Chapter Text
Isack could be overanalyzing the situation, but how exactly did she even get herself here to begin with?
Liam Lawson, her teammate, her friend, her very pretty and tragically straight friend was currently sitting an inch away from her in a dimly lit club somewhere deep in the streets of Monaco. The music was pounding through the floorboards, a mix of bass and laughter and the occasional glass clinking against another. The entire team was there, scattered across the place, half-drunk and high on the euphoria of a double-points finish. And yet, somehow, amid all that noise Isack found herself painfully aware of only one thing: Liam’s hand resting on her thigh.
The warmth of it seeped through the thin fabric of her jeans, grounding her and setting her pulse racing all at once.
Liam was laughing at something someone said, she wasn’t sure what. But her cheeks flushed and her smile blinding under the pulsing neon light. Isack tried to focus on the condensation running down her glass, on the chatter around her, on anything but the girl beside her. But Liam shifted, just slightly, inching closer until their shoulders brushed.
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So you inch a little closer,
Say your boyfriend, he wouldn’t mind.
You think that I'd be flattered
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The words of the song playing over the club’s speakers felt a little too on the nose. Isack almost laughed, except there was nothing funny about the situation she’s in or the way her heart stuttered. Liam wasn’t even looking at her. She was still grinning at someone across the table but her thumb was tracing small circles on Isack’s thigh now, mindlessly, like muscle memory.
Isack swallowed hard. She told herself it didn’t mean anything. That Liam was just touchy when she drank. That she was imagining it.
Except Liam turned to her. Fully turned and said over the noise, “You look good tonight.”
Her tone was casual, her eyes were not.
Isack blinked. “Merci. But you’re a bit wrecked right now, non?” Her gaze flickered down to the hand still resting on her thigh.
“Maybe,” Liam said, leaning in until her breath brushed Isack’s ear. “But my boyfriend’s not here, so I don’t think he’d mind.”
And there it was.
The club felt smaller suddenly. Hotter. Unbreathable.
Isack should’ve pulled away. She knew better than anyone that taking a straight girl to bed was nothing but trouble. It always started the same way: a few too many drinks, too much laughter. And then morning came, and all that was left was awkward silence and regret. Or sometimes nothing at all. She swore she’d never do it again.
But then Liam leaned in close, voice warm and teasing against her ear. “Wanna head back to our hotel?”
It was barely a whisper but it tore through Isack like lightning. Her breath caught. She could smell the faint sweetness of champagne on Liam’s lips, could feel the heat radiating from her skin, and for a split second, she actually considered the offer.
It was so easy to say yes.
Especially when it was to her.
“Liam…” she started, though her voice came out a lot softer than she meant. Pathetic, she thought. But the way Liam was looking at her made it impossible to muster up anything besides a muffled whine. Those green eyes, unfocused, pulled her in like gravity.
She should’ve said no. She really should’ve.
God help her.
Isack was truly a weak woman.
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It's pathetic 'cause you're right
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They both ran through the streets of Monaco like teenagers sneaking out past curfew. Half-drunk on alcohol, half-drunk on each other. Their hands were clasped tight, fingers tangled like they’d done this a thousand times before.
Every few meters, Liam would pull her into another shadowed alleyway, pressing Isack up against the cool stone wall just to steal another kiss. It was frantic, messy, all teeth and laughter. Isack knew she should’ve stopped it, should’ve said enough but every time Liam’s mouth found hers again, she was nothing but stupid.
Oh my god, Liam Lawson was a good kisser. She tucked that knowledge into the very back of her mind. Sealed behind a dozen mental locks labeled never open again.
“Mon Dieu,” Isack whispered between kisses, breathless, voice barely more than a moan against Liam’s lips. “You’re going to get us caught.”
“Mm,” Liam murmured, grinning, “we should hurry back then.”
That made Isack laugh. A low, disbelieving sound that got swallowed between their mouths.
By the time they stumbled into Isack’s hotel room, both of them were flushed and panting, hair in disarray, clothes tugged half out of place. They barely managed to shut the door before Liam pushed Isack back against it, lips crashing into hers again. The impact sent a soft thud through the room, and Isack’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest.
She really should’ve stopped it then. She should’ve pulled away, should’ve reminded herself that Liam wasn’t into girls, that this was messy, that this could ruin everything they’d built between them. But instead, her hands found their way to Liam’s waist, fingers curling into her top to drag her closer.
They stumbled into the bedroom, still laughing, and flushed. For a moment, it almost felt real to Isack. Like this could become a routine. One that would last forever. Like it could just be them against the world. Oh, how Isack could only hope. Liam pressed close. Her lips finding Isack’s again, soft and urgent all at once, and Isack let herself melt against her, the night stretched endlessly around them, carrying them somewhere far and nowhere at all. In between dizzying reality and a dream she never wanted to wake from.
Later that night, Isack could feel Liam pressed up against her back, warm and close. Her breath steady against her skin. For a moment, she almost thought the blonde had fallen asleep, but then she felt her shift, pressing even closer to the nape of her neck, and Isack’s chest tightened. She held her breath, heart hammering in her chest.
“Isack… you’re so pretty. If only you were a man.”
The words hit her square in the guts. She could almost laugh at the irony of it all. How ridiculous, how cruelly unfair it felt that the girl she wanted most in the world could never, truly, be hers in the way her heart ached for.
And to her surprise, she couldn’t find it in herself to disagree with Liam either. If she were a man, maybe Liam would finally look at her the way she had always wanted. Full of raw affection, a love that didn’t carry any judgment or expectations. She imagined it. For just for a moment: Liam’s eyes soft and certain, hands brushing hers without hesitation, a closeness that didn’t need hiding. The fantasy burned in her chest, painful and sweet all at once.
Only when Liam finally let go and rolled to the opposite side of the bed, leaving her back to Isack, did she exhale, slow and uneven. The room was quiet again, but the echo of her words lingered, pressing against her ribs like it was trying to engrave itself into the marrow. Somewhere deep down, she knew nothing would ever be simple between them. But for now, she let herself linger in the warmth left behind, letting the ache of longing settle alongside the comfort of having Liam so impossibly near, if only like this, if only tonight.
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In the p.m., all the pretty girls
They have a couple drinks, all the pretty girls
So now they wanna kiss all the pretty girls
They got to have a taste of a pretty girl
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When the morning light filtered through the blinds, casting long slats of gold across the hotel room, Isack was the first to stir. She didn’t move immediately, simply letting her eyes open and drink in the sight before her. Liam lay sprawled across the bed, face turned toward her, hair tangled across her forehead, stray strands curling in different directions. The softness of the moment made Isack’s chest tighten; even in the mess of last night, Liam looked… at peace. Beautiful and pretty. Oh, so pretty.
Her gaze traced over every detail, lingering on the long eyelashes that fanned over flushed cheeks, the slightly parted lips, still dark pink and swollen from the kisses they’d shared and the faint, relaxed rise and fall of her chest. Isack felt heat rush to her face. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt her heart clench like this, simultaneously aching and soaring, for someone who might never, truly, be hers.
For a brief moment, Isack let herself indulge in the thought of reaching out. Just to smooth back the strands of hair falling over Liam’s face or trace her fingers along the gentle curve of her cheek. Memories of seeing Liam so tense during team meetings or around the paddock when she was dropped from the Red Bull second seat way back in Suzuka, rose in her mind. Her furrowed brows, her jaw set tight, the tension that never seemed to leave her even when she smiled. Isack had watched it all and quietly wished she could be the person Liam could reach out and help make it all better.
But here, in the soft golden morning, Liam was unguarded. Her features softened, her body relaxed and for Isack, it was intoxicating. She leaned forward, hand hovering over Liam’s face, almost daring herself to touch her. But then, a faint rustle, a groan muffled by sleep and the bed shifted slightly. Isack froze, her fingers retreating, eyes shutting instinctively as Liam stirred.
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In the a.m., all the pretty girls
Act like it never happened in another world
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She listened as the blonde blinked awake, slow and uncertain at first and then the quiet, panicked gasp that told Isack everything she needed to know. Movement followed and soon the bed dipped on the other side, the sound of hurried steps and shuffling clothes signaling that Liam was getting dressed. So, of course, she was running away. Typical. Expected.
Surely wasn’t Isack’s first rodeo.
Even knowing that, Isack felt her stomach twist, a dull ache that sat deep in her chest. She stayed frozen until the faint click of the hotel room door confirmed Liam had left, leaving the room eerily quiet. Only then did she sit up and finally take in the room itself: the sheets tossed and warm, Liam’s clothes gone, the lingering scent of the blonde still faintly in the air. Evidence that last night had been real. Evidence that Liam had been here, close, and that everything she’d felt, every moment shared, hadn’t been a dream.
Isack let out a slow breath, half resignation, half longing. She had known this would happen. She’d known it was naive to expect anything more than what had been but it didn’t make the pang any less painful. Liam had chosen to run away and there was nothing Isack could do. Nothing she should. It wasn’t her place to push, to demand explanations or confessions.
Liam might not have been in her right mind, but Isack knew she hadn’t been clueless either. She could pretend that nothing had happened, pretend that the haze of alcohol had blurred it all away but Isack knew better. Those words, “you’re so pretty, if only you were a man,” weren’t accidents. They were unmistakably truths. They did say alcohol made people more honest.
If Liam wanted to pretend that last night never happened, that the kisses meant nothing, that her words were empty and fleeting, then so be it. Isack was never one to press.
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Yeah, it's a blessing and it's a curse
So keep on pretending, pretty girl
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