The cat
Summary: After Oscar had a bad race, he just wanted some quiet and peace. What he didn't expect was to run into a girl carrying a cup full of....bacon? What he even expected less was that the girl is the sister of a driver.
Oscar didn’t slam the door of his driver room, but he definitely closed it harder than usual. His pulse was still thundering under his ribs, adrenaline lingering from the race that had ended far too early for him. Not even the hot frustration had faded yet — the moment when the car simply died under him, the engine cutting out as though someone had flipped a switch. No warning. No explanation. No chance to fight for the points he desperately needed.
He’d barely made it back before the engineers came swarming to ask questions. He knew they had to, but he couldn’t do it today. Not with the frustration sitting so thick in his chest that he felt suffocated.
So instead of waiting around, he ripped open his race suit, changed quickly into his team shirt and jeans, shoved his phone into his pocket, and slipped out.
No one even looked his way. Everyone’s attention was glued to the screens showing the ongoing race.
Perfect.
He walked fast, head down, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He needed air. He needed something that didn’t smell like fuel or sweat or disappointment.
But as he turned a corner between hospitality units, he collided with something soft.
Or… someone soft.
“Woah—!”
A gasp, the shuffle of shoes against the pavement, and then—
A cup.
A very full cup.
A cup completely full of bacon.
A slice wobbled dangerously at the edge before the person grabbed the cup with both hands.
Oscar blinked. “Uh…”
The girl standing in front of him was beautiful — young, maybe twenty, bright-eyed despite nearly dropping her… breakfast? Snack? Entire meal of bacon?
She quickly looked around, almost panicked, and mumbled, “No, no, not here…”
Oscar stared. “Is that… bacon?”
She shot him a raised eyebrow and an expression that whispered don’t start. But she didn’t answer. Instead, she scanned the paddock again, searching for something.
Oscar instinctively took a half step closer. “Why are you—”
Before he could finish, she grabbed his wrist.
“Come on.”
“What— hey—?” He stumbled after her as she sped toward a cluster of motorhomes, past a stack of tires, and into a narrow shaded area behind a storage tent.
And then Oscar understood.
Because lying there, in the shade, on a folded piece of cardboard, was a cat.
A beautiful grey cat with silver-tipped fur and wide green eyes.
The cat perked up immediately when it saw the girl, tail flicking, ears lifting.
“There you are,” she whispered softly as she crouched down. “Sorry I took so long.”
Oscar froze.
“…You’re feeding bacon to a cat?”
“It likes bacon,” she whispered back, as if this were classified information.
The cat pushed its head into her hand, purring loudly.
Oscar, staring in both confusion and awe, muttered, “Right. Of course it does.”
She broke a piece of bacon and fed it to the cat. The animal nearly swallowed it whole.
Oscar hesitated, then sank down beside her. Every muscle in his body finally loosened for the first time that day.
“Can I…?” he asked quietly, nodding toward the bacon cup.
She handed him a piece without looking. “Go ahead.”
He held it out. The cat sniffed his fingers, hesitated… then ate it gently.
Oscar exhaled. “Okay, that’s actually adorable.”
A tiny smile tugged at her lips. “She’s picky with people. You should be honored.”
“Oh, I am,” he joked softly. “This is the highlight of my day.”
She paused her petting and glanced sideways at him.
“I, uh… sorry about your race.”
Oscar swallowed. “Yeah. Today wasn’t great.”
“You okay?”
He looked at her — really looked — and saw genuine concern. Not the press version. Not the team version. Not the performance-analysis version.
Just human concern.
“…I think so,” he said quietly. “Or I will be. Eventually.”
She nodded and continued stroking the cat. “Sometimes things just… break. No warning.”
Oscar huffed a soft laugh. “Yeah. That sums it up.”
They fell into a gentle silence broken only by purring and the soft rustle of bacon.
After a minute, she finally said, “I’m Yn.”
“Oscar.”
“I know,” she smiled.
He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Oh? Do you have a list of drivers you give bacon to?”
“No. Just this one.” She scratched the cat’s chin. “And now you, I guess.”
He grinned — the first honest one he’d managed today.
“Yn, you’re quite mysterious,” he said.
“I’m feeding a cat bacon behind a tent,” she replied. “I don’t think that’s mysterious. I think that’s just weird.”
“A weird good,” Oscar said. “A weird that saved my day.”
Her cheeks flushed a soft pink.
They sat there for a while — ten minutes, then twenty, then an hour — talking about everything and nothing. The cat curled up between them, occasionally stretching a paw onto Oscar’s leg or headbutting Yn’s hand.
Oscar didn’t rush the conversation. He didn’t need to. For the first time all weekend, time wasn’t his enemy.
“So,” he asked eventually, “what’s with the bacon? Why not cat food?”
“She doesn’t like it,” Yn replied simply. “I tried. Bacon works.”
Oscar nodded solemnly. “Understandable. I also prefer bacon to cat food.”
Yn giggled — light, sweet, genuine. The sound slid into his chest like sunlight.
He leaned back on his hands. “So. Tell me something else about you.”
“Something else?”
“Yeah. You seem interesting.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even know me.”
“Well, I know you’re nice to cats and run around with bacon cups. That seems like a solid foundation.”
She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Okay,” she said. “Hm… I love hummingbirds.”
“Hummingbirds?” Oscar repeated.
“Yes. They’re tiny but fast. Kind of magical.” She traced a circle on the cat’s fur. “And one time I pushed my brother into the pool because he stole my ice cream.”
Oscar laughed. “Was there a fight afterward?”
“Of course.” She grinned proudly. “I won.”
“I’m not surprised.”
She nudged him with her shoulder. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Tell me something nobody knows.”
Oscar pretended to think deeply. “I… learned Japanese in school.”
Yn blinked. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
She stared. “Say something.”
He whispered a soft phrase. Her eyes widened.
“That’s beautiful,” she murmured. “What did you say?”
“That feeding a cat bacon behind a tent is the best thing that’s happened to me today.”
She burst into a laugh that drew an involuntary smile from him.
“And,” he added, “I love red pepper.”
“Red pepper? Like… just red pepper?”
“Yes. It makes everything better.”
Even hours later, Yn teased him about that.
They talked about Australia, about hummingbirds in slow motion, about childhood pranks and favorite songs. They talked about nothing and yet everything. And through it all, the grey cat slept happily between them.
Eventually, Yn stood up and dusted off her knees.
“I should go,” she said reluctantly.
Oscar rose with her. “Will I… ever see you again?”
She paused.
It felt like the world held its breath.
“Yes,” she said brightly. “You will.”
“When?”
“The next time I visit my brother’s garage.”
Oscar frowned. “Your brother? Who’s your brother?”
Yn smiled — wide and amused.
“Carlos.”
Oscar’s brain short-circuited. “Carlos as in— Carlos?”
“Yep.”
“Carlos… Carlos?”
“Yes, Oscar,” she laughed, “Carlos.”
He stared at her.
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” She leaned in, kissed his cheek — soft, quick, warm — and whispered, “I can’t wait to see you again.”
Then she grabbed the empty bacon cup, called softly to the cat, and walked away, disappearing around the corner with a soft wave.
Oscar stood frozen.
The kiss still tingled on his cheek.
His heart was beating so fast he could hear it.
He sank onto the cardboard where the cat had rested. “Carlos’ sister,” he whispered, dazed. “Oh no.”
The cat returned for a moment, nudging his hand with its head before trotting after Yn. Oscar watched it go, still stunned.
“Carlos’ sister,” he repeated.
He didn’t know whether to panic or smile.
He ended up doing both.
♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤
In this house, we all love OP81
