: ̗̀➛ part three of the
one for the road series
SNOWFALL / CL16
in which two childhood friends reunite. a formula one driver wants to learn how to snowboard and it just so happens that the daughter of his mum's be...
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✧ ˚ · . CHAPTER SIXTEEN . · ˚✧ saturdays take the pain away
palermo, sicily, summer 2014
Arthur had officially earned a spot on my favourite people ever list. Not only had he helped Charles arrange the picnic (something my boyfriend had admitted to me shyly while walking back home three days ago) but the youngest Leclerc had also convinced my mother to leave the three of us alone this fine Saturday, promising that he would 'keep an eye' on us.
However, Arthur had vanished the moment our parents had pulled from the driveway. Alfie and Lorenzo had left to the tennis court and, knowing them, would spend the entire day after at a café with whomever was the object of their flirtations during practice.
It was the perfect moment for Charles and I to spend some time alone—an occurrence that had become more and more rare over the past couple of days. It had become almost impossible to sneak a kiss here or there, or to withdraw to one of our rooms. The 'no closed doors' rule had been implemented across everyone now, and the doors were always, always open.
That fact, however, meant that every morning for the past three days, I had walked past my parents' bedroom, only to find my father's side made without a crease, while my mother was fast asleep. When I would come downstairs, I would find him sitting outside with a cup of coffee and a book, as if nothing strange was going on.
There was definitely something strange going on. My mother's sudden strictness about Charles and I, her grouchiness, her sad smiles, my father's lacklustre efforts to spend time with Alfie and I, his perfectly made bed...
For today, though, I was planning to let that all go. Because today, Charles and I had the entire house to ourselves, and we were planning to make good use of it.
I was currently making us an elaborate brunch with chocolate chip pancakes and strawberries and bananas on the side, our favourite. Even though Charles generally took great care to stick to a pre-affirmed diet, I had gotten consent to, for this special day, make him his favourite breakfast meal.
Charles walked down the stairs in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, his hair tousled from a long morning spent in bed. "It smells so good in here," he hummed as he walked over.
"It's going to be so good," I said with a small smile, flipping the pancake seconds before arms wrapped themselves around my waist. Charles' bare chest was warm through his thin Beatles t-shirt that I was wearing. It fell to the top of my thighs, barely covering my ass, but that had been Charles' exact argument this morning when I almost replaced it for one of his larger t-shirts: there's no-one else around to see but me, and I love your ass. Wear it.
Charles pressed his lips against my shoulder and ran his hands over my hips, up and under my t-shirt. "I missed you."
"I've only been downstairs for twenty minutes, baby," I said with a laugh, swatting his hands away and reaching back for the other pancake. I had already resorted in using two pans to get them done twice as quickly, knowing Charles' impatience (and his incessant hunger—for more things than just edible food).
