#chwritings

Oscar glances at the other guy, noticing a British accent. He looks like he’s going to a party. His white flowy shirt unbuttoned exposing his tanned chest. Oscar’s eyes catch two gold necklaces gleaming in the sunlight. 

The bike is fine. Oscar however, he’s not sure.

When he looks up again, there is a small grin pulling at the guy's lips. Maybe a little too smug. Knowing he’s been ogling him for a little too long, Oscar feels his cheeks heat up. He swallows and clears his throat. 

“Uh, yeah It’s fine—” 

Sudden high pitched squeals cut him off. As he looks around to see where the commotion is happening he’s almost knocked off his feet. Three teenage girls mow him down to get to the guy in the flowy shirt. 

They are circling him like flock to a shepherd. Oscar sees him smile brightly, but it’s an uneasy one. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Lando! Omg! I can’t believe you’re here! Can we take a picture with you? Please?”

The limousine and the driver should have been a dead give away that this “Lando” guy was somebody famous. Normal people didn’t have security. Oscar just doesn’t keep up with the rich and famous. He deals with them way too much at his job, one he may lose today if he doesn’t leave now. 

The broad man quickly makes short work of the girls after they get their pictures. 

“Lando, we have to go. You’re already late,” He says in a low voice. 

“It’s fine, everyone is late to these things,” Lando says as he looks at Oscar again, the color of Lando’s eyes are hard to tell but they hypnotize him on the spot. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re welcome to drive with me. Jack can get your bike to where it needs to go. Right, Jack?”

He’s soft spoken, almost a little shy. But at the same time there is a hint of mischief in his eyes. Oscar finds it hard to look away from his eyes that seem to have a different color depending on how the light hits them. 

Jack doesn’t seem so sure of that it seems, judging by his grimace, but he nods anyway.  

“That’s okay, I’m fine. I just really need to go and see if I still have a job,” Oscar says and flips over his helmet to put it back on before getting back on his motorcycle. 

Lando nods, glancing back at him with an unreadable expression. “Good luck.”

Oscar turns on the ignition again and gives a little awkward little wave as he accelerates, slowly driving away. In his mirror he can see Lando being led back to the limo. More girls running after the three of them. 

—

“A limousine driver? Who was he driving?” Logan asks as they get changed into their uniforms. Black pants, white button up and black tie.  

“Lando something?” Oscar shrugs and he struggles to tie his tie. “I don’t know, that’s all I heard.”

“Lando? You mean Lando Norris? The actor?” 

“Maybe? It’s not exactly a common name is it?”

Logan rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone from his pocket. He quickly types on his phone and holds it up in front of Oscar. “Is this him?”

it’s a picture of Lando standing on some red carpet, smiling brightly—looking absolutely stunning a perfectly cut suit. He’s holding some kind of award and Oscar can’t look away. The happiness in Lando’s eyes makes it hard not to smile. 

“Yeah, that’s him,” Oscar nods, clearing his throat when Logan gives him a knowing smile. 

“You thinks he’s cute.” 

“So? It’s not like I’ll ever see him again.”

–

Working as a waiter at celebrity parties wasn’t what he set out to do when Oscar decided to move up everything to LA. The goal was to get a job as a sound engineer at a record studio. He had the papers, the internship experience. Cat in the bag. Or so he thought. 

The reality of it all is different. 

He’s barely scraping by. If it wasn’t for Logan he wouldn’t even have this job. He hates it, but he also needs to pay rent. 

With a sigh he sits down on the sidewalk. Watching sports cars, limousines and trucks pass by before checking his phone for messages. The night air feels welcome on his skin, his cheeks flushed from the heat inside. A fifteen minute break is nothing compared to how much walking he already did tonight.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Oscar looks up from his phone, seeing Lando standing in front of him. Smile tugging at his lips. Oscar’s heart flutters, forgetting every word known to man. Lando still looks just as pretty as the first time Oscar saw him.  

“I would say the same, but I’d be lying. Because this is exactly the place where I’d expect to see you again.”

Lando lets out a giggle and takes a seat next to him on the sidewalk. “Is that why you’re here then? To see me again?”

“I work here.”

“Ouch,” Lando says as he wraps his arms around his knees, resting his cheek on them as he smiles at Oscar. “You should have played along with me there. Lie, to ease me into the rejection. Better for my ego.”

“Is it better for your ego when people lie to you?”

“It’s all they do anyway. You might as well join the club.”

Oscar snorts. “What if I don’t want to, you know—join the club?”

“I’d say that makes me like you even more,” Lando says, lifting his head. His eyes sparkle, the same mischief in them as that afternoon. It’s weird but Oscar feels entranced. “You had no idea who I was, did you? This afternoon?”

Oscar’s brain is still stuck on the ‘liking him even more’ part—to register the second part of the question. 

"Does that hurt your little ego even more?”

Lando laughs, a high pitched giggle and his eyes crinkle adorably. The contrast between the soft and cute and the sexy and alluring is throwing Oscar for a spin. At the same time he wants to know more about him. 

“It’s refreshing actually,” Lando grins, biting his bottom lip before holding out his hand. “I’m Lando. Lando Norris. I would say you may have seen my movies, but I don’t want to embarrass myself even further.”

“Oscar,” he says and shakes Lando’s hand. It flutters in his belly as Lando’s eyes flick over his face. His own cheeks feel hot again and he clears his throat. “I’m sorry, my break is over. I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ll probably be fired. My boss, he’s a bit of an ass.”

Lando pouts and it shouldn't affect Oscar the way it does. Not when he doesn’t even know him.

“Well. It could be worse than this, I guess.”

“Could it?”

“Yeah,” Lando grins, letting go of Oscar’s hand as he stands up as well. “If your boss didn’t hire you, we would have never met.”

Oscar rolls his eyes, but he can’t keep himself from smiling. “And I wouldn’t have had this shitty job.”

“You have to take the good with the bad Oscar.”

“You shouldn’t read so many self help books.”

Lando chuckles, his eyes sparkling playfully like he’s having the best time of his life. “I guess I’ll come find you inside. Might have a good time yet.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t?”

“Why not?” Lando asks, tilting his head. A teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Osc, don’t tell me you’re distracted by little old me?” 

The shirt he’s wearing seems to be unbuttoned even further and the necklaces glitter even in the streetlights. Lando glows. It’s effortless beauty. He’s smaller than Oscar, but not too small—perfectly sized. Without knowing him he understands why Lando is so popular. There is something about him that draws Oscar in.

Oscar smiles sheepishly. “Something tells me you’re trouble.”

“Me?” Lando asks, feigning insult. He puts a hand on his chest for dramatic effect. “I can’t believe you would say that to me. I’m hurt.” 

“Forgive me, you’re an angel.”

The thing is, Oscar isn’t even lying.  

Lando smiles brightly and bites at his lip again, his eyes darting over Oscar’s face before he walks back to the entrance. He turns around one more time. “See you Oscar. It’s been a pleasure.”

Again, just like that morning Oscar waves awkwardly, wondering what just happened. 

—

At the end of his shift, at five thirty in the morning when he gets back to his bike—absolutely knackered, can’t feel his feet, half dead—there is, what looks like a napkin wrapped around his handlebar.

With a frown he takes it off and unfolds it. He spots a number and a message scribbled on there. He can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips, heart fluttering in his chest as he reads it.   

Those fifteen minutes were way too short. 

Call me sometime?

“Oh? I’m sorry, I had no idea,” Charles says feigning innocence. 

Of course he knows, he checked the time table before he went to the pool. Maybe some people would call him a stalker, going out of his way to see the cute lifeguard again. Charles calls it being persistent. 

The raised eyebrow suggests the guy knows Charles is full of shit, but he doesn’t call him out on it. “It’s no problem. But if you could get out of this pool, that would be great.”

Charles nods and hoist himself out of the pool and onto the edge of the pool right next to him. Then he slowly straightens up. 

This time he can see the guys’ eyes wander over Charles’ chest, water dripping down his body. From the bop of his Adam’s apple Charles knows he has him where he wants him. 

“Again, I’m sorry…” Charles trails off, his eyes finding the name tag on the guy’s chest. “Max—“ he finishes and smiles sweetly when they make eye contact again. “I’ll make sure it won’t happen again. I’m Charles.”

He extends his hand and Max takes it. Shaking it firmly. Good he likes a man with a strong handshake. 

“Uh—yeah, great,” Max clears his throat again, his cheeks a darker shade of pink. “Thanks.”

Charles lets go and grabs his towel. He puts on his flip flops before walking towards the showers. “Bye Max.”

As he walks away he doesn’t look back, but when he reaches the showers and turns his head he can still catch Max quickly turning around and walking back to his post. 

—

“Back again?”

Maybe he should be embarrassed about the fact that Max seems to realise that he’s been here quite a lot lately. Still, he doesn’t let it show that he’s been caught as he smiles and puts his towel on one of the sun chairs. Max looks good in sand coloured shorts and dark blue shirt that stretches over his chest and shoulders, making it obvious that he goes to the gym. 

“Yeah,” Charles smiles. “The weather is nice, and they say swimming is healthy.”

He would kindly like the ground to swallow him whole for being so incredibly unsexy. Who in their right mind says that when they want to hit on the hot life guard? Truth is, Charles cares as much about swimming as the next person. At least Max is here again. The last two times Charles got out at the ass crack of dawn, Max wasn’t even here. 

Max smiles back. It’s the first time he’s really done that and he considers that a win. Charles considers telling him he should smile more often, but somehow he thinks that might just achieve the opposite effect. 

“It is. Lots of health benefits. Good for the muscles too.”

Charles hums, tries to show an interest, but he’s rather occupied with the way Max’s hair ruffles softly in the breeze. “Yeah? Are you a swim instructor?”

“No, but I’m studying to become a physical therapist.”

“Explains why you’re so fit.”

It just comes out like word vomit and Charles again wonders why the ground hasn’t opened up for him just yet. Max cheeks flush and Charles pretends he didn’t just say that and clears his throat. “So—this a part time job?” 

“Yeah—speaking of,” Max says when he looks into the direction of his post where another man stands with a disapproving look on his face. “I should probably get going if I want to keep it.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Charles nods, mortified. Any time now earth, end my suffering. “Of course.”

Max smiles a little awkwardly and wanders off to where the other guy waits and from the looks of it Max receives a scolding. Great, now he feels even worse. 

—

The rest of the afternoon Charles stays, he tries not to stare at Max as he constantly blows his whistle at children who are not abiding by the rules. The grumpy life guard role is a good look on him and Charles sadly has to admit it is doing all sorts of things for him. 

Or maybe he just needs to get laid. 

Charles continues to apply his sunscreen with a sigh. Not with Max though, he fears that ship may have sailed. 

Or has it?

Because when he looks into Max’s direction, he catches him looking directly at him. His whistle in his mouth and he’s probably supposed to blow it again as a couple of kids that are trying to go down the water slide with their inflatable unicorns. Still Max doesn’t seem to notice and when Charles waves and pulls down his sunglasses to wink, Max finally halfheartedly blows the whistle. 

Charles giggles. He's still got it.

—

An hour later, just after closing time Charles walks through the exit and back to his bicycle. It’s hard not to sulk, he was hoping to run into Max, but after lingering for longer than necessary, he had to give up.    

He unlocks his bike and as he does, his backpack falls on the ground, his phone dropping out of it. 

“Fuck.”

When he reaches down to grab it, someone beats him to it and when he looks up Max is holding it out to him with a smile. “Here you go. I don’t think it’s broken.”  

“Thank you,” Charles smiles back, his heart fluttering as their fingers brush. He puts his phone back in his bag and gets on his bike. “Well, see you.”

“Actually—”

“Yeah?” Charles asks, hoping he doesn’t sound as desperate as he feels. 

Max’s cheeks flush and he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. “I been meaning to ask, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to and well—”

“Max,” Charles smiles and when Max meets his eyes he says. “You want to go and have a drink?”

Charles deflates and pouts. “Oh.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s okay.”

Max lets out a laugh and rolls his eyes. “Is it now?”

“I’m sorry,” Charles shrugs and takes his glass again, swirling the wine before finishing it. “It’s just—It’s Ferrari! It’s the team.”

“Well the team hasn’t been doing that well for years.”

Charles squints at him. It’s not like he has a way to be able to watch F1. He hasn’t in years, everything is behind a paywall these days, and that’s a luxury Charles can’t afford. He puts his glass down and leans back on his hands. “And your team has?”

“You could say that. Well last year was different, and this year we’re struggling. But yeah we won championships.”

“You’re a world champion?”

“Does that surprise you?” Max asks, completely forgetting whatever he was going to do on that laptop of his.

“I don’t know,” Charles says truthfully. “I can’t follow Formula One. I used to, with my dad when I was growing up. But it’s too expensive. But well done, no wonder you’re famous.”

“Thanks,” Max smiles. A genuine one. There is no teasing behind it. His eyes crinkle adorably and he picks up his can of Red Bull again taking a sip. “So your dad also likes racing?”

That is not a can of worms Charles wants to open up tonight. Not with someone he doesn’t know, even though this is the first normal conversation he has had, that isn’t about making money, work or earning enough to pay rent. Max has treated him as a normal person and Charles can’t even tell him how much it means. Instead he just nods with a smile and fills his glass with the rest of the wine, before changing the topic.