𝐋'𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐄 𝐌𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐄 | 𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑅𝐿𝐸𝑆 𝐿𝐸𝐶𝐿𝐸𝑅𝐶

1

"Con," I mumbled under my breath in French. I am standing in front of the closed airport gate, with my suitcase in my hand, disappointed, that I missed my flight to Monte Carlo.

I couldn't believe it. I should've gone with a private jet, but it was simply an hour's flight. I sighed and walked back to the information counter, asking the kind woman when the next flight to Monte Carlo was scheduled.

Luckily, I had 3 hours to wait. You might say, that is long. No, it's not. It is short if you know what to do to consume time.

I make my time fly by staring at people who walk in front of me and building a background about them. I would even buy a book or a magazine, or listen to music and nap. Sometimes, fans would come by to take a picture with me. I didn't mind. It actually makes me smile.

After fast, but still slow, 3 hours, the air host called in the attendees, and I was first to enter to make sure I did not miss this flight. I did not wish another 3 hours, staring at people weirdly.

"Puis-je voir votre billet, mademoiselle?" Can I see your ticket, miss?   the air host pleasantly asks me. I show him the ticket and smile at him while he guides me to the seat. I thank him as I put my luggage in the storage above the seat. I take my carry-on bag and relax next to the window, opening the shutter.

The flight was about an hour-long from Paris to Monaco. I sat in my seat and brought out my phone, noticing a message from my sister.

Lea : Stay safe, sis ❤ Hurry up with the place. I want to see you. Text me or call me when you land, okay?

I giggle and respond to her.

Chantelle : Okay, love. I will text you when I land, okay? 😊

As I switch off my phone, a man excuses himself and sits next to me, taking a deep breath. He tilts his head backwards and sighs. His hair was deep brown, almost jet black. He had a big nose and a small fraction of facial hair on his cheeks. That is when I recalled that it was Daniel Ricciardo sitting next to me.

I recognized him because my father is an enthusiastic fan of Formula One and always admired the cars and the drivers. When I was a youthful child, I would sit next to my father on the sofa and watch the drivers drive at full speed as they fight  for victory. Shortly after, I was beginning to see them drive when I was at the Grand Prix, cheering for the teams.

He turns to look at me, with no expression at all, and after a few seconds, his eyes widen. "Are you Chantelle Lavigne? The famous actress?" he asks, surprised.

"Are you Daniel Ricciardo? The famous driver?" I ask him. He breaks into a smile. A big one.

I giggle and he joins me with a big grin on his face. "I am Chantelle Lavigne," I answer his question.

"Well, I am Daniel Ricciardo. What a coincidence that we met on the plane." He says.

"I thought drivers had their private jet. Not public transportation." I say to him, giggiling.

"Yeah, well, I had to travel late to Monaco. The majority of the drivers are already there but I'm going late because of a holiday I had with my girlfriend here in France." He explains, maintaining eye contact. "What about you?"

"I'm moving to Monte-Carlo. I need a different background than France and America." I say. "I get bored easily."

"Ooo, you'll love it there. I have a place in Monte-Carlo as well. It's luxurious and calm. Will you be moving at the centre?" he asks me.

I shake my head. "No, I'll be moving at the border. I have a view of the glorious yachts and sea." I describe, imagining what life would be on a yacht. "There's a race in Monaco?" I ask.