The first few minutes after Zak locks the door is pure, suffocating silence.

Oscar stands by the wall far away, arms crossed, shoulders raise defensive like he's braced for a crash no sensor can predict. I hover by the table, pretending to look for something, anything, that gives me an excuse not to look at him. My heart is hammering the inside of my ribs – could be nervousness, anger, anxious, you name it, I have it.

I pat my pocket for my phone, hoping to kill time. Nothing. Oscar pats his, also empty. No distraction, no escape, what a great way to die! Realizing we couldn't just use our phone to pass time, Oscar comes to the door and tests the handle, but it won't bulge.

He sighs, long and tired. "We could wait until he cools off".

I shrug. "Could be hours, or right after midnight". Having known him for such a long time doesn't mean I could predict the outcome easily.

We scan the room like two bored kids stuck in detention. The list of available things could go on and on but full of useless stuffs. There's a stack of unused data, a white board with dried marker, two chairs, a table. Then also regret, tension and absolutely no escape route.

Oscar collapses into one chair, looking helpless and given up. I sit in the other, in a careful distance away. I tear my eyes of his sight, face down on the table, preparing to drift off to sleep.

After what feels like forever, just as I'm drifting somewhere between consciousness and nothing, Oscar breaks the silence. So quietly that I almost thought I dreamt of it.

"Sorry I crash into you today."

I look up to catch the tiredness in his eyes in a way that sleep won't fix, worn thin from weeks of pretending. Then right before I reconsider the whole thing in my head, I blunt out, "I'm sorry for everything."

Words rush out, unstoppable. "I keep thinking of you Osc. About that night, about what you said. And mostly, I think of how I walked away like an idiot without asking you for some time"

I keep going, because if I stop, I'll never have the nerve to start again. "You look fine without me. Like nothing ever happened between us and God, how I hate that smile of yours."

Oscar raises an eyebrow at me, confused, "Hate me?"

I almost scream at him. "Because I wasn't fine Osc. Still not fine. I never understand why you look so perfectly fine when I try to gather broken pieces and glue myself back together."

I stand up, closing the gap between us until Oscar's features fill my vision, freckles visible along his neck.
"You avoided me, Oscar. You made it look like I imagined the whole thing and I was the stupid dude being played the entire time."

Oscar tries his best to put on a bravery face but I know inside his head is a storm. If this is the way my heart breaks, then let it be. Let me destroy myself in the most direct way, rather than staying than this lovelorn. So I speak, letting the truth leaving me like a confession I've been carrying too long.

"I didn't know how to want you without ruining everything. We both have too much to lose. And you know I never give up on anything I want. Forgive me, because all of this is new to me too", I admit.

Oscar's eyes widen, then soften in a devasting, melting way. Like he's been waiting for those words of mine. My name is leaving his lips like a prayer, over and over again. He whispers, voice shaking, "What do you want from me, Lando?"

The question hangs in the air like heat of Miami – shimmering, dangerous, ready to explode and hurt our heart anytime. I've run from the question and the answer for weeks, buried it under professionalism, strategy, analyzation.

For the first time, I don't see the point of hiding. I step into his space fully, my hands are on his, thumbs circle lazily.

"I want you Oscar. Not as a one-night mistake. Not as teammates trying to stay peacefully together. Not as something I can pretend to ignore so easily."

"I want you to be mine. Be mine, Piastri. Be mine."

Finally my heart lies bare on table. Whatever I have been keeping with me for such a long time, is now there for Oscar to decide. Whatever he wants to do with my heart, I would have to accept it delightfully.

The silence doesn't last long. Oscar's voice is thin as air, tells me quietly – "Then be mine too Lando"

That line only hits me harder than any crash ever has. Oscar's face tilts toward me, so close that my lips would be on his if I lean in a bit closer. I breathe in, he breathes out, our breaths collide in the most natural way. Suddenly, it's more intimate than any kiss could ever be.

Realization dawns in his eyes, he speaks fast, cuts off the romance in the air – "We.... can't be public. No one can find out when we are still racing together."

A small part of me aches, but this is something I have spent nights thinking of. Nothing can drown out the certainty rising in me, the belief I have in him and in us.

"Then let's be private" – I agree – "but exclusive".

Oscar looks at me like a treasure he just spent years finding in the deep ocean. His forehead almost bumps mine, almost. His lips hover a breath away from mine, trembling, desperate. The way he says my name – slow, aching, reverent – makes my knees go weak.

Oscar's breath is still warm against my lips, our forehead so close they are nearly touching. His hands cupping the side of my cheeks, pulling me close. The whole room feels like it's holding its breath, waiting for the most important moment to come.

The brunette boy whispers my name again, soft enough to undo me. We both lean in, prepare ourselves for the inevitable.

BANG!

The door slams open with enough force to rattle the drywall. Oscar jerks backward like he's been caught red-handed committing an international crime.

Zak Brown stands in the doorway, chest heaving, holding a cup of coffee in his hand, which he definitely did not buy for us. He stares as us like a suburban dad who caught his two teenagers experimenting with emotions and bad choices.

He looks at the microscopic distance between us, then at our faces – mine flushed, Oscar red-cheeked and wild-eyed. He points at Oscar, then me, then at the distance between us.

"Two idiots. I left you in the room for 30 minutes only, and WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

Oscar stammers, tries to make sense of whatever he could think of, "Zak, we weren't – we didn't – it's not what you think –"

Zak barrels before either of us can jump into his mouth, "Who won the fight huh? Oscar you might be a good fighter with strong punches but Lando is good at dodging, so who won in that little fight of yours?"

"Oh, please, I didn't hit him" – I force words out, try so hard not to laugh, otherwise I'll piss him off even more.

Whatever, Zak still throws his arms up in despair, must have thinking why wouldn't he get older and wiser drivers in this team. He rounds on us again, "Did you sort out the mirror-driving-patterns thingy?"

We both answer at the same time, a bit too fast I supposed, which makes him mad even more, "NO. NOT YET."

Zak gasps like we just admitted to arson, "Of course YOU DID NOT". He gestures at the ceiling like pleading with unseen Gods from above, "Your traces are identical. IDENTICAL! I have seen synchronized swimmers with less coordination."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, Oscar hides his face in his hands. We both do the best we could to not show a single tiny bit of emotion in front of our CEO. Zak continues with his meltdown:
- You are crashing into each other, breathing the same air, talking at the same time, finishing each other's sentences. Do you know what the engineer said?

Oscar squeaks, "No, we don't"

Zak pitches his voice higher, mocking – "Like they are sharing the same brain. One single brain, if it's possible. I might need to sacrifice you to labs and hospitals instead of keeping you on tracks."

I mutter, mortified, "We do not share a brain. It's nonsense. Who even came up with that?"

Zak points at us both, "Something is happening and I want it fixed. Gosh I signed up for podium and championships, not soap opera". He storms towards the hallway and shouts over his shoulders, "When we get back to MTC, both of you are doing therapy. Actual professional one. I am so done with this."

He disappears down the corridor like a storm, the door slams shut behind him. The silence returns to the room as we try to collect ourselves after being yelled at like 12-year-old kids.

We laugh. Definitely not a nice nor professional thing to do, but we laugh anyway, harder than we have ever been. Oscar's voice is still shaky from all the laugh, confirming again – "That was a disaster. He's never been that angry towards us."

I step closer to him, still trying to stop the hysterical laugh while putting my fingers on his hands. "Imagine if he walked in 20 seconds later."

And just with one sentence, our laughs go way, the heat returns to our chest. Oscar raises an eyebrow, amused, "You need 20 seconds more to kiss me?"

I'm blushing crimson red and it's not hard for Oscar to see. However, there must be some generosity left over in him that he stops teasing me and offers me a hand instead, walking out of the room with me.

We slip put of the meeting room like two kids escaping detention. Zak is still ranting somewhere down the hall but we decide not to listen anymore and let him have his moment.

Oscar nudges my shoulder with his as we walk behind the hospitality building, away from camera, engineers and people. The sunset paints everything gold, turning his curls into something unbearably soft.

We stop without planning to, as if the gravity pulled us into the same soft, at the same time. Oscar looks at me, the honesty in his eyes is enough to undo whatever strength I'm pretending to have.

His voice comes out a whisper, "Exclusive?"

I nod, stepping close enough to hook his pinky in mine, "Exclusive."

For a moment, the world shrinks to sweat, sunlight and the warmth of the man standing next to me. Our heartbeat are incredibly loud that it might scare anyone walks pass us.

Oscar talks in my ears, low and warm, "Don't make me crash into you again tomorrow."

I huff a quiet laugh against his skin, "Only if you stop copying my driving style."

I take a step forward – a stupid burst of courage – and I press a soft kiss to Oscar's cheeks. He freezes on spot, but I've already darted backward, heat rushing up to my neck.

"LANDO! Come back here"

I call over my shoulder while still speed-walking away, "Later!"

He sputters behind me, tries to catch up with my speed, "YOU CANNOT DO THAT, AND THEN RUN AWAY."

I absolutely can. And I just did.