Game On || C.L.16

1.8

Amelie's POV

I wake up the 2nd of January, my mind still feeling slightly hungover. I went to bed immediately after we arrived back at the villa yesterday. My body was utterly exhausted and drained from all the energy I had felt in my body while standing on top of that mountain.

I still can't believe I was at risk of losing my contract for that stunt I pulled. Because if we're being completely honest, if only one person took a photo of us, and it ends up at the board of PSG, it could be seen as breach of contract.

The thought of that alone was worrying me, which is why I got changed into something somewhat representable.

I have to get back to Paris to save this.

"Pierre." I sigh, seeing him sitting in the living room alone. Kika and Elena having gone home last night after we got back. My probably frantic state immediately draws his attention. "I need you to get me to the Grenoble airport. I need to go and explain what happened yesterday to my coach."

"Hey, calm down." Pierre says holding my hands. "I'll come with you, you might need backup." And while I know this could be smart, I can't help but feel like I should do this on my own.

"Pierre I need to do this myself." I explain. "I must look weird that my brother is there to support my story. They'll definitely won't believe it then."

"Fine." Pierre huffs. "Then you're taking Charles with you, he's got his jet already at Grenoble airport."

"Wait you knew this would be what I wanted to do?" I ask my brother, unsure if I actually heard it right.

"Kind off. And I'm okay with letting you two get on a plane together as long as it won't make you run away again." Pierre says and I just nod. "Now go and meet up with Charles, because he's already waiting in the car."

I wrap my arms tightly around Pierre, embracing him in a tight hug. "Thank you so much." I tell him before grabbing the packed backpack I had brought with me from the room and make my way outside.

I get into the passenger seat of Charles' car, shooting him a smile as I sit down. "Thanks for doing this." I tell him and he just humms in agreement.

The almost three hour ride was mostly filled with a comfortable silence. Every now and then one of us would comment on something along the road, and the other would comment to that. All for us to lapse back into the silence again.

And while it was comfortable, I couldn't help but feel the tension growing while we were getting closer to the airport. The events of New Year's Eve and yesterday being something we might have to talk about.

I still can't believe I started stripping in front of him.

I also can't believe I felt that triggered by him that I ran away.

And that running away is causing the both of us to be on our way to Paris. To prepare my coach for what might be in the tabloids later today.

Charles manages to drive all the way up to the plane, handing his keys to the special driver service the airport provides. It's not the first time I've been on his plane. I've been in here with Arthur, but it feels different now.

Once I sit down in one of the chairs, I can't help but collapse into tears. Charles doesn't say anything, but he sits down next to me. A soothing hand drawing circles on my back.

"It'll all be okay." Charles whispers soothingly, his hand still going in the same motions.

"But what if it's not? What if they rip up my contact? I won't ever play in the World Cup this summer. I won't ever play again, no one will ever offer me a contract again." I go into my very familiar doom thinking scenarios, something those around me are familiar with. It's definitely a vicious cycle that has to be broken rapidly.