clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose.

Q: what do you have to do personally to think about this as a championship winning year?

"I bet you can, LouLou." Jaxson held back a smirk at her response. He liked the back and forth they had. Keeping her on her toes and she on his. Had he been a little more bolder and less focused on his work, he would just ask her out. But he always buried himself in his work, wanting to somehow set a deficit, in some scales that did not exist, to offset what his family did. he also didn't want her to get the impression that he just wanted to sleep with her. Though as she neared, he let himself be intoxicated for a moment in the scent and proximately of her.

Chuckling, he added. "I bet he would. Ximena's got no issue with it. She loves fostering. She loves it when you bring new ones around for her to nurse back to health and help find homes for." Which was true. Ximena loved seeing Lou, she knew that she'd have a cute new critter to care for. " And," he stood up straight, petting the cat with a smile. "It doesn't seem too bad. We'll cast up the arm, clean up the wounds and a course of antibiotics. They'll be good as new." Smiling at Lou, he couldn't help but be captivated by how much she cared for animals. While she was beautiful to look at, he had began to fall for how beautiful she was inside as well.

"Perfect, then Ximena can foster him for now," she said with a nod. She smiled softly at Jax, catching herself blushing under his attention. Something about the man's gaze felt different, like he wasn't just being polite. It didn't feel quite the same as when she was flirting with him, either. This one felt a little different, and she liked it much more than she could express. "What would I do without ya, doc?" She hoped the playful question didn't burst the moment entirely, but that he'd catch her true appreciation underneath it.

"I don't keep y'all apart," she said, lifting a hand to her chest as though the mere suggestion was offensive enough. "You know where to find us any time you want. It's not my fault you're such a popular guy with a busy schedule." She was, of course, only joking right back. Jax was usually working more than he was jumping from bed to bed. That was more her style, and while Lou wasn't ashamed of it one bit, she certainly didn't want to hash out the details with Jax of all people. As much as she wanted to get him into bed as quickly as possible, there was a part of Lou Dunn that felt like it might be the sort of thing she couldn't bounce back from. Maybe his pulling back was good for their friendship.

"Saturday night at seven? I'll make you dinner and everything, and we can play house after." She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, knowing exactly how that sounded. "With our son, I mean. Just a happy little family." Lou turned to face Jax, her hip still resting against the examination table. "Maybe I'll try and put on something a little sexier, just in case you want to get any ideas."

"Marti," he said with a sigh. Now that he was in front of her all the bravado he had a moment ago was gone. The real reason, and everyone who had grown up with them knew it, was that no matter how many up's and down's they had, he was hopelessly in love with her. Ever since he developed that crush on her when he was eleven. It set into motion where they were now. His heart would alway be hers to break , bury, smash or hold. Pathetic, he knew it but what could he do?

She slid her hand into his instantly, feeling like it was a peace offering on his part more than an obligation. They hadn't exactly ended things on a great note after the last big fight they'd had, and Marti would eventually work up the courage to bring that up... But for now, she wanted to keep things cordial, if not friendly. Without needing any more encouragement, Marti let herself be pulled along to the dance floor happily.

As soon as she was back in his arms, Marti tilted her chin upward, watching Mav's face carefully. His words weren't funny, but Marti couldn't help but laugh at them. "When did I ever give you the impression that I was the sort of girl who had a man worth being talked about by the grapevine?" Their song and dance had started long before people were gossiping about either of them, so everyone knew they weren't the type to put a label on things by the time word started getting around. "If anyone's going to tie me down, we both know who it is." She reached up and flicked the tip of his hat that still sat on her head, making sure he knew just who she was talking about. "Besides, I want to dance with you. Not some man who doesn't even exist."

For a boy straight out of slow, small town Blackshear, Georgia, Monaco was truly a sight to behold. Filled to the brim with glitz and glamor and riches, it was a place he’d always dreamed about as a child, but never actually believed he’d get to experience. And now here he was, making his way into one of the most popular spots in Monte Carlo, but that wasn’t why Sawyer Brooks was pinching himself. No, that’d be because he’d finished P9 in a race he’d been preparing for his entire life. Not only was it a personal best, but he’d scored vital points for his team in the process. It didn’t matter that he stuck out like a sore thumb as he slipped through the crowd inside the Amber Lounge, dressed in his characteristic button down, blue jeans, and cowboy boots, nothing could bring him down tonight.

He’d nearly considered skipping the afterparty altogether– clubs weren’t his scene and never had been– but Sawyer knew nights like these had an expiration date. Nothing was ever guaranteed in Formula 1– he’d been told by his TP to soak up all that he could, and he knew better than to refuse an order. With the heavy bass thrumming in his ears and unfurling in his chest, Sawyer sidled up to the main bar, catching the attention of the bartender in what felt like record time– slowly but surely, the Haas rookie was beginning to feel the perks of his promotion to F1, and this was just one of them. 

Smiling a bit sheepishly, he cleared his throat, “Whiskey– neat,” he managed over the pulsing music before he leaned forward, resting an elbow on the bartop and turning to the side. And that was when he saw her. 

To date, he’d only had a few fleeting interactions with Odette Clement– hardly enough to even qualify as conversations, but she’d been ever present on social media, dropping encouraging comments here and there, and he’d taken notice. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noted the one she’d left him before this Grand Prix– Can’t wait to watch you run, cowboy. “Fancy meetin’ you here,” he greeted over the noise just as the bartender slid his drink across to him. Raising it to his lips, he took a quick sip, relishing the burn, “I run fast enough for ya?”

It wasn't that he'd kept her waiting—again, they hadn't made any sort of plan—just that Odette was looking forward to possibly expanding on their playful online flirtations. Jean would kill her if he knew she was planning on getting with Sawyer Brooks. He'd told her before that drivers weren't playthings, weren't guys for her to prance around with or parade across her social media clamoring for hype and followers. She didn't bother pointing out that she had plenty of clout due to her own successes, just rolled her eyes and changed the subject. Her romantic life was none of his business, especially when it came to the rookie driver. After all, it could turn out to be nothing, though Odette really hoped it would at least be a little fun.

She'd just ordered a drink from the bartender and turned to scan the crowd, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. There'd been more than one comment made that night already about how she looked like a disco ball out on the floor, but the bar lights seemed to double as they bounced off her dress and the bottles along the wall. Then she saw him, and her stomach very nearly did a back flip. The guys Odette had been with thus far were all similar enough: usually from money, European, and incredibly concerned about their fashion. Sawyer Brooks was different, and Odette was impressed. It took some real balls to roll up into a place like this wearing jeans and cowboy boots that looked less like an outfit choice and more like they'd seen some real dirt.

Reaching to take the glass as the bartender slid her drink toward her, Odette let her gaze move over Sawyer slowly. She didn't immediately jump to acknowledge his greeting, instead taking a slow sip of the vodka soda she'd ordered. She'd lost count of how many drinks she'd had, but she wasn't a sloppy mess. Still, the drink in her hand barely registered on her taste buds, her gaze finally returning back up to Sawyer's face with a smile that implied her approval—though surely he knew well before tonight that he'd earned it. "Mmm," she hummed as though she was considering her answer carefully, glancing at the drink in her hand before resting her chin on her shoulder, flicking her gaze to him.

"On the track? Absolutely. Your team making the points isn't a given, so you really put your best foot forward. It definitely didn't go unnoticed," she admitted. "Though I could've done with you showing up here a little sooner. I've been dying for some real entertainment," she added with a playful lilt in her voice.

Jin looked at the bags, hands on his hips, and lips pursed thoughtfully. “So, regifting, huh? Whose gifts are they?” 

"My brother," Odette explained, waving a free hand in exasperation. Paired with an eye roll, Jean-Laurent's name was often singed with a tone of pure annoyance. They were the sort of siblings who nearly never saw eye to eye, but somehow couldn't bear to be strangers for long. Well, Odette couldn't stand to leave him alone. It wasn't her fault he was so fun to annoy. "People have been sending him stuff forever, and somehow he still gets PR packages from companies that know he can't wear their stuff, so it's my job to rescue it and find it a new home."

When Benny backed him against the desk, Siwan’s breath caught. He tilted his head back as Benny’s lips moved down his jaw to his neck. He moved his hand up his back and rested it on the back of Benny’s shoulder. He shivered at his words, suddenly unable to think again. This was different from anyone he had ever been with. Siwan’s free hand moved to rest on Benny’s waist as he nodded. “Definitely okay with that.” He hummed and pulled him closer towards him until he felt his chest pressed against his own.

And he was definitely okay with having Benny all to himself without any interruptions. Maybe it was selfish of him to think that, but he had been promised his full attention, after all. He tilted his head forward and pressed soft kisses to Benny’s neck, and shoulder. 

Full attention was what he'd promised Siwan, and that was exactly what Benny gave him. He didn't know how long they stayed there, hands slowly exploring each other like a couple of teenagers toeing the line for the first or second time. Every time he found a new spot or elicited a new sound from Siwan, Benny made a mental note of returning to it later. By some miracle, he didn't feel the need to rush. In fact, when he said he was going to take his time, he meant it. After some time, he pulled back just enough to look Siwan in the eyes, making sure the other was still fully present and okay with where they were and what they were doing. The moment he felt hesitation or regret, he'd stop, and he wasn't going to forget to check for green lights along the way.

Realizing just how out of breath he felt—somehow just kissing Siwan took every bit of his concentration and focus, and his lungs were starting to feel it—Benny chuckled softly. "I guess I should let you have some of that whiskey, huh?" He glanced toward the glasses he'd brought with them without actually pulling back. "I can't seem to get enough of you," he whispered as he leaned back in for another kiss, clearly torn between the outcome of his own words.

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