Jolie Nana - [Pierre Gasly]

Veintíocho

"I'm going out for a run," Pierre announced as he made his way over to Farah, who was seated in front of her laptop. "Hmm, alright," Farah hummed in response, her eyes gliding over the document she was reading, she had an essay due at the end of the week, on Italian culture in fashion and gender. Pierre chuckled at the sight of her in a cropped sweater, a lazy bun in the back of her neck, and some joggers with fluffy socks. His hand squeezed her shoulder as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. "I'll be back soon!" he chirped while making his way to the door. "See you!" She replied, looking over her shoulder at him and then quickly back to her screen. Essays were no problem for her, she liked the assignment better than a presentation or something alike, but it costed quite some time. Pierre had put a bowl of fruit next to her when he had breakfast this morning, and she reached for the last strawberry. They had returned from Qatar a week ago, and it was almost time for Pierre to leave again. He had been very occupied this week, and he had been in Faenza three days for simulator work and briefings about the problems they had with the car in Doha.

Farah had taken a look at her schedule and the last couple of weeks of the semester were busy, deadlines haunting her and an end of the exchange project already around the corner after the Christmas break. Right, the Christmas break. She had five weeks left of her exchange after the Christmas break, and she hesitated if she wanted to go back to New York, but a part of her really, really wanted to go back, desperately. As if her laptop could read her mind, she received a notification of an email from the FIT in New York. It was her study coordinator, who had emailed all exchange students currently studying outside the US. The email told her that the FIT understood that the universities abroad may have different Christmas break dates, and that they are relaxing the rules, which made it possible to follow the rest of the exchange from New York, and then online. Farah read over it a couple of times, and she took a deep breath. If she decided to that, it would definitely be easier, but that also meant that she had about a month left here in Milan. A month left with Pierre.

Farah leaned back in her chair, the motivation for her essay had disappeared, and her coffee had turned cold. She rested her face in her hands. From that month, Pierre was gone probably two weeks. Oh, she felt instantly awful. And then she had to think about the rental contract of her apartment here. She moved a hand over her forehead, letting out a sigh. She clicked the email away and stared at the screen of her laptop with the opened tabs of literature and the Google doc she was writing her essay in. Pierre followed up his promise of coming back soon, and he opened the door while she was still seated at the table in front of the window that offered a beautiful view upon Milan. "Bonjour, ma jolie," Pierre said, placing his cap on the table along with his phone and his sports heart rate monitor. "Hi," Farah said. "I was thinking we could maybe go out for lunch?" Pierre sounded from the kitchen as he got a glass of water. "There's something we need to talk about," Farah said, feeling a headache in the back of her brain. Pierre's expressions grew concerned, and he made his way over to her.

"Is everything okay?" He asked. "My study advisor from New York emailed me. They offer the opportunity to go home for the Christmas break and then follow the rest of the exchange semester online, to spare some travelling back and forth," Farah explained. His eyes glided over her face. "That means you're leaving soon?" he asked. "I'm not sure, I-..." Farah shrugged, swallowing hard. "My program wants me back in New York after my exchange anyway, I'm not sure what's the wisest thing to do now," Farah said, leaning back against the table while crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, what do you want?" Pierre asked. "Can't you ask to be transferred here for the rest of your year?" he continued, but she shook her head. "I don't think my credits will be recognized then. I can't throw away a scholarship," Farah said. "You don't want to... break up, right?" Pierre approached her. "No, absolutely not," she replied without a doubt. "But it's going to be hard, I mean, I won't be able to leave New York for a good couple of months till I have my degree, and you're training from January on, racing from March on," she sighed, gnawing on her bottom lip.