One Shots - Formula 1 [REQUESTS CLOSED]

Surprising encounters - Pierre Gasly

Just got this idea and I needed to write it down :)

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"Quite a pretty thing you got there."

You turned around when you heard the voice of a young man. His eyes scanning appreciatively your body up and down made you believe he wasn't talking about the bright white Aston Martin. This disgusted you.

You always thought you wouldn't do this kind of job. Being exposed as a doll to sell cars was definitely something you never thought you'd do. You don't consider yourself as an engaged feminist, but still. You were more than a body and a face. But when you saw the offer of being a hostess for the Paris Motor Show, you were in deep need of money. Your studies were expensive like hell and you had to make a loan at the bank that you struggled to reimburse. So this was an opportunity you couldn't refuse.

There you were, in a tight black dress, hugging your good curves and displaying your cleavage and long tanned legs. The high heels were killing you already, and it was just the first day. You didn't have much to do, except stand next to a sports car that was worth more than 200 000 euros, smile and pose for pictures.

"Yes, the car looks great." You answered politely. Working for a famous sports brand, the stand was private, meaning people could stare at the car from afar but not get close to it. And it was the same for you, which you gladly accepted. Who knows how violent you would react if a man found it funny to touch your butt. Only guests were able to enter the Aston Martin stand, which meant investors, good clients, rich people, and celebrities. It didn't take long for you to place this man into one of this categories.

"I wasn't talking about the car." He answered with a smirk, staring at your body once again. God, how could that guy be so arrogant? It couldn't surprise you coming from an old rich man, but coming from someone your age, it was even more awkward.

"You should. I'm sure one of our sellers could talk to you more about it."

"Can't you?"

"I'm not qualified for that."

"Oh right, I forgot. Women don't know anything about cars."

"You should be careful what you say, monsieur Gasly." You kept your ton professional. "Though it was great, you only did one complete season in Formula 1. You can be pushed out as quickly as you came in. Going from Toro Rosso to Red Bull is a great move, but everything will be heightened. The pressure, the attention, and the scandals. I'm not sure Christian Horner would like it if you found yourself in justice for sexual harassment."

His face was losing its colours all the more you talked. You finished your sentence by standing close to him to show that he didn't intimidate you at all. Now, he was the one being embarrassed. For sure he didn't think you knew who he was.

"You know who I am?" His voice was weak as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I do. Racing fast cars and earning a lot of money don't give you the right to act arrogant. I kinda liked you as a driver, too bad you had to ruin it all with your bad personality." You shrugged.

"I guess I have to apologize."

"You're right, you should."

"Excuse me for acting like a prick. My childhood friends keep telling me I've changed recently. Maybe they're right. I didn't use to be like that."

Your face softened at his words. You didn't pity him, of course not, but he showed a vulnerability that made him likable, contrarily to his arrogant side.

"You should find that old you again, then."

"I will. What time do you finish your shift?"

You raised an eyebrow. Was he doing this on purpose? Was this what he thought a good way to change his personality?

"I don't mean it like that!" He quickly added once he saw your face. "I want to offer you a dinner to make up for how I acted."

You thought about it for a few seconds. The first sight you got of Pierre was terrible, but what he was showing you from himself these past few minutes was interesting. This was a long and awful day, you were alone here in Paris and you were not in a hurry to join the dreadful hotel you were staying in.

"A drink. I could use some alcohol after today. 9pm here."

Pierre nodded and you left him to find your spot back next to the Aston Martin.

"You didn't tell me your name!" He called.

"Maybe I'll tell you tonight."

You saw him shake his head and chuckling before leaving the stand.

A few hours later, the Paris Motor Show closed its doors and you could finally stop smiling so much. You joined the other hostesses in the changing rooms to take this uncomfortable dress off and put on some jeans, a blouse and a black leather jacket with some sneakers. This was more your style.

Pierre was waiting for you at the point of rendezvous. He drove you to a bar he used to go to and you started chatting over a cocktail. You found him way more interesting than what you thought he would be. The arrogant mask he wore when you met quickly vanished. He asked you about your studies and he told you about Formula 1.

"You still didn't give me your name." He leaned on the table you were sat on, both your glasses empty.

"Why do you need it?"

"How am I supposed to call you next time I see you? I don't think you're the kind of girl that likes pet names."

"Will we see each other again?" You didn't know he would want to keep in touch. You just thought he wanted some company for the evening and liked you enough to pay for your drink.

"Don't you want to?"

"Don't you have a busy life?"

"We could start answering each other and not asking more questions." He laughed. God, that laugh was music to your ears. You discovered Pierre was a really funny guy. "I'm having a great time and I don't want this evening to end. So, I would really like to see you again."

You nodded. The light in the bar was soft which made it intimate, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from his.

"I think I'd like that too."

You exchanged numbers and he finally got to know your name. He told you how much he liked it and you silently thought that you liked the way it sounded in his mouth.

You spent a lot of time texting each other. Actually, as soon as he left you at your hotel, you started texting, and you did that all night. You both had busy lives but you always seemed to find some time to talk to each other. Then you called. Once a week, then at least an hour every day.

When he invited you to a Grand Prix, a few weeks after your encounter in Paris, you hesitated, not sure you would fit into his world. But all your insecurities vanished when he kissed you for the first time, under the lights of Abu Dhabi.