Pole position // Charles Leclerc

9

Mia's POV:
I pressed the button to lift the wall, trying to hide my reddening cheeks.

'The wall? Really?' He asked, monotone.

'You showed me where the button was.' I exclaimed.

'I thought we could chat, get to know eachother better.' He responded, so innocently, it made me pull the wall down a little.

'I'm tired Charles, if I wanted to speak to you idve stayed in my seat.' I said, in a duh tone.

'Say my name again.' He smiled.

'Why? Did I say it wrong?' I panicked.

'No, I just love how it sounds on your lips. Say it again.' He insisted.

'Charles?'

'Bellissima.' He smiled, moving his arm up so it was tucked under his head.

'How many languages do you speak?' I yawned, trying my hardest to keep my eyes open.

'English, French and Italian.' He rattled them off, proudly.

'French and Italian, huh? Two of the sexiest languages of the world.' I joked.

'I mean it suits, really doesn't it?' He teased.

'Your ego doesn't need any more of a boost so I'm going to stay quiet.' I laughed.

'I'm not as bad as they make me look, you know?' He said, the mood shifting dramatically at his sudden confession.

'I'll believe it when I see it.'

'I'm ready to grow up, settle down. The girls, the alcohol, it's all for show. We don't enjoy it, well, most of us don't.' He said, clearly his mind wondering to Pierre at the end of that sentence.

'Dating an f1 driver is a road to heartbreak.' I yawned.

'Not all of us.'

'You ever had a girlfriend?' I asked.

'Not one. I've never found a girl I wanted to share this crazy life with.' He shrugged.

'So you sleep around?' I quizzed.

'I mean, no?' He said, almost like it was a question.

'Aren't you sure?'

'Sometimes I'll sleep with someone if the opportunity arises, but not as often as you'd think.' He responded.

'What's your body count?' I pressed.

His mouth dropped open at the sudden question.

'I think you should sleep, now.'

'No. Just tell me, I won't tell anyone.' I clasped my hands together, knowing he was going to give me some good gossip.

'I don't count.' He said, finally.

'Liar. Number. Now.' I pushed.

'54.' He said quickly, as if it made it any better.

For some reason, my heart sunk. I didn't like him and I sure as hell didn't want to date him, but he was just like the rest of them.

'I didn't expect anything less.' I mumbled, turning away from him, not knowing how to continue the conversation now.

'If you let me fuck you right now, we can make it 55?'

'Absolutely not.' I scoffed.

'Come on, what's yours?' He asked.

'Two.'