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"IF I'd been told Formula 1 was this crazy, I would have started paying attention way sooner!" Maia reels, taking in the information Oscar had just dropped on her as they gossip over their lunch meals.

See, while Oscar does talk when on the paddock or on the track, he apparently doesn't talk enough to escape the 'quiet introvert' title he's claimed against his will. Such a thing has its ups and downs, but one of the 'ups' was how much people trusted him with random information—and since Maia didn't particularly give a damn about Formula 1 anyway, he figured it'd be fine if he fulfilled his promise of driver drama and let a few things slip.

"Well, now you know," he nods, crumbling the paper cover of his now-finished chicken wrap. "And this whole thing is just between us, okay?"

Maia had long-ditched the purple sweater she wore at the start of the flight, and let loose her hair from those cool little side buns she wore them in before even leaving the hotel. Oscar had done the same, removing his hoodie and revealing his white T-shirt underneath, almost matching with Maia's tank-top.

She puts her head on the top of her palm, leaning over the table and over her Caesar salad. "If someone asks me, I promise to say that I have no clue," she affirms, earning a smile from the driver now opening up his water-bottle.

"Good. That's just what I want to hear," he jokes, taking a sip.

It's the fourth hour of the flight, having killed a good chunk of time talking, which now leaves only about eight hours before they land in Los Angeles—and Oscar has learned that eight hours is, in fact, not actually a very long time.

"You guys should make a reality show," she proposes as she picks up her fork to pierce a few pieces of lettuce.

Oscar lowers the bottle and tightens the cap again. "We do have one," he replies simply, and Maia gasps like the new information is the best discovery in modern-day history.

"Where can I watch it?"

"Netflix. Be wary though, some of it is played up for the content," Oscar reminds.

As Maia lets a small 'okay' out, Oscar pulls out his phone and sees a few unread messages from Lando and Logan—no doubt curious about his traveling with Maia—and a couple E-Mails he'll have to look at later.

Off-season was always quiet for him, or it was usually, at least. He tends to never even really post anything or do much, focusing on spending time with family and friends with the occasional catching up on the video games he likes to play.

This was the most action-packed off-season he's had in a hot minute, with Maia's reintroduction into his life, and in full honesty, he could get used to it—get used to being back by her side again.

After that, they don't talk for a good while. Maia had pushed away her finished salad box to the corner of the table, her eyes trained on the clouds outside; all the while Oscar has his eyes trained on her.

The silence was begging to be filled with anything, any stupid conversation that could be conjured up in the moment.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks, watching as she doesn't spare him a glance.

"Nothing."

Okay, good talk.

Oscar nods slowly and looks around the plane. He knows the ins and outs of it like the back of his hands from how often he's been inside, and yet the most interesting thing was the person in front of him, and it didn't seem like she had even a sliver of energy to spare him anymore.

He swipes his crumbled trash and reaches over to grab Maia's plastic container. He then gets up from his seat and throws them away in the plane's trash bin in the corner, leaving the table with much more space now without the mess.

When he gets back to his seat, Maia is still looking out the window, her head still placed over her palm as she sits with her elbow on the table.

Oscar really did believe that he had started getting somewhere with her. The banter, the little touches, the small talk that maybe wasn't just small talk after all. She even said it herself that he was getting close to being her friend again, and he intends to keep working at it.

He just wants to be friends once more, like how they used to be, and right his wrongs. He doesn't care about his little crush he's had on her, the crush that's lingered in his brain even when he didn't realize it was there.

He just wants his Maia back, and to be able to not tip-toe around her, or be stressed if he's doing something wrong or if she's going to slip away any second.

"You sure you're thinking about nothing?" He asks quietly, foot tapping on the carpeted floor of the plane.

Maia turns her head. "What are you thinking about, Oscar?"

You.

He shrugs with a frown. "The training I have to do, the texts I have to answer..."

"So busy," she says with a breath of laughter. "I'm still on winter break until the eighth so, I have plenty of free time."

"Any new projects you're working on?" Oscar asks as he watches her fix her legs into a crisscross position.

She shakes her head. "Nothing at the moment, but I do have a shoot for a magazine in a few days."

Oscar raises his eyebrows as he nods. "Wow, that's nice." He licks his lips in an attempt to satiate his nerves that are creeping up the back of his neck. "Lando told me about this one article he had to do for GQ a few months ago. He had to do a photoshoot and everything," he rambles, and suddenly, Maia's attention is piqued.

"O-o-h," she sings, curiosity (or deviousness, he can't really tell) shining in her eyes. "Bagged yourself one of those interviews yet?"

He only scoffs. "No, definitely not."

"Aw, why? I could see you sporting some Louis Vuitton," Maia quirks her head to the side, and the way she's looking at him makes him feel like his shirt is suddenly a bit too tight on the neck. "Maybe Tommy Hilfiger actually, since you kind of have the nice-posh-guy-next-door thing going on for you right now."

"I'd—" he swallows. "I'd like to think I was the nice-guy-next-door for you, excluding the...posh part."

Maia snorts, "Right. Don't think you can really be a part of that crowd when you were always wearing tie-dye shorts."

Oscar's eyes widen as a lopsided grin morphs onto his face. "Okay, I was probably, like, seven, so you need to chill with the insults."

The actress rolls her eyes with a grin of her own. "I was seven too and I can assure you my outfits were better than yours."

Oscar puts his head in his hands as he stifles a laugh, which makes Maia let loose a small giggle.

"I can't do anything around you, Mai."

"If you intend on seeing more of me after this flight then, you should start familiarizing yourself with that fact, Oscar."

Oscar.

He likes his name in her mouth, but he can't help but feel his heartstrings get tugged when he realizes that Maia hasn't called him Osc yet.

She used to call him that all the time, and, yeah, people call him it nowadays too, but it's different because it's her.

She used to always say it before giving him a light push for saying a stupid joke, or slip it into everyday conversation because that was just her name for him, and vaguely, there's a memory of another kid calling him by that nickname when he was in class without her, and he had told them that the name was just for Maia, since 'that's just how we work.'

Not anymore though.

Not anymore.

"'Seeing more of you'?" He echoes, lifting his head. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I figured you wouldn't leave me alone once I get off this plane, right?" She asks.

Oscar ha's, "So, I am off that texting ban, then."

She tilts her head in a so-so motion. "Sure, least I can do since you gave me a ride home."

He laughs at the comparison. "Right, because a flying in a private jet is comparable to letting me text you."

She throws her hand up defensively. "I'd say it's an even trade!"

Not in the slightest is it an even trade, but Oscar will take what he can get, even if it's just the ability to text her again.

He opens his phone briefly to look at the time.

Seven hours now until they land.

He wishes it was twenty-four instead.

NOTES!

going back to school today i might just start crying now

xoxo, cas