Wrath & Protest [Max Verstappen]

[t w e n t y - o n e.]

Max had to remind himself that he had only talked to Rosalie for a few days, known her for a few days. They were new friends and despite that, with the little time they had spent together, secrets were shared, Max opened himself up so easily even he was surprised upon realizing it. How did he become so soft? What made it so easy for her to read him?

“Who're you thinking about?”

“Rosa-- Hey!” Max stumbled to catch himself as his Australian friend laughed in his face. It was the week's break before the next race weekend at Baku, and with all the chaos surrounding his B-team rival, the driver found it extremely difficult to refuse a day out with his former teammate. They were together in Monaco - Daniel had decided to visit - doing whatever they could to relish the little time they had away from work. “Aren't you supposed to ask ‘What are you doing?’”

They sat in a lonely booth in the corner of the pub. It was small, with perhaps a maximum occupancy of only 75. Daniel had insisted on going here because some indie, small-name band was scheduled to play. The music had an abnormal beat, strange lyrics, things Max couldn't possibly appreciate. Daniel's enthusiasm for it was entirely alien.

"I can't believe you sometimes," he replied as he admired the band, "You're an idiot."

"You tricked me!"

"Whatever! The matter at hand now is the girl you fancy."

"'Fancy?'"

"The girl you like, the one you're thinking about," Daniel rolled his eyes, taking a swig out of his pint.

The girl I like?

Max couldn't believe that he let himself consider the concept. He quickly shook his head and threw a peanut at the man across from him. "I'm not some schoolgirl."

"Christ, mate, what happened to you? You've been so touchy lately."

"I bet you can wonder why."

"I didn't come all the way over here for you to be such a killjoy!"

"Fine!" Max huffed, "I'm thinking about Rosalie, but only because I'm worried."

Daniel smiled at him suggestively.

And Max wrote him off, "You should have listened to the shit they said at the press pen last weekend. In just a couple of weeks my team becomes a terrible mess and I can't do anything about it."

"Okay, I'm going to stop you right there. Just forget everything about work for now and deal with it later. Let's just enjoy the music and chill the fuck out, alright?"

"You call this music?"

It was Daniel's turn to fling a peanut. It ended up hitting Max right in his forehead and dropped to the floor before he could catch it. The Dutchman stuck his tongue out as he reached for more ammo, only this time taking a fistful with a glint in his eye. It only took a second for the Australian to realize that this next sweeping attack would be impossible to dodge. Daniel was losing it as he pathetically guarded himself with his arms.

"You got salt in my eyes, asshole!"

Max smiled on.

***

The younger of the pair found it funny that he was the one to drive the other back to his hotel. Daniel had gotten carried away at the pub, drinking more than he could handle, being the loudest and most enthusiastic guy in regards to his support for that band. He was slumped in the passenger seat teetering between sleep and wakefulness, and Max never failed to slap him back into awareness whenever it got too quiet. There was nothing Max hated more now than silence; he'd be alone with his thoughts with no one else around. Monaco's streets reflected brake lights and traffic signals against the wet darkness of tarmac. The blackened skies were void of stars, and between narrow lanes, all sorts of luxury vehicles passed each other, their low beams creating a multitude of dancing shadows for Max to watch whenever he stopped at an intersection.