24 year old Olivia meets Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz at Spa Grand Prix. They become friends, but things quickly escalate and feelings become complicated. How does someone pick between two people they love?
I wake up peacefully, in no rush. My phone tells me it's 10 o'clock. Oh shit. If Charles is still here waiting for me, I'm going to make him late for qualifying. I get up and rush into his bedroom. Ok, at least he's not still in bed. All of a sudden the sound of a beautiful piano piece fills the apartment. I follow the sound to the living room, where Charles is sitting at the grand piano. He notices me enter and stops. "I'm sorry, I hope I didn't wake you up." I shake my head. "No, I was already up it's fine. And even if you had woken me up, that's not a bad way to do it. Waking up to classical piano. It's like a fairytale." His handsome face stretches into a smile.
I casually walk over to the couch and grab a cushion. Without giving him a warning, I start attacking Charles with the cushion. He laughs and defends himself by grabbing me. We both tumble into the floor in fits of laughter. I bring my hand to his face and brush away a strand of hair covering his eyes. "I can't believe you didn't wake me up sooner. You're going to be late for qualifying!" "I couldn't help it, you looked so peaceful and I didn't want to disturb you." I shake my head at him. "Charles, this is your home race. You could wake me up at 3am to cook you pasta and I would do it for you." I chuckle. He nods and kisses me quickly. "You're right. Ok let's go get dressed."
I check the weather before planning my outfit. It's sunny but with a breeze. I pull on my ripped jeans, a white tank top, and a green and blue cardigan.
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I brush my hair and secure it in a claw clip to keep it from blowing in the wind. I go to the kitchen and look around for the bagels. "Chaaaarles, where are the bagels?" I call. "In the shelf above the sink." he replies from his bathroom. I toast a bagel and smother it with strawberry jam. My go-to breakfast. "Can I make you anything?" "No it's fine, I'll eat before qualifying." he says as he walks in to the kitchen. His brown hair is in its usual messy style. He's wearing a tight, long sleeved Ferrari shirt for under his overalls and has his overalls on up to his waist. He has tied the arms around his hips to keep it from falling down, which I find quite clever.
"Ready to go?" he asks. I nod and we head out to his car. He puts on the radio. It's playing traitor by Olivia Rodrigo. "Oh my god, turn it up I love this song." I tell Charles. I belt the chorus and he laughs. "Who hurt you?" I look at him, dead serious. He stops laughing and looks concerned, and maybe a little bit scared. The corner of my mouth twitches and he sighs of relief. "I thought I had struck a nerve there." he says.
He pulls into the paddocks and we step out of the car. The place is full of reporters and journalists. Charles takes my hand in his. "Is this ok?" he gestures. I interlock our fingers and smile at him. "More than ok."
We walk into the paddocks, ignoring the reporters and cameras, and just enjoy the moment.
