Gemma explains, using her hands as she does so.

Christian chimes in after that. "And nothing more between any of you. I see any foolishness and it's over." I was too focused on the fact George and I no longer had to sneak around to ask what he meant by 'over'.