be my baby.

The cool breeze blew against her face as her feet hit the ground, the crisp smell of wet dirt and gravel wafting through her nose as the crunch of them beneath her feet sounded through her ears. It was a brisk morning, the type that Isla preferred for an outdoor run. Especially after it had rained, the air had the fresh scent of petrichor in the air and brought along with it an unmatched feeling of clarity to the sinuses and lungs.

She panted, her heart racing as her dark brown hair began to stick to her forehead and neck with sweat. The view more than enough to keep her distracted from the burning feeling that had begun to build within her side.

The trees lining the trail had become hosts to a variety of critters, from birds to squirrels to even more varieties of rodents, causing the calming atmosphere created by the foliage to be broken occasionally by the chirps and tweets. It was peaceful.

"Keep up, Lancelot!" She jeered breathily, glancing over her shoulder at her brother as he struggled to keep pace with her. They were jogging on an incline, the trail wrapping around the frost-covered hills and overlooking a beautiful lake at the center of the valley. It was a breathtaking view and one of the main reasons that Isla loved it so much.

"This isn't fair," he panted. His fluffy black hair billowed up and down across his forehead as he ran. "Not all of us were track stars growing up."

She turned around so that she was facing her brother, uncaring of the fact that she now might trip jogging backward. "You'd think a Formula One driver would be more in shape to keep up with their non-athlete sister."

"Non-athlete my ass," he groaned, letting his head fall forward a bit as he struggled to keep form, "You do all of this for fun!"

"And you do this professionally," Isla shot back almost immediately, laughing at her brother's red and sweaty face. "Why aren't you in better shape?"

"Because I don't normally wake up at four in the morning to run damn marathons every day!"

She rolled her eyes, "Stop being dramatic, my runs are not that long. Coco comes with me sometimes too, so that should tell you that you're just out of shape."

"Cocoa is a dog. A tiny dog, sure, but that's still not comparable at all. You know, you should try and get Dad to join you one of these days," Lance joked, although it was a weak response due to his heavy breathing.

Isla laughed, her head thrown back in delight. "Oh, that'll be the day! Can you imagine Papa doing this?"

Lance snorts, "No."

"You know," Isla said. "You didn't have to fly all the way back here to see me, I was going to meet you out in Bahrain in a few days anyway."

"Yeah, but then you wouldn't get to beat my ass in a run would you?" Lance huffed, his cheeks incredibly flushed that Isla wondered how he

The conversation whittled off after that, at least for another ten minutes before Lance's panting became a little too loud for Isla's liking. Slowing her steady pace she said, "Let's take a break."

"Oh thank God," Lance gasped as he immediately slowed to a stop and hunched over, his hands bracing themselves on his knees.

"Okay, now I know you're just being dramatic," Isla told him, but still ran her hand up and down

"Sorry I'm not the fucking flash," he complained. "How do you do this every day?"

Isla shrugged. It wasn't like she'd started out with these longer runs, she—like everyone else—built up the endurance for this. This was the culmination of years' worth of endurance training, something that Lance had in spades in other areas.

He was the better driver(by default), better athlete, and better social speaker. Isla on the other hand was the better scholar, better linguist, and better communicator privately. They complemented each other, so much so that their family used to joke that they were twins—despite the fact that Isla was adopted when she was eight and Lance seven.

"It's not that hard, once you're used to it," she said. "I bet the same goes for racing."

Lance scoffed, raising an eyebrow at her as he straightened his stance, "Racing is way more difficult than running."

A quick smack to the back of his head causes him to shout in protest. "Hey, what the hell?!"

"Both are athletic achievements, don't disparage one from the other." she scolded. "They're different fields, hardly comparable."

"But you have to admit that one is harder than the other," he said.

Isla simply raised an eyebrow at him and gestured to his exhausted and sweaty form, "Are you or are you not currently dying of exhaustion from my daily run?"

"That's different," he tried but Isla was having none of it.

"It's really not."

A quick glance at her watch lets Isla know that they have been on their run for just about an hour and were close to completing the full trail she had worked out for them the day before. "We only have a few more miles left on our docket and that's the wrap-around trip, so only about fifteen to twenty minutes before you can go back to sitting on your ass. Are you ready?"

"You bet your ass I am," Lance chuckled, knocking their shoulders together as he ran past her. Almost knocking her over in the process. Just like that, they were back to their usual banter.

Isla gasped as she struggled to keep her balance, "Lance! Te voy a matar!"

Lance chuckled as he raced away, trying his best to keep himself out of his sister's grasp.

❛ ━━･❪ ⚘ ❫ ･━━ ❜

Occupying Isla's kitchen after they had arrived back at her home, showered, and gotten redressed, the two siblings finally had a chance to really sit down and chat. The kitchen itself was large, light, and airy, with white countertops and light pink cabinets, golden brass hardware, and large windows overlooking the backyard on the far side of the room, letting in copious amounts of light. It was exactly the type of thing Lance would expect from his girly and soft-hearted sister.

"So the first race of the season is next week," Isla started as she cut up some freshly washed strawberries and threw them into a bowl. The sleeves of her pastel-colored cardigan fell down her forearms slightly, forcing a huff of frustration from her. "How are you feeling?"

Lance sighed from where he was seated on a pink barstool at the opposite end of the large island, "Well it's the same every year, right? There's no reason to be nervous."

"But you are," Isla smiled softly, seeing right through him.

He shrugged, tapping absentmindedly at the island's surface. It wasn't new to him, this pre-season excitement and nervousness, but it still felt ridiculous to him to feel like this. Especially after he'd done this his entire life, it made him feel like a rookie, when in reality he was a very capable driver(though he was sure many would disagree). He had experience, so why was he so nervous every year?

"It's okay to be nervous, Lance." she told him gently, "It's a natural reaction. No matter how many times you do something, you're always going to feel that same sense of excitement and panic."

"How do you do it?" he asked her, resting his head on the palm of his hand. "Every time you have to speak at another conference or run another marathon. How do you keep yourself sane?"

"I cry." she deadpanned as she moved on from chopping strawberries to honeydew melon. It was her favorite fruit and she could hardly go a day without eating it.

Lance stopped from where he was reaching over to grab slices of fruit from the bowl and shot his sister a look, "What, are you trying to be funny right now?"

Now it was Isla's turn to be confused, she had been genuine when she'd given her answer, but apparently, Lance didn't seem to realize that. "No? I'm serious."

"You cry on a regular basis?" he asked incredulously.

"That's what I said," she responded, sliding the pieces of melon off of the chopping board and into the bowl. "It's healthy to cry on a regular basis, prevents my emotions from bottling up inside and exploding."

She didn't mention the fact that she's had to nearly double her water intake in order to counteract the effects of dehydration that the crying has caused, that was not important.

She also did not mention the frequent headaches that said crying sessions had caused her. It would only worry Lance.

"Have you always done that?" Lance questioned further because as much as he'd like to think he knew his sister, there were still a lot of things they kept secret from the other.

Everyone was entitled to their own privacy after all.

Isla shrugged. It was something she'd done for as long as she could remember, whether she'd always done it or developed it at some point remained a mystery to her. All she knew was that it happened.

"I've done it since I was little, but I'm not sure about always."

"And Dad knew?" Lance asked suspiciously. He couldn't imagine a world where their Dad had stood idly by while little Isla cried her heart out whenever something didn't go her way. Isla was by no means a brat, a rare trait to be found in people like them, but she was sensitive.

Lance remembered how far their Dad would go simply to see each of them smile. It was, after all, one of the reasons that Lawrence Stroll had purchased and committed to running an entire Formula One team.

Isla hesitated, "Yes and no? Well...yes but that doesn't mean he exactly cared for it. Trust me when I say that some of Papa's worst memories are of me crying when I got overwhelmed."

Lance snorted and reached out for a piece of strawberry, "Well that sounds unhealthy as hell, thanks for that unhelpful advice though."

In retaliation, Isla gaped and playfully smacked his hand away. "Excuse you, if you're not going to appreciate my wise mentor's advice, you can go and find your own food!"

"Hey!" Lance laughed and bodily threw himself across the island to grab a handful of fruit out of the bowl, then proceeded to shove it in his mouth—giving Isla a smug look as she glared at him, knife still in hand.

"You suck."

Lance swallowed the food in his mouth, "You swallow."

"Well, actually–" Isla smirked.

Lance pointed at her, "Don't."

"Oh, so you can tease and insult me, even after I so graciously invited you into my home," she sent the knife into the sink now that she was done with it. "But I can't?"

"Yeah pretty much," the younger shrugged.

"That goes against like," she feigned a thought. "All sibling rules whatsoever. I'm supposed to be the one making fun of you and threatening bodily harm when you least expect it."

Lance shot her a weird look, "Threatening bodily harm was more of Chloe's job than yours."

"I can be multi-talented Strulovitch," Isla huffed.

"You can't just call me by my last name when we share the same one."

"Anyway," Isla ignored him. "You don't have to worry about a thing, I'll be with you all season. If you ever need someone to talk some sense into you, I'll be there."

Lance paused, "You're going to be there all season? I thought it was just going to be Bahrain and then you'd be working remotely all year again."

It was a weird notion for Lance to grasp if he were being honest. Isla hated traveling, so much so that she'd gone to college in Canada and then settled down in Canada. Buying a house almost immediately after graduating—in name only, with COVID-19 having ruined her last year—she then began working remotely for the Aston Martin media and press team as a social media admin.

Isla would absolutely rather stay comfortable at home than constantly on the road. So for her to just casually announce that she'd be with them the entire season? It was unbelievable, to say the least.

The brunette woman hesitated, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. She could either admit to Lance her ulterior motives or she could lie and save herself the embarrassment of being laughed at.

I mean really it was an obvious choice?

"I've decided I need to at least experience the world before I stay here and root myself in Montreal indefinitely," she played it off, hoping that Lance wouldn't try and dig deeper.

No such luck.

Lance stared at her with a raised eyebrow and simply responded with, "That's the worst excuse I've ever heard come out of your mouth, but okay. Don't tell me, I'll find out eventually anyway."

Isla let her upper body fall across the island's surface in despair.

"Can we just...not?"

Lance sighed dramatically. There was no point in trying to pry the information out of her now, sooner or later she'd either accidentally spill whatever secret she was keeping or decide to come clean about what she was hiding.

"Okay, whatever you say."

He could wait.

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╰┈➤𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

the ending is so abrupt and makes no sense it makes me want to scream and cry but oh well, i needed to get this chapter out so i would stop feeling like i was neglecting my child...🗿

ANYWHO isla is actually my favorite oc ever, and i needed you ALL to understand the level of pretty pink princess she is. think barbie times 10!!

all the imagery was SO unnecessary but YOU HAD TO UNDERSTAND THE VISION!!

until next time,
charley xx