Charles didn't celebrate his first win at all. While I went home, he went to Maranello. He wanted me to come with him but I knew that Elliòtt would be furious if I missed the whole week when I was already going to miss Friday because of going to Monza. I really did feel bad about telling him I couldn't, but Elliòtt and I don't need more reasons to not agree with each other.
We talked every day. He told me we were invited to the funeral, two days after Monza, so I got to let Elliòtt know beforehand that I wouldn't be able to practice. There's no way he can get mad at me when letting him know in advance that I'm going to a funeral.
When he got to Monza on Wednesday, he sent me videos of the crowds outside the hotel and the track, just waiting for him or Seb to come out. It was crazy to see and I was just a tiny bit worried about having to be there amongst all of that, even if I wouldn't be the center of attention, I'd still feel trapped.
One day, Arthur, who had flown out to meet up with Charles on Tuesday to be there for most of the week, called me. I heard that he was around a larger crowd and he was hushing people around him.
"Hé, C, d'où vient ta... tenue de qualification hongroise?" Hey, C, where's your... Hungarian qualifying outfit from? he asks, and I furrow my brows in pure, complete confusion.
"Je ne sais même pas ce que je portais," I don't even know what I was wearing, I reply.
There's a beep against my ear and I notice he's calling me on facetime, so I reply and see him, smirking and trying to hold back laughs as he looks down onto me, then up at someone in front of him that I can't see, until he turns the phone to face a girl he was talking to who just looks embarrassed.
"Cosa indossava?" What was she wearing? he asks the girl.
"Quel top blu e gonna blu con fiorellini e un cardigan bianco," That blue top and blue skirt with little flowers and a white cardigan, she says and I start to remember the outfit, but I don't know where it's from, so I walk over to my closet.
I ended up looking where all the pieces were from and then Arthur explained that he had lost the bet against a fan and had to call me and ask about the outfit. Some fans proceeded to ask him if I was coming and he nodded, telling them I was going to be there on Thursday evening while I was still on Facetime with him.
Thursday afternoon, when Elliòtt and I had finished our practice, Lorenzo and I got into his car and we drove four hours to Monza. We got to the hotel and we managed to park the car properly, but when we were on our way inside, there were fans waiting outside for the drivers who immediately spotted us. Lorenzo put an arm around me and led me right into the lobby, not giving me any time to talk to anyone, and he probably wants to avoid getting in the middle of that.
I got a card to Charles' room that he had left for me in the reception, and then I went up. The room was larger this time and it was higher up, making sure I could see the track even better from here. I had only been there for five minutes and I was looking out at the track, sending a photo to my mom, when Charles walked in. He dropped a bag on the floor and said goodnight to Andrea before turning to me with a warm smile.
"Ma journée s'est tellement améliorée," My day just got so much better, he said as he held his arms out, walking up to me.
"Pourquoi? Avez-vous obtenu une augmentation?" Why? Did you get a raise? I asked before he captured me in a tight hug. He scoffed as he leaned his head back a little to look back at me. He keeps smiling as he scans over my face and then he finally leans down to actually kiss me. "Qu'est-ce que ça fait d'être un vainqueur de Grand Prix?" What is it like to be a Grand Prix winner?
"Ils me l'ont donné parce qu'ils se sentaient mal," They gave it to me because they felt bad, he replied, almost rolling his eyes. For a second I waited for him to tell me he was kidding, but he didn't. I stomped on his foot and gave him a serious look as he grunted from pain, bending down to put his hand around his aching foot. "Ne cassez pas ces, Ils ont besoin de travailler sur les pédales," Don't break these, they need to work on the pedals.
"Ne dis pas ça! tu as mérité cette victoire!" Don't say that! You deserved that win! I tell, holding a warning finger up to his face, but he just laughs, standing up straight. He laughs.
"D'accord, je suis désolé," Okay, I'm sorry, he snickers as he pulls me closer again, kissing me, again. I started to work his Ferrari shirt off his body, because even though I do like him in Ferrari, I like to have him off-duty.
There were some crazy, intense days. The first day, it was horribly hot out, so I was in linen shorts and a marine blue top and I put my hair up with a claw clip. I paired it with my pair of converse and we left for the paddock with Arthur, Andrea and Nicolas.
One of the craziest parts was the police having to escort us to the paddock parking area. It was so crowded that I was scared of hitting someone and there were basically people squeezed to the car. Luckily, I was in the middle seat with Arthur and Andrea on either side of me, so I imagined them as two walls.
Mia met up with us as soon as we stepped out of the car and she told me that it would be a good idea for me to practice my media presence there, but I wasn't that onboard, considering the crowds went ballistic when the Ferrari drivers approached.
I did, however, end up talking to people, as Arthur pulled me with him. They took some photos, they asked what I had done all summer, but most of the questions got blurred into other questions and I couldn't hear single people talking. They all just tried to talk at the same time and I just got heard less and less until Arthur pulled me with him to move on, where the same thing ended up happening.
We finally got inside and there were cameras everywhere. There's always a lot of cameras, but they were everywhere and they were all following us as we walked further into the paddock, which just made me want to stay and wait until Charles and the photographers were gone before walking. But sweet angel Arthur came into play and noticed I wasn't comfortable, creating some distance between us and the majority of the photographers, even though some of them took the opportunity to get pictures of Arthur and I and still followed us rather than Charles. Arthur did tell them to stop and back off a bit and I was very thankful that they did.
Evie was stuck in Belgium after the whole thing that happened last week and Max had arrived late for the same reason. Because she wasn't there, I spent my days by Arthur's side. He even helped me work on this whole camera thing.
I was embarrassed about still not being comfortable and used to it, and I told Arthur that I didn't want it to be like that, and he helped me every chance he got. When there were cameras snapping photos of us, he told me to smile. When the TV camera was on us and we could see ourselves on the screen, wave. I looked away a lot, feeling all awkward, and I was petrified when my mom sent me a video of her and dad on the sofa at home, watching on TV as Arthur took my hand and waved at the camera when it was on us.
Charles was the fastest in both the first sessions and his energy was on top, considering he just lost a friend a week ago, but it was nice to see him bounce back so quickly. He was smiling, waving at the Tifosi that was loud and supportive, he was having a good time overall.
When we got back after the first day, I came across some criticism of my outfit. There were pictures of me walking in next to Arthur, behind Charles, and they were talking about my choice of clothing, just like I've seen them do with the wags that walk in. They were saying how they 'appreciated my tanned, long, legs moment, but they expected more' and I made a mental note to actually try to do something more extra for the next day.
So on Saturday, when I was getting dressed, I kept in mind that people were expecting me to wear something more fun. But then Charles came and told me if I wanted to do a hot lap, because he'd gotten the opportunity to bring someone on a hot lap for the Ferrari youtube channel. Seb had asked Arthur to go with him, because his wife wasn't here. For some reason, I agreed to go around in a road car at super speed around one of the fastest tracks. But before I agreed it was a lot of talk about it.
"Absolument pas," Absolutely not, was my first answer.
"Allez, Cece, pourquoi pas?" Come on, Cece, why not?
"Es-tu fou?!" Are you insane?!
"Tu l'as dit toi-même, je suis un super pilote," You've said it yourself, I'm a great driver.
"Quand c'est une voiture de course et que tu es seul dedans! j'aurais trop peur," When it's a racing car and you're alone in it! I would be too scared.
"Et si Seb conduisait et que j'emmenais Arthur?" What if Seb was driving and I took Arthur?
And when I agreed to that he scoffed and got all offended. But I would feel like if I asked Seb to take it easy, he would take it easy, while Charles might completely ignore that. Then I decided I needed to wear pants. I chose blue jeans and a light green top with some cute flares around my arms and I let my hair stay down. It was some more color, and I didn't want to seem too overdressed either.
We went to the track, it was the same story again. We met up with Seb and I told him to not kill me during the hot lap. He promised he wouldn't. Arthur and I were getting ready to get into the cars, putting on some big ass helmets and then they put microphones on us.
As we got into the car, I kept asking Seb to not drive too quickly and he just laughed. Charles and Arthur went first and I saw how Charles just sped off. Seb saw the look on my face and laughed harder.
"Are you ready?" He asked me and I shook my head.
"No," I replied, still shaking my head.
"Are you ready?" He asked again and I kept shaking my head as he drove away, pedal to the floor, causing pressure to my chest and my head was pushed back to the back of the seat. I tried my best to keep steady in the turns, but Seb was ruthless. "You probably wish you went with Charles now, don't you?" He laughed after a few corners of pain.
"Yeah, I can shout at him without feeling guilty!" I said back when we finally got to the long straight right before turn eight. Well, we were pretty much shouting at each other and I held onto my seat as tightly as I could, slowly relaxing after turn eleven, thinking we were close to the finish line, but Seb passed it instead of stopping.
"Now you've tried one lap, you can relax this lap," Seb told me before speeding off again, only slowing down when we got to turn one and two, where I felt like I was thrown back and forth.
But I did relax a bit more that lap, only tensing up when I waited for him to slow down in the corners a lot more than he actually did, but we didn't crash or anything so I guess he knows what he's doing and all of that, and when I got back my legs were shaking to the point I was struggling to stand up. But Charles was there to help me and he kept insisting that he was right about it being fun and I just scoffed as he helped me take my helmet off.
The third practice he was only fourth quickest, but it was fine, because for qualifying he grabbed another pole. He got a pole in Monza in his first year of Ferrari and he was so, so happy about it. He did all of his media with the biggest smile on his face and after he was done with everything in the paddock, he looked like he wanted to skip out of the paddock like a kid. Maybe he could get a win and feel like he deserved it. In front of the Tifosi too.
Once again, people didn't like my outfit. It was still plain and 'it really wasn't my vibe' according to people on the internet who have never met me. But for some reason I let it get to me and after a relaxing bath with Charles in the jacuzzi on the roof of the hotel, I went down to our room and on my robe I was digging through my suitcase.
"Allez, on va prendre une douche," Come on, let's take a shower, Charles said from the doorway into the bathroom. He had left his robe open and he was showing his chest, which made me want to drop everything and run into the shower.
"Une minute," One minute, I told him as I laid some of the clothes out in front of me. But Charles apparently didn't like that answer and he walked up to me, standing behind me and looking at the clothes over my shoulder.
"Que fais-tu?" What are you doing?
"Je choisis des vêtements pour demain," I'm choosing clothes for tomorrow, I admitted quietly.
"D'accord... Pourquoi ne fais-tu pas ça demain?" Okay... why don't you do that tomorrow? he asked, planting a soft kiss on my cheek.
"Je veux que ça ait l'air assemblé et je ne veux pas simplement jeter quelque chose demain," I want it to look put together and I don't want to just throw something on tomorrow, I sighed and in the corner of my eye I see him moving to the side of me and he has his eyes fixed on me.
"Nous en avons parlé, vous n'avez pas à vous soucier des commentaires stupides sur Internet... si vous voulez porter quelque chose alors-" We talked about it, you don't have to worry about stupid comments on the internet...if you want to wear something then-
"Je veux porter quelque chose de spécial, Charles, c'est ça," I want to wear something special, Charles, that's it, I cut him off before I grabbed the clothes in front of me and shove them back into the suitcase. I heard him sighing and he pulled me away from the suitcase, making me face him before putting his hands on the sides of my face.
"Tu pourrais porter un pyjama à la course pour tout ce qui compte pour moi," You could wear pajamas to the race for all I care, he said softly and I just sighed as I met his eyes. I don't need him to know that I care about what people say about me, but I still want to find something nice without him being on my ass about it. "C'est Monza... c'est spécial... et si vous gagnez?" It's Monza... it's special... and what if you win? I listed some reasons at the top of my head.
"Tu n'as pas à t'habiller pour moi," You don't have to dress for me, he shook his head.
"Je ne suis pas! Je dis juste que je veux me sentir un peu plus jolie pour une course spéciale," I'm not! I'm just saying I wanna feel a little prettier for a special race.
He sighed and then dropped his hands to my shoulders. Then he started backing up, pulling me with him as a smirk grew on his face.
"Je t'aiderai à choisir quelque chose... si on se douche d'abord," I'll help you pick something out... if we shower first, he said and I scoff, but I don't fight it. I just followed him into the bathroom.
We got into the shower and when we finally got out of there, I put a few options out for him to choose between. He asked me to try all the options out for him and I sighed but I still agreed to it. It was difficult putting outfits together with the few clothes I'd brought, since I didn't think I'd be dressing up. The only thing I have that is more dressed up is the dress I'm wearing to the funeral and it's not like I'll be wearing that.
My frustration was coming through as I almost threw my shorts out the window. Charles got up from the bed and he came up to me, sitting me down on the bed while he kept standing in front of me and he held onto my hands.
"Je t'ai déjà dit que je me fiche de ce que tu portes," I already told you that I don't care what you wear, he said and I was about to speak but he cut me off, "Et peu importe ce que les gens disent sur Internet," And it doesn't matter what people say on the internet.
"Je t'ai déjà dit que ce n'est pas ça," I already told you that's not it, I shook my head.
"Oui tu dis ça..." Yes you say that... he said, telling me he didn't believe me, "Mais normalement, vous ne vous souciez pas de cela, alors pourquoi est-ce si important?" But you don't normally care about that, so why is it so important?
"Ce n'est pas," It's not, I was quick to shake my head. I stood up again, starting to put the clothes away as if it didn't really matter. Charles sighed again, climbing into bed and waiting for me to join him. When I did, he laid on his side, keeping his head up with his hand so he could look down at me. He shook his head and I knew then that he wouldn't let the conversation be over.
"Je te trouve jolie en tout," I think you are pretty in everything, he said, whispering in the dark.
"Tu as des sentiments pour moi, la chimie de ton cerveau est altérée," You have feelings for me, your brain chemistry is altered, I chuckled.
"Des sentiments pour toi?" Feelings for you? he laughs in my face as if it was joke of the fucking season for him, "Céline je suis amoureux de toi," Céline I am in love with you.
He said it so easily and everything in my upper body clenched before making it difficult for me to even contain the happiness. I didn't say anything, because I was overwhelmed by the love I was feeling and his face was right in front of me, so I had to kiss him. I grabbed his neck and I pulled him down so he'd keep kissing me.
God, I love kissing him.
The next morning, race day, I had, despite Charles' attempt of pep-talk, been overthinking enough to have an outfit in my head. It would probably make me cry if it didn't look good when I finally put it on, but luckily, it worked.
I put on a pair of red and white checkered, high waisted shorts. I paired it with a white, cropped t-shirt with buttons in the middle and a collar. I left the top buttons open and I paired the outfit with white shoes, a red bandana with two strands hanging out in the front, and then a red purse that I borrowed from Isa, who arrived the night before.
Charles had told me I looked great and I felt kind of okay with the way I looked. When we got down to the lobby to meet up with Arthur, Andrea and Nicolas, Arthur also told me that I looked good. Well, he said I looked like I had tried for once, and that's a win in itself.
We got to the paddock, we talked to fans, we were swarmed with photographers like always, and then we watched Charles get ready for the race. I spent some time with Isa before the race, I watched the planes paint the sky in the Italian flag and the drivers stood for the national anthem and then I sat down in the box as the race started.
Charles got another good start, but there was some incident with four of the cars, one of them being Max. His head isn't quite in the game after this whole incident with his family, which is understandable. Seb was chasing Bottas for third, but lost the car in the Ascari corner and spun. He hit Lance when he rejoined the track, which gave him a ten second stop and go time penalty, which made him come out last. I just felt so bad for him as I heard him on the radio.
Lewis was chasing Charles for the lead, Mercedes pitted Lewis first but Charles managed to get out on track fractions before Lewis. When they later came wheel to wheel, Charles made Lewis go wide and he lost time, which gave Charles a black and white flag for pushing him off the track. Charles passes Daniel, giving him P2 back, but Hamilton also passes Daniel. Charles got the lead back when Valtteri pitted.
The gap got smaller and smaller between them and I'm pinching Arthur over and over when I saw the time between them go down. Charles accidentally makes a mistake, locking up into the first chicane and damaging his tyres as he went over the kerbs. I'm barely breathing, refusing to look. But it's not long until Lewis locks up and goes off track to avoid getting hit by Bottas.
It buys Charles some time when Bottas makes a mistake, which makes him far enough back that Bottas can't use DRS for the entire lap. Lewis pitted again, Bottas lost time when he went wide, he lost time in the straights, and then we hear it... 'Mercedes threw everything at him today, Charles Leclerc has coped brilliantly, he won in Spa, he wins in Monza! Charles Leclerc is the winner of the 2019 Italian Grand Prix!'
Arthur and I threw ourselves at each other as Charles just got his first two wins back to back. He won in Monza, Ferrari's homerace. He was the one to win Ferrari's home race with Ferrari for the first time since 2010. We heard him shouting and celebrating on the radio and then I just threw the headphones off as Arthur pulled me with him, running to celebrate as Charles got out of the car.
He got out, he ran to the team and then he came to Arthur and I, hugging us both so tightly as he kept shouting from happiness. He took his helmet off and came back to give us proper hugs that didn't hurt our heads with his helmet, and he dared to even give me a kiss on the cheek, despite the many, many cameras on him.
We were in the front, cheering him on as we watched him on the podium, the red sea going on behind us with the Tifosi going ballistic.
Charles got to celebrate this win, so he made sure to do it. And I didn't care about the stupid fucking outfit I worried so much about...
But they did like it... a lot.