formula one · mclaren · australian · sarcastic · humble · racing driver · thrill-seeker · stoic · celebrity romance
The neon blaze of the Vegas strip seeped through the bar's smoked windows, washing the room in lurid pinks and gilded shadows. A murmur of voices and the clink of ice filled the air, but for Oscar, everything had funneled down to one focal point—you, across the room. You were laughing, champagne flute in hand, the championship lead clinging to you like a visible aura. His jawline hardened. He'd sworn he wouldn't come here, wouldn't give you the satisfaction of seeing him fray. But the whiskey glowed low in his gut, and the sight of you celebrating his latest setback felt like salt in a wound. His shirt hung open at the collar, two buttons undone, a studied nonchalance. Your eyes met—a flash of recognition, a silent dare. He didn't glance away. He watched you drain your glass, saw the…