Game on. | c.l & p.g x reader

Chapter one: Start Line

As they approached the group, Jacques leaned in. "Be nice. They're weird and British," he teased.

George turned, smiling. "Bonjour!"

"Guys, this is my sister. Y/n." Jacques introduced, rolling his eyes at his friend's awful pronunciation.

"Hey! I'm Lando, Jacques' teammate," Lando said, extending a hand.

"I know who you are," she laughed, shaking it. "Nice to meet you all."

Lando looked at her like he'd just been hit in the chest. She was charming. Effortless.

"I gotta go. Mum and Dad are nearly here. There's plenty for you to do," Jacques said, already peeling away.

"Cool. I'll grab a coffee or something," she nodded.

She wandered off, pretending to scroll her phone, not really paying attention , bumping straight into someone.

"Oh! Sorry!" She exclaimed.

"Y/n?" the voice came, surprised.

She looked up.

Charles.

He stared at her for a second, then grinned. "Holy shit. I didn't recognize you. You look... incredible."

"A decade will do that," she said with a smirk.

"I heard Jacques was bringing the whole family, but I never thought they'd actually convince you."

"My mum forced me."

"You getting coffee? I was just heading that way. We should catch up."

"Sure. Coffee stand's this way"

"No, no. That one's awful. Come to Ferrari. Way better."

"They're not going to let me into Ferrari wearing this," she said, tugging at the McLaren cap.

"You're with me. It's fine." He laughed, waving her on. "You've aged like fine wine, by the way." He winked at her with a level of confidence he didn't have at fifteen. The fame, money and that infamous mullet having a positive knock on effect to his ego.

"Stop," she said, though she clearly didn't hate hearing it.

Inside, she took off the cap. Charles grinned at her like it was a secret joke between them.

"What's your coffee of choice?" he asked.

"Just a black coffee. Very French of me, I know."

"No shame in that. Iced?"

"Iced? Black coffee?"

"Y/n, you haven't lived. Trust me."

She laughed. "Fine. Surprise me."

He ordered it quickly on his phone. She reached for her bag. "How much do I owe you?"

"Zero euros, zero cents."

"Charles."

"Hey, I invited you. And you would've ended up with overpriced bad coffee. I saved you."

"Well, thank you."

"So what are you doing these days?"

"I work for Jacques. I'm his marketing agent. So, you've got Jacques the F1 driver, and then you've got Jacques the celebrity. I run the personal side of his career."

"That's actually really cool."

"I love it. I get to travel, and it pays well. I'm trying to build his presence online. Make him more relatable, especially for the younger fans. The sports changing and girls are getting into F1 now more than ever, and if I can make him seem fun, likeable, maybe they'll pick him as their favourite driver and it's working."

"You should run my socials."

"I'm in Monaco all the time. We could definitely talk."

"You live in Monaco?"

"Kind of. I split time between Monaco and Milan."

"Milan?"

"Yeah. My ex was there. We were engaged... not anymore. But I kept the apartment. My family moved out there too when I did. I still love it."

Charles paused. "Someone let you walk away? Idiot."

"He was a huge idiot."

"You're still as amazing as I remember."

"You're still a sweetheart." Her phone buzzed. She checked the screen, smile fading. "That's my parents. I should go meet them. Thanks for the coffee."

"Wait." He stepped forward. "Take my number. Text me when you're back in Monaco. Let me take you to dinner."

"You're asking me on a date?" she said, eyebrows raised.

"I am."

"Wow. Bold." She passed him her phone. He typed in his number and texted himself.

"I'll text you," she promised, hugging him.

As she walked away, Pierre looked up, just in time to see her smile at Charles. That same smile he hadn't seen since they were kids.

And it still hit like a gut punch.

"Pierre!" Charles called out. "Guess what?"

Pierre walked over slowly. "What?"

Charles was grinning. "I win."

Pierre blinked. "Win what?"

"It only took twelve years, but I finally have a date with Y/n Auclair." Charles spoke proudly.

Something shifted behind Pierre's eyes. Just slightly.

"She lives part-time in Monaco. And Milan." Charles continued, too excited to realise what exactly he was saying.

Milan, Pierre's home.

He gave Charles a look. Cool and Even. But with something new but very familiar brewing underneath.

"Game on," Pierre said, patting his best friend's shoulder.

He turned and walked away without another word.

Charles stood still for a moment, watching him go.

Milan, of course. He should really think before speaking.

He exhaled, steadying himself.

Game on.