waking up in an unfamiliar bed, with an unfamiliar chest facing you, in unfamiliar clothes, and little recollection of the night before is quite a terrifying experience. that was exactly the situation that ria found herself in on monday morning. what made it worse was that as she looked up at the man's face, she saw none other than oscar fucking piastri. she let out a shriek, making him wake up.
"what the fuck!" she said as she fumbled with the duvet as she ruched out of bed. "did we . . ."
"no, god no. i'm not really sure what happened to be honest, but we definitely didn't, you know . . ." he responded, panicking.
"so then what the fuck am i doing in your bed in your clothes?" she asked him.
"i kinda remember last night. we didn't have a ride from the club so we walked. then you threw up in my toilet. then i gave you the bed and slept on the floor, but then you forced me to come onto the bed because you felt bad." he tried to explain.
"oh yeah, sure, piastri. like i'm gonna believe that. you, who was all up on me yesterday after the race, didn't pass up an opportunity to get in a quick shag while i was drunk? you're fucking crazy. i'm leaving." she said, picking up her dress from the day before and her bag from the bathroom.
"i'm telling the truth. you told me to give you a lucozade after you threw up because that's what your dad did. you said pink lemonade was your favourite. how would i know that if what i said wasn't true?" he justified, getting out of the bed. "and look, my pillow's on the floor still. i was trying to sleep here to give you privacy, but you told me you would feel bad if you made me sleep on the floor."
"oh, shit. i'm sorry. but you realise where i was coming from? as a girl, i've always had to be hyper aware of what's going on around me, so to fuck up like that could cost me my life." she explained.
"that's why i walked you back last night. i'd much rather walk for an hour than have you get hurt." he said empathetically.
"thank you, oscar. that's actually really nice of you. i'm sorry i vomited in your bathroom." she apologised.
"it's all good. I charged your phone, too, don't forget it." he reminded her.
"ah, right. thank you." she awkwardly took the phone before bolting out the room, calling arthur before she even got to her room.
"what the fuck do you want?" he asked, sounding like he just woke up.
"i need to speak to you. now. are you coming to my room, or am i going to yours?" she asked bluntly.
"come to mine. i think the girl i slept with last night left already." he said.
"i'm coming." she said, darting down the corridor.
***
"whose pants are you wearing?" was the first thing arthur said as he opened the door.
"oh my god, we're matching fits!" she shouted, ignoring his question.
"whose fucking clothes are you wearing? don't ignore me." he asked sternly.
"oscar's. but please don't freak out-"
"you slept with oscar piastri? oh my god!" he interrupted.
"no, i mean i did, but not like that, like we slept next to each other, we didn't have sex, no, that would be so weird. no, i just threw up in his bathroom, then we went to sleep." she briefly explained.
