Texting Verstappen || A Max Verstappen Fanfic

Introduction.

Ally

"Mum, are there any leftovers I can give to Senna? He's hungry as per usual!" I yell at my mother who is currently upstairs, preparing for her lecture on Fine Arts.

It's true what they say about professors, genius knows no time. Especially not if your Emma Carling.

"I think we have some crumpets left, there by the breadbasket my love," she yells as she tramples down the staircase.

"I'm horribly late for my lecture, and you know how tedious it is, so I won't be back until late tonight, alright?" I absently nod whilst looking for those crumpets.

"Oh yes, and get yourself some supper or takeaways, just feed yourself before bed, I left some money by the counter. Be good, Ally. No weird stuff!"

And with that, my mum disappeared out the door. I looked at my Pitbull puppy, Senna, and sighed loudly. Since my dad passed six months ago, my mum became a cloudy mess. She only had her feet on the ground at work, but around the house, she was sky high in sorrow, and loneliness I presume. So I pulled myself up by the bootstraps, and I became her support system, and now we have a relationship any mother and daughter would be jealous of.

Being home alone is a normal day for me. It gives me time to Netflix and to waste my time on tumblr. Once you scroll on tumblr, there is no turning back. I open my laptop, set on the kitchen counter, and I read the article of the up and coming stars of racing.

Formula One racing was my dad's passion. Shortly before he died, he gave me a puppy, and called him Senna, the best formula one racing driver to ever live according to my dad. At that stage, I didn't think of it as a parting gift. Three months later, he was gone.

But I still follow all these websites on racing news. Even though I have no idea what it really means, I usually scope the sites for the hot drivers. Today they did a segment on the Red Bull team, and something catches my eye.

A young man, in full racing gear, is staring back at me from the screen, his blue eyes captivating. A slight smirk was captured around the corners of his mouth. I lift Senna up and mockingly show him the picture.

"He's handsome, isn't he boy?" I laugh as Senna paws the keyboard, making my laptop return to the desktop.

I glance at my watch, and see the time is 3:17 pm. I still have to get to Holland Park and jog aaaand be done by 4 pm. Because efficiency and stuff.

"Come on Senna, love, let's go run and get some food. I'll get us pizza." I say to my beautiful puppy. For a moment his eyes lit up when he heard the word pizza. I so definitely raised this dog right.

Quickly forgetting of the blue-eyed racing driver, I changed into my jogging tights, with a Nike crop top, and of course my Nike Lunarglides. I grab Senna's leash, my handbag and my car keys before I head out with Senna.

Holland Park was just a few blocks away from my house, so the drive was quick, and silent, as usual.

I clip Senna's leash to his collar, and put my earphones on. I put my iPod on shuffle, because I felt like living dangerously, in a non-dangerous way. The first song to play was "Don't wanna Know" of Maroon 5.

I started to jog with my puppy eagerly at my side. I listened to the song lyrics, and laughed. With a pitbull, nobody is taking me home, Adam Levine. It sucks, but people are afraid of pitbulls, even if it's a puppy. And I'm not giving up my dog, so I will probably be a loner in public forever.

Just as I'm rounding the corner of the pathway, I collide with what seems like a brick wall.

A warm brick wall. A very human-y brick wall.

I loose my balance, and topple over backwards. The brick wall stumbles over Senna, accidently steps on his paw, and falls sideways.

In a mix of dog wails, ouches, and sorries, I'm captivated by those blue eyes.

It's him, isn't it?