Apex | Charles Leclerc

Chapter 71

I trailed behind them as they walked towards the kitchen, talking animatedly about Rush which was conveniently one of Paul's favorite movies. That certainly went well with Max.

Speaking of, Max was standing beside Eve in the kitchen while Gabby watched the two of them from the small breakfast nook they had. "Are we switching careers?" I teased, taking a seat beside Gabby.

Max glared at me before smoothing down the purple apron he was wearing. "Don't be surprised if your food has poison in it." He smiled sarcastically at me, Eve laughing behind him.

"He looks adorable, doesn't he?" She said, patting Max's shoulder before returning to the pots she had on the stove.

"Your definition of adorable is questionable." Gabby told her mom and I caught Charles' eyes as they widened, gaze moving between me and Gabby. "Why is Charles glitching?" She asked when she noticed the expression on his face.

I couldn't help but snicker. "I said the same thing earlier."

"Independently, you two are already scary." Charles said, shaking his head.

"Together, you're a nightmare." Max finished for him, cleaning up the dishes he and Eve didn't need anymore. A flash went off and we all looked at Charles who had his phone trained on Max. "Hey! You better delete that."

"I'm posting this on Instagram if you win next week."

"When I win." Max corrected him, pointing a dirty spatula at Charles who scoffed in return.

"Yeah, let's see about that."

Dinner was fantastic. It was unfortunate Gabby didn't inherit Eve's cooking skills because we would've had better food back when we began hanging out. The two were like carbon copies, having the same blonde hair and doe eyes. The only difference was their personalities, which Gabby evidently got from Paul. The man was just as witty and fiery as her.

Charles and I were sleeping in the guest bedroom downstairs while Max and Gabby occupied her old room. The night ended with everyome except me retreating to their rooms while I decided to finish the night with another glass of wine and a book that I brought for the trip.

"You're not sleeping yet?" Charles asked as he walked into the living room wearing a black shirt and sweatpants. I lightly shook my head, expecting him to turn back and return to our room, but he walked towards me instead. "What are we reading for tonight?" He asked, lightly pushing my back so that I'd make some space for him on the couch.

"We?" I asked, my smile only widening when I noticed him copy my position– legs bent and feet over the sofa– but he made some space for me to sit in front of him.

"I'm trying to live up to my new personality of being a bookworm."

"I don't think I've ever seen you finish a book that has more than a hundred pages." I smirked and Charles pinched my side, making me yelp.

"This will be first, then." He replied. "Now, turn around and let me read." I followed his instructions, noting how we were in the same position two years ago when he brought me to that cafe in Hungary.

I read faster than he did and naturally, he grew frustrated every time I was about to flip the page. It ended up with him grabbing the book from me so that he could turn the page when he was done, allowing me to sink into his warmth, my hand drawing small circles by his knee. My head was leaning back on his shoulder and at that moment, I could definitely say that this was the most relaxed I've been in months.

There's just something so mundane about it, as if the accident didn't happen and we were just stuck inside this little bubble we made for ourselves. Charles is still himself, but there are new parts of him that have swam towards the surface. He's not as confident as he was before and I think the fear of driving an F1 car still lingers in his bones. I just hope that with any memory he regains, he'll get back a piece of himself that I will never be able to help him with. When it comes to the memories he had with me, I could definitely show him or talk about it endlessly. But when it comes to the sport he loves? Deep down, I knew that the only person who could help him is himself.