He holds me in his big arms, drunk, and I am seeing stars; this is all I think of.

You shouldn't even be here, and yet, sitting with Mark in a dimly lit restaurant felt right. You were an apprentice, trying to learn the ropes and be helpful in the world of F1. And who was better at showing you how to be cunning and clever when guiding your future clients? What you didn't expect was to share summer nights and secret kisses. Following along like a lost puppy and clinging to him when you two were alone.

Mark's hand rests on the table, neat whiskey in his tumbler, while the other rests high up on your thigh under the table. He was revising some papers you needed to fill out, reading over the contract deals. When you annotate something on a sticky note with a pen, he sighs. "No, honey." You give him a questioning look, confused. Mark sips on the whiskey and smiles over at you. "Don't give me that look. You know what you need to check," He says softly, patting your thigh under the table cloth.