Last I Checked

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"Last I checked, it's not my job to make sure you charge your phone

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"Last I checked, it's not my job to make sure you charge your phone." I match Pierre's energy with my own unamused tone, defending myself after he's been non stop ranting about it since we woke up.

He had a horrible qualifying yesterday, leading to a late night call that ended in pleasure for both of us.

I've never actually woken up with him on race day so I don't know if this is his normal, but if it is I will sure not be doing that again.

He well and truly woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

I'm not having it either.

He's a full adult, he doesn't need me to remind him to plug his phone in at night.

Hell, he didn't remind me.

Regardless, it happened.

So now he's running behind.

And throwing a full on fit about it in my opinion.

We're racing from the boat back to land in Monaco, where it is usually my favorite race day of the year.

But it's not off to a great start.

"People will see us arrive together at the dock."

No shit sherlock.

"Who cares?" He glares over at my answer, showing he does.

How annoying.

People have seen us together in the paddock before, press. People have whispered when he's brought me things. We've always behaved like flirty friends, and nothing has ever come of it. But he's never seemed to care before.

"The press will take pictures." He cares, clearly.

I'm sure they have before.

"We're just friends Pierre, relax." Much like telling a woman to calm down when she is already mad, telling him to relax only has the same affect. He clenches jaw, not looking at me.

He sure as hell doesn't mind grabbing my ass at a bar full of our friends, but arriving on a boat together is a step too far?

Cool.

We're nearly to the dock when he says "Don't come out tonight then. I don't want the press talking."

It's a good thing he's not looking, because I fully roll my eyes at that one.

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