Crash

He'd Be Proud Of You

After the win, Penelope, Charles and the rest of the team partied for hours. By the end of the night, she was covered in champagne, her feet were aching and her dress was ripped, but she couldn't have cared less. It was the most fun she'd had in weeks, and in truth she didn't want it to end. 

She and Charles couldn't stop laughing as they stumbled down the hotel hallway, a feather boa around her neck and a pair of novelty glasses balanced in her hair. 

"Have you got the key?" Charles asked her, his words mumbled. 

"I thought you had it," Penelope giggled, the wall cold against her skin as he pushed her up against it. When he kissed her, he tasted like vodka. 

"Found it," he breathed, dangling the card in front of her. Penelope kissed him again as he unlocked the door, her legs tangled round his waist as he carried her inside. His fingers moved quickly as he pulled at her dress lifting it over her head as she unfastened his belt. Penelope gasped as he kissed her collarbone, lips soft against her skin. 

Charles looked her up and down with bright, hungry eyes. "You're so beautiful," he told her, his hands running against the tender skin of her waist. A stab of pain ran through her as his fingers grazed the bruising over her ribs, but she was too ecstatic to care. 

Penelope took his face in her hands, running her thumbs over his cheekbones as their eyes met. There was something so intimate about that moment, just the two of them completely besotted with each other, lost in their pocket of peace. "Kiss me," she whispered, her voice gentle. 

She didn't need to ask him again. He touched her like she was the only girl in the world, her eyes closing as she let him lift her again, carrying her through to the bedroom, the door closing behind them. 

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Penelope wasn't sure what time it was exactly, but she knew it was late. The only light came from the hall, a soft yellow glow creeping under the door. Charles was sprawled out across the bed, his head resting on her chest as she stroked his hair. His breathing was heavy, and she could tell he was beginning to drift in and out of consciousness. 

When he spoke, his words were slow. "I don't want you to go back to L.A."

Penelope bit her lip so hard she almost tasted blood. They were both too drunk to be having this conversation, but she couldn't deny that she didn't exactly want to go home, either. "You know I have to." 

"You could come to Monaco with me. There's already a draw of your things at my place." 

"I can't, baby. I have filming all week. If I don't go, Li won't give me time off for the weekend."

"I know. I just miss you."

Penelope's heart ached as she leant in to kiss his forehead. His eyes were closed, but he smiled. In his face, she could see those same similarities she'd noticed that time in Monaco, staring at the picture of his father he kept on his bedside. 

"Your dad would have been so proud of you today," she told him, brushing his hair back away from his face in a tender gesture. 

"You think so?" he said wistfully, his breathing getting slower as he grew closer to sleep. 

"Yeah. I think he's watching over you. One day he'll send you a sign."

Charles's brow furrowed slightly, but his eyes stayed closed. "He already did. He sent me you."

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Penelope knew it was silly of her to be crying in the cab to the airport, but no matter what she did, she couldn't stop. She'd said goodbye to Charles at the hotel, holding onto him for far too long, not wanting to let go. No matter what she tried to tell herself, the long distance was starting to get to her. She couldn't keep flying out to Monaco and he couldn't spend all his time in L.A., which meant that the only time they could see each other over the coming months was race weekends. 

Penelope was no stranger to having to work at relationships. Ever since she was a teenager she'd been dating actors or dancers who worked all over the world, but her schedule had never as busy as this. She had no flexibility and no time, and her career had to come first. She couldn't let herself get swept up in the romance. She loved Charles, of course she did, but she'd worked her ass off to achieve what she had. She couldn't throw it all away for a boyfriend. 

Still, as she sat in that car, staring at the window as the streets passed by, she couldn't help but wish things were different. She liked to play a game where she imagined they were normal people, with normal jobs and normal lives. She imagined they lived in a little house somewhere warm, owned a dog with a silly little name, maybe a few kids in a couple of years time. In this dream, they were just happy, without paparazzi or dance or acting or Formula 1. It was a stupid idea, but it made her feel less lost. Maybe they could never have that life, but perhaps they could have a version of it. And perhaps that was enough for now. 

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