"Has anyone ever told you that you're too kind, George Russell?"

~•~

"I should probably go," Vica whispered to George, who had stayed by her side the entire time they had been there. They sat at the table with the others, talking, getting to know each other, and occasionally mingling with the crowd.

Vica spotted Jess. The Asian girl was watching her closely, not looking pleased. Vica wanted to go over and explain what had happened, but someone always stopped her. Usually, it was Alex, with whom she had become good friends, talking mostly about art and books. Alex was younger but very knowledgeable and smart.

Or Lando would stop her, wanting to chat with the new member of their group – or at least, that was how he saw it. He noticed how his friend watched the girl and hoped the pair would eventually announce they were dating because they seemed perfect for each other. He knew George was the best guy she could find.

George didn't stop her from walking to Jess, understanding that Jess was the one Vica had come with and deserved some attention too – though he was also a bit glad someone always intercepted her, preventing her from reaching the Asian girl. He had heard what those models said to the blonde outside and saw how Jess just stood there without defending her friend.

"I'll walk you to your hotel," George said, standing up just as Vica did.

"You don't have to," she objected. "You can hang out with your friends. I don't really like parties, and just staying here for more than two and a half hours is a record for me."

"I can celebrate with them anytime, but when will I get another chance to walk a pretty girl home?" George smiled as he said this, which stirred feelings in Vica that she didn't quite understand. She had only known him for a few hours but already knew she didn't want this to be their last meeting, as she had never felt so comfortable with a guy before.

George took her hand as they started weaving through the crowd of sweaty bodies to get outside. People were clumsy and kept bumping into them – once so hard that if George hadn't been holding her hand, she probably would have fallen.

Within minutes, the pair were outside, breathing in the fresh air – as fresh as Miami allowed. It couldn't really be called fresh in the middle of the city, but it was better than the inside, where everything mixed together, creating a horrible smell of sweat, alcohol, cigarettes, and perfumes. Vica almost gagged remembering the air she had been inhaling for nearly three hours.

"You really don't have to walk me all the way to the hotel," Vica protested. She was relieved she no longer had to shout over the loud music. Now she could hear everything around her, including her own thoughts, which she hadn't heard for hours. Her voice was starting to hurt, so she welcomed the quiet.

"Then I'll order you a taxi," George said.

"I need to breathe in some fresh air, I don't want to ride, I want to walk," she explained.

"Then I'll walk with you because I'm not letting you go alone at night," George wrapped an arm around her shoulders and started walking, even though he didn't know the direction to Vica's hotel.

"Are we going the right way?" the brunette asked when he finally realized.

"We are," Vica chuckled, "but it's a good forty-five-minute walk."

"That's forty-five minutes more with you," George's constant smile made Vica feel things she hadn't felt before.

"You want to learn as much about me as possible, don't you?" she asked.

"You seem like a very interesting person," George shrugged, but he didn't remove his arm from her. Vica seemed comfortable with it, so he kept holding her – he would have pulled away if she had shown any discomfort.

"And I feel like I've known you my whole life, even though it's only been about three hours. I want to really know that life, not just feel like I do. I want it to be real," he added, momentarily leaving Vica speechless. No one had ever spoken to her like that – she wasn't familiar with this type of flirting, but she definitely couldn't say she didn't like it. She hoped he would continue.

"Ask me anything you want," Vica said.

"I know you don't like talking about it, but I'm really curious about your school," George spoke slowly, as if afraid his question might offend her. He didn't want the blonde to get upset with him just because he asked about her school.

"Jessica's friends always laugh at me when they find out I study at Oxford," Vica explained. "That's why I don't like talking about it. I don't need others laughing at me too."

"Well, they're dumb if they laugh at you just because you're smarter than they are," George said. "I think it's amazing that you study at a place like Oxford, because not just anyone gets in there. It's one of the best schools in the world, and I'm honored to be standing here with a girl who attended it."

"You're too kind, George," Vica blushed a little at all the compliments George showered her with. "I haven't graduated yet," she added.

"When do you graduate?" he asked. Vica appreciated that he seemed genuinely interested. There was no forced tone. He wasn't asking just to seem interested – he really was and wanted to know about her studies.

"I have my last test on Thursday and my final presentation on Friday," she told him.

"Then I'll be keeping my fingers crossed," George raised his free hand and clenched his fist to show her how he would be crossing his fingers. He looked adorable, and Vica couldn't help but smile.

She completely forgot all her worries and problems. She left Jess alone in the bar, but at that moment, she didn't think about it. She had a final exam in a few days and had barely studied for it, but with George by her side, she felt like she knew the answer to everything. The boy made her feel such a connection that she was afraid to explore it further. She feared her own thoughts and feelings. She had never felt this way before and didn't know what to do. She was afraid something terrible would happen, and she would just be sad for falling deeper into these feelings.

"And why did you choose literature?" George asked, breaking the silence. He genuinely wanted to learn everything about her that he could before they reached her hotel.

"I loved books even as a little girl," Vica began. "My mom and dad always read to me at bedtime, and after a few weeks, I would correct them if they read something wrong or changed anything because I had memorized the stories."

George laughed at this. "I can imagine what a little rascal you must have been."

"I was a good, easygoing, and carefree child," Vica poked George in the ribs, to which he responded with a chuckle. He was indeed attractive, and Vica found it hard to focus on the path without gazing at him the whole time. Under the streetlights, his skin glowed with an orange hue, and his hair seemed to have its own aura, with an orange line surrounding his brown waves.

His blue eyes weren't very visible in that light, looking more like a peculiar mix of gold and gray, but Vica liked it. It looked strange yet charismatic, adding to his character.

"But to finish my story," Vica continued, "I didn't have many friends in elementary school. I was bullied a lot, so I spent my free time at home in the garden with my dog. I would always sit at the table, either drawing or writing. I made up my own stories to escape the harsh reality that was too cruel for a seven-year-old girl."

"I'm sorry to hear that," George pulled her closer, creating a comforting embrace. Vica's muscles relaxed, ones she didn't even realize had tensed during her story. She felt much better and found it easier to breathe.

"No one deserves to be bullied," George continued. "Especially a great girl like you. Your classmates would regret it if they saw what you've become because meeting someone as perfect as you is rare."

Vica wanted to smack George when he finished speaking. Not only did he evoke feelings in her that she couldn't describe, but he was also so perfect and flawless. How could someone so wealthy, who drove in Formula One, literally one of the chosen twenty, be such a gentleman? Vica didn't understand. She couldn't fathom how she had fallen for someone so quickly – she hadn't known him even twenty-four hours, yet she already wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. She trusted him with her own life... that's how much she trusted him.

Tears began to well up in her eyes as George finished talking. She wasn't sad. She was happy because it was the first time someone had been so kind to her. Never had anyone gone this long in a conversation without mentioning her big eyes or how far apart they were. George was surprising her every minute, and she was afraid of how things would continue.

"What did you write your stories about?" George asked, confirming what Vica had been thinking.

"About everything," she answered, trying to look away so he wouldn't see the tears in her eyes. "But mostly, I wrote stories about a little girl who hid in her imaginary world, where everything was perfect, just to escape the harsh reality where everything was falling apart like a house of cards."

"It's sad that you went through all of that when you were little," George said, stopping and causing her to stop too. The blonde looked at him in surprise, not understanding why he had stopped. Then he hugged her. He trapped the almost two-heads-shorter girl in such a tight embrace that Vica knew one thing – this boy didn't want her to leave. She didn't plan on it either. After tonight, she knew George wasn't the type of person she'd been running from all these years.

"There was much more," Vica mumbled. "Maybe I'll tell you about it someday."

"I hope so, because that would mean we would meet again," George nodded. They pulled away but only enough for George to put his arm around her shoulders and start walking towards the hotel again.

"But enough about me. How did you get into Formula One?" she asked.

"I spent a lot of time on the tracks as a kid because my older brother Benjy was into karting," he began. "I tried it when I was seven and fell in love with the sport just like my classmates fell in love with football," he chuckled at the last sentence, and Vica joined him because it was true – at seven, many of her male classmates were obsessed with football.

"And I guess you had talent because otherwise, you wouldn't be where you are today."

"I was a natural talent," he proudly patted his chest, making Vica laugh. He was truly adorable. "But I know what you're getting at. You changed the topic, but you still haven't told me why literature."

"And I thought talking about you would distract you," she stomped her foot playfully, making George laugh again. "I just wrote my stories since I was little. I loved showing them to my parents and even won a few literary contests when I submitted my stories. In high school, the bullying didn't get better, so I spent my time alone in the garden again. I constantly wrote stories and read to expand my vocabulary. When I thought about university, I couldn't think of any field other than literature because it had always been a part of my life."

"Do you want to publish your own book?" he asked. George noticed a lit-up building in the distance and realized they were getting close to her hotel. They didn't have much time left together, but he was determined to ask for her phone number because he knew he wanted to stay in touch with her after tonight.

"That's my biggest dream," Vica nodded. "I already have one finished and just need to make some adjustments, but it's almost done. I want to publish it this year. Also, someday in the future, I want to create a children's book composed of the stories I wrote when I was little."

"That sounds great," George smiled. "I hope it works out because the world deserves to see a book by Vica Pascall."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're too kind, George Russell?" she asked.

"Yes," George nodded, stopping as they arrived in front of the hotel. "You did today."

"Well, I'm telling you again," she smiled.

"And what's your book about?" he asked.

"Maybe I'll tell you about it someday," she used the same line as before to tease him a bit.

"Then we definitely need to meet again," George said.

"I'd love that," Vica nodded. "But for now, goodbye, George Russell." The blonde stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you for the escort and a wonderful evening," she said, placing a piece of paper in his hand as he stood there, stunned with surprise, and walked into the hotel.

At that moment, she didn't even realize how much she had enchanted him with that kiss.

~•~