The next morning, I wake up to the comforting smell of coffee and food filling the air. I'm still wearing Lewis' shirt — the grey, oversized one he gave me last night. It hangs loosely on me, falling just long enough to cover my thighs, so I slip downstairs without bothering to put anything else on.
When I step into the kitchen, Lewis is standing at the stove, flipping something in the pan. His hair is slightly messy, and the sleeves of his hoodie are pushed up to his elbows.
Lewis: Oh, you're awake.
Alison: Well, it smells too good not to be... my stomach basically forced me to check it out.
I grin, walking over to him, leaning in to peek over his shoulder. The smell of coffee and crispy bacon lingers in the air, but when I glance down into the pan, I can't quite figure out what he's cooking.
Lewis: Thought I'd make you English breakfast... since you're into a London boy and all.
He tilts his head slightly, his voice soft and teasing.
Alison: Let's just hope it tastes better than it looks...
I try to keep a straight face, biting back a smile. His eyes flick to mine, and for a moment, we just stand there — close enough to feel the warmth between us. The room feels quieter somehow, like we're both waiting for something to happen.
Then Lewis suddenly takes a deep breath, breaking the tension as he looks back at the pan.
It smells burned. I can't help but laugh.
Lewis: I'm sure that's okay.
Alison: Don't worry... I heard it's the thought that counts.
We sit down at the small wooden table, plates filled with toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, and baked beans. Lewis pours me a cup of coffee before taking his own seat across from me.
Lewis: Hope you like it.
I take a bite, trying to keep a straight face.
Alison: Hm... it's okay.
The food is actually delicious - way better than I expected, but teasing him is just too easy.
Lewis: Okay?
His eyebrows lift, waiting for more.
Alison: Better than the hotel breakfast... but that's not really that difficult, tho.
He huffs, grabbing a napkin and playfully throwing it at me. I can't help but laugh, almost choking on my coffee.
Alison: I'm kidding! It's perfect. Thank you.
His lips curve into that soft smile that always makes my heart flutter.
Lewis: Good.
A beat of silence passes as we eat, the tension from before still lingering between us.
Lewis: So... how are you feeling today?
His voice is quieter now, more careful. I know what he's really asking. I glance up at him, the fork in my hand frozen mid-air. But before I can answer, he adds:
Lewis: Did you see his Insta story?
My stomach flips and it's not because of the food.
Alison: Yeah, boys over girls, I guess.
I try to sound casual, but the bitterness in my voice betrays me.
Lewis: Maybe you should go and talk to him.

YOU ARE READING
Racing Hearts
Romance"Maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much..." Alison Miller is pop royalty: on top of the world and completely wrecked after a breakup. The press wants blood, her team wants damage control. Their solution? Lewis. F1's golden boy...