After Y/n Wolff moved away to Vienna when she was 16 she lost contact with her best friend Charles Leclerc. 8 years later she goes on to work and follows her dream in becoming a f1 interviewer, along the way she discovers her love for Charles best f...
A few days later I woke up early in my hotel room. My stomach rumbled, I was starving. My body must have woke me up because it was only 5:46am, I groaned as I got up from the bed, I walked over to my suitcase that sat next to the dresser in my hotel room, I unzipped it and took out a baggy jumper. I now looked lazy and sloppy but the chances of running into anyone at this time was low. No one that I knew or would see again anyways. I put my glasses on and tied my hair up in a messy bun, I put my AirPods in my ears full volume and headed out.
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I locked the door behind me and put my phone in my pocket. I headed down the tall stairs of the hotel and walked into the cafeteria.
'Oh of course.' I grumbled sarcastically as I realised it wasn't open yet.
'Hungry ?' Asked a voice behind me. I knew who it was and I was tired of hearing him. I rolled my eyes before spinning around to face him.
'Maybe... I'm fine though.' I was too tired to give him attitude. I headed back to the exit of the room we were in.
'Take this.' He said pulling out a pot of watermelon. It was store bought and already cut up. It was my favourite food, he knew that but I told him several years ago.
I glanced at him, 'thanks but I'll need a fork.'
'You don't think I know that ?' He asked with a cocky grin on his face, he handed me a metal fork. Perfect, this was just what I needed at 5 in the morning, a visit from the one person I dread even to think about giving me melon and a fork, bit strange but oh well. He handed me the watermelon.
He walked over to the table with a sofa by it, he sat down there and put his feet up on the table. I was so gunna regret this. I followed his steps over to where he sat.
I flopped down on the sofa next to him and he turned his head to look at me. He was confused by what was going on. I put the food and fork on the table and sat back.
'Why are you doing this ?' I asked looking over at him. I put my legs up on the sofa and crossed them.
'Doing what ?' He asked confused by what I meant.
'Why are you being nice ?' I could predict what he would reply with.
'Y/n I really don't care if you are mad at me or hate me or want to kill me. You were my best friend and I loved you so much. I promised myself that I'd never let you go. When I realised I did I was angry with myself, I've never been the same.' He admitted, I looked at him, I didn't know he thought like that still.
I hesitated but I put my hand on top on his which was rested on the cushion. He looked down at them and then back up at me. He flipped his hand and his fingers intertwined with mine.
'I'm still mad at you though Charles-' I began, he turned over to face me.
'Anything I can do to make it up to you.' His thumb rubbed against the back of my hand. There was something that he could do but I didn't know if I was sure about it yet.
