Adrenaline: A Lestappen Story

𝟐𝟒.𝟐 - 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

"You can't even be with him," she cried, hands pressed against the table. "What are you planning? Announcing to the world that you're involved with Charles Leclerc?" She closed her eyes, a few tears escaping. "If I wanted, I could ruin both of your careers by telling everyone... but I won't, Max," she confessed, turning to face him. "You might not love me, but I love you."
Max stood in silence, understanding that any words he uttered would likely only fuel the escalating tension. He allowed Kelly to vent her frustrations, regretting what the impulsive offenses he had spat at her.

"You're everything to Penelope," she whispered, reaching out to touch his chest. "You might not see what I see," she continued softly, her gaze fixed on his chest. "But I know what people want from you and how cruel they can be," she furrowed her eyebrows. "And I know you, Max," she added, looking up at him. "I know that if he starts to beat you in races, you won't be able to look at his face. You'll suffer with this."

"You don't know that," Max mumbled, creating distance between them. "I will be happy if he wins. If he wins, then he deserves it," he shrugged.

"Even if he wins the championship?" Kelly raised her eyebrows, stepping closer as she observed the impact of the question on Max's mind.
"Max, don't be foolish," she retorted. "You're thinking like a child, with unrealistic expectations. You're ignoring your nature, you know who you are."

Max narrowed his eyes, not letting himself easily fall into the insistent tone of her words.
"Max," she sighed in frustration, "do what you want, I won't keep making a fool of myself by begging you to see what I see," she added with a slow and calm voice. "But eventually you'll see I'm right," she took a deep breath. "And when that happens, I'll be waiting for you with open arms." She reached for his face, gently caressing his cheek with the back of her hand. "Because I forgive you. I know that no fling you choose to have will really matter. I know you'll always come back to me because you know I'll never abandon you," she said, withdrawing her touch. "I know you need me to hide this little... fling of yours, and I'll do my job," she crossed her arms. "As long as to everyone else, you pretend you love me, especially when Penelope is around."

Max found himself at a loss for words, grappling with the conflicting emotions stirred by Kelly's revelations. Though a part of him wanted to argue and insist that he could be content if Charles won the championship, deep down, he knew it wasn't entirely true. The prospect of losing the championship alone unsettled him, and if it were Charles, the complications in their relationship would undoubtedly surface. Moreover, as Kelly pointed out, he still needed her to manage any potential speculations. And Penelope... he loved her like his own, and letting go would be a painful ordeal for both of them.

Seating himself on the couch, Max appeared lost in contemplation, and Kelly followed, tapping his shoulder. "He is not the love of your life, Max," she commented, her hand resting on his shoulder. "No one is. You'll hate him when this ends up with you losing the championship. Love is not what you were made for; it'll never make you satisfied," she spoke, her hand slipping away as she walked past him toward the door. "Don't waste your whole life's purpose on some stupid love fling. You were made for winning; that's what makes you happy, and that's what you have to do," she added before leaving the blond racer alone in the cottage.

"You were not made for love."

The stark declaration hung in the air, and the possibility of truth beneath her words sent a shiver down Max's spine.

After she left, Max sat alone on the couch, the weight of Kelly's words settling heavily on his shoulders. The cottage felt emptier, as if the truth had carved a void within the familiar space. As the minutes ticked by, Max couldn't shake the unease that lingered in the room. The racing driver in him craved victory, the roar of the engine, the taste of triumph. Love had always seemed like a distant concept, elusive and complicated. He wondered whether that was what he was doomed to, did he have to choose one or the other?

After a couple of hours of contemplation, the blond decided to finally text Charles, sending him a text of reassurance regarding the past events: "She won't tell anyone, don't worry about that."

The incoming message from Max should have filled Charles with relief, but the topic at the forefront of his mind remained unsettled. Not long ago, he had asked Max a crucial question about their relationship amidst the competitive world of racing. The lack of a direct answer lingered in his thoughts. If winning indeed trumped all for Max, then perhaps distancing himself was the best course of action. The upcoming championship would inevitably lead to one of them losing, and Charles grappled with the idea of being a potential distraction rather than a genuine competitor.
"Thank you," he typed, expressing gratitude for Max's assurance. However, the weight of his thoughts led him to send a follow-up text once he was in the solitude of his room: "Can I still see you?"

As Charles grappled with the uncertainty and the weight of Kelly's words, he refused to succumb to despair. Determined to find a solution, he held onto the purity of his feelings for Max and sought a way to keep their emotions separate from racing.

"I'll be here another day, please let me know," Charles texted, the suspense weighing heavily on him as he anxiously awaited Max's response.
Max, in turn, suggested a discreet plan: "Do you want to go for a walk in the city? Cover yourself up as much as you can, and don't let anyone see you leaving. I can go by and pick you up. But I can't go into your hotel, and you can't come to the cottage anymore."

The proposal carried a sense of secrecy, a way for them to navigate the complications while keeping their connection alive. Charles considered the offer, a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty that clouded their future.

"I can be ready in thirty minutes. Be near the back, and I'll find you," he sent out. A small sting hit him at the knowledge that he was now banned from the small house that had brought confessions out of them. For a split moment, he had allowed himself a fantasy where the outside world hadn't existed.

Just you and me, let's pretend.