somewhere || George Russell

four

Laurel crossed the glass doors of the Maracay New York and walked straight into the hallway, without looking at any other place. Finally, home. She sighed, missing already the great weekend in Los Angeles.

She took the elevator and arrived at the last floor, her penthouse. She introduced the keycard in the groove and the doors opened for her. She entered her home and walked directly to her closet room.

She chose her pajamas with sea creatures printed on it and changed her clothes. She made a cup of cinnamon tea and sat on the sofa, turned on the TV and chose a chapter of one of her favorite series ever, Glee, on Netflix. She usually watches telenovelas, but today is Sunday, day of recaps and no new chapters.

Heard a knock on the door and stood up to open, finding one of the hotel's bellboy with her small suitcase. She smiled at him and took the suitcase, taking it to the closet room and coming back to continue watching the TV.

She took the last sip of tea and put the cup on the coffee table. Suddenly her phone started ringing and her face lit up a bit when she saw George's name on the screen.

"Hello," she cried out, with a smile.

"Hi," he replied cheerfully. "How was the flight?"

"Fine," she said, "but I think I'm going to catch a cold. The air is freezing, and I was wearing stupid shorts."

"You should take a hot shower," he suggested. She sighed with a smile.

"It's not proven that a hot shower can avoid catching a cold" Laurel chuckled.

"So, you really are a genius," he replied, remembering the talks he had with her in LA and how smart she has proven to be.

"I know," she nodded. "When are you leaving?"

"You already want me to leave?"

"I am just asking," she said and realized the TV was still playing, so she paused it.

"Tuesday," he finally said, "I have a race next Sunday."

"Where?" she settled on the couch.

"Brazil," he answered, trying to do an accent.

"Why do you leave on Tuesday if your race is until Sunday?"

"Because like you, I have to rehearse before the great day," he explained with easy words and she raised an eyebrow.

"Are you mansplaining me?"

"Not at all," he hurried to say.

"Kidding," she chuckled, "I really know nothing about Formula One," she took a look at her Apple Watch, "Anyway, I have to go."

"I'm sorry," he said, believing that she was angry about the whole mansplain.

"No, no," she shook her head and giggled, "it has nothing to do about that, it's just that tomorrow I have my first rehearsal in the Theatre, and we have to be there early."

"Oh, ok," he sounded relieved, "good luck then."

"Thank you," she smiled.

"Before you leave," he said, "I wanted to know if we are going to meet anytime soon."

"Of course," she replied, feeling her cheeks heating. Does he really want to see her again? "mmm, where's your next race? After Brazil, obviously."

"Are you willing to go to a race?" he was surprised.

"Sure, why not?" she shrugged, confidently. She also wants to see him again.

"The next one is Abu Dhabi, on December 1st and it's the end of the season," he explained, and Laurel bit her lip, knowing that exactly nine days later is the start of the previews of the musical on Broadway. "Laurel?"

"Sorry," she came back to reality, "sure, I'll be there. If..." she conditioned and thought about something, "you come for my opening night."

"When's that?"

"February 6th."

"Count me in," he replied without hesitation, "I'll let you sleep then, good luck tomorrow."

"Thank you, and enjoy your last day on America," she smiled and hang up the phone.

She laid in the sofa and turned to see the TV, but didn't really saw it, just started to think about her going to Abu Dhabi. She took the tv control and put play again, falling asleep to the sound of disco music on the chapter. When she woke up later that same night, Netflix was already asking her if she was still watching.

She chuckled, turned off the TV and walked to her bedroom. Got inside the white blankets and immediately fell asleep again.