𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐯𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐬 [charles leclerc]

chapitre cinque

       "How's the marriage hunt going?" A few minutes had passed and he could not control the words being spilled from his mouth anymore, accompanied with the devilish glint that had returned to his greenish eyes as Colette rolled hers at his unsolicited question.

       "How did the Grand Prix go?" She was rather quick to shoot back, a perfectly shaped, dark brow arched in anticipation.

       "Well played." Charles let himself chuckle at their banter he had gotten so used to over the past years. "You were at the race today." He did not question it, rather stating his thoughts out loud with some liquid courage.

       "You have been watching me?" Colette reciprocated with the very same words he had used the day prior to intimidate her. Now it was her time to cockily grin, circle the rim of her glass, and watch him squirm his way out of the words that have exposed him.

       "Mais non—of course not," He rapidly shook his head sideways as he diverted his eyes from her dark, almond shaped ones. "I just saw Fabian at the paddock before the race and assumed you were with him." He was lying so hard it became funny in Colette's eyes; she had not been with Fabian all day, nor was she present near the paddock before the race.

       "Sure—right." She smiled gracefully, a tease to his stammering and fumble of excuses. She enjoyed that position so dearly, and he knew that.

       "Je jure, I couldn't care less if you were there or not; I don't need you." Charles finally settled, his voice regaining its familiar rasp as he shook the nerves, he did know he had, off. It was when a grimace formed on her face that he knew he might have went too far with denying her claim.

       "Arrogant F1-driver." Colette mouthed the words as she pointed at him, her eyes gliding towards the impatient supporters as AS Monaco were going to tie with RC Lens with just four minutes of extra time on the clock.

       In fact he could not actually deny her claim as it was very much the truth, regardless of the words he had actually spoken. Earlier that day he had seen Colette and Pierre Gasly, friend to him as well, pass the Ferrari garage, an arm from the French driver slung over her shoulder. His attention had peaked from the dull debriefing he had no part in to the rapid French words being exchanged between the two, suddenly feeling even more confined in the pit box.

       "But you're not staying away," He had regained his confident attitude and found witty words to return his control over the conversation, at least in his experience. Either way, Colette regretted her determination of talking to the F1-driver as she failed yet again to keep her vexation aside. "Can I conclude you can't, or you don't want to?"

       "Va te faire foutre, Leclerc." She scoffed, her eyes still glued on the screen as the opposing RC Lens was getting dangerously close to the box in the last minute of the game. Colette knew he was smirking at her, perfectly envisioning the corners of his mouth lifted whilst siren eyes captivated her side profile.

       "I will go with the latter." Charles affirmed in a mumble, turning his red Ferrari cap backwards as a satisfied grin formed on his lips. He cheerfully sipped on his beverage as he had gotten under Colette's skin yet again—something she would never admit to.

       "Of course you are." The referee blew the whistle to announce the end and Colette shifted in her seat to face the delighted Charles Leclerc who had all forgotten about his sorrows from the awful weekend he has had.

       "Bien sûr, mon étoile." A soft smile graced his face, nudging her shoulder before looking at the barkeeper, ordering more drinks for the two of them. Colette was however stuck frozen for a moment due to the used nickname, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Surely it had been playful, not friendly—they did not do friendly, move from his part; he had been drinking excessively and most likely dismissed their long-standing discord with arguments and disagreements for the time being.

       Colette would lie if she said her head was not fuzzy either, occasionally showing her tipsiness with a slur in her usually eloquent speech. She had been well in to her umpteenth alcoholic beverage when Charles finally spoke up again, intoxicated as well but seemingly handeling it more properly than the girl in front of him. "It's the 24th."

       "I believe it is." Colette swiftly looked at her phone which had lit up with a few notifications, swiftly turning the 'do not disturb' mode on. It was minutes after midnight and her phone had been filled with messages. Her eyes trailed back to his as her fingers tensely danced over the coaster, a hazy glint in his green eyes as his vision started to blur from moment to moment.

       "It's your birthday." Charles collaborated.

"Just like last year, and the same day next year." Colette showed indifference to the situation and wondered why he of all people would mention that, let alone know this information. A frown appeared on her features as she sunk deeper into her thoughts. Her eyes only refocused on the man in front of her once he stopped her left hand from fidgeting around, his palm covering her fingers. The tenuous jolt she had felt subsided as he smiled comforting at her. A whirlwind of confusion and emotions crushed the drunken Blanchet girl as she did not dare to move away from his grasp first.

The intense meeting of the eyes. The lingering touch of intertwined fingers. His gaze shifting towards her lips.

"Bon anniversaire, Colette." Charles looked back into her eyes, maybe a tad too long or too deep if he were sober. Either were, however, far from it and Colette found herself staring back at him.

"Merci, Charles." She breathed out, heat surging to her tanned face due to their unexpected intimacy. But just like that their drunken story abruptly ended by a call from the best friend who had been profusely dialling her number. "Oui allo ?"