apocalypse | charles leclerc ✓

chapter 1 | curiosity killed the cat

«I can see the end as it begins.»

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Sloane peeled his arm off her shoulders, freeing herself from him. Pierre raised an eyebrow, to which she returned the gesture by doing the exact same thing. The driver chuckled and a mere second later, pinned his attention back to Aurora, who was in the middle of a very elaborate ramble regarding the upcoming season, not as bothered to have the French man's arm around her shoulders as she was. Sadly, Sloane didn't know enough to keep up with the words being shared between them, and no one went to a club to discuss racing anyway. At least not her, Aurora seemed entertained though.

Funny considering how opposed she'd been to go when the opportunity presented itself.

One of the guys sitting across smiled at her, and she averted her gaze somewhere else, acting like she hadn't seen him. Not only wasn't she interested, but also the idea was to search for a rando, not someone who clearly knew Pierre. As soon as she noticed Aurora had taken a breather from all her racing explanations, Sloane saw the chance and reached for her arm to hold her attention. Aurora looked at her, brows slightly furrowed as always. Worried and expectant.

"Do you want a drink? I'll go get something for me, in case you want anything." Her voice was loud, to avoid leaning all over Pierre who was sitting in the middle of both.

Aurora nodded. "Just a Coke," The French driver raised both eyebrows. "I have to work tomorrow." She clarified with a stern tone. Their little friendship was quite funny, and still a mystery for her.

If someone like her already stressed Aurora out from time to time, she could only imagine how Pierre did it.

"Alright, a Coke then. Will be back in a moment."

The conversation about racing resumed while Sloane pushed off her seat, making her way out of the private area. She weaved through the crowd of sweaty bodies, even shoving a guy who tried to grab her for a quick dance. The air was sticky, smelling like everything and nothing at the same time, she felt the sweat pooling on the back of her neck, and her cheeks getting warmer.

Someone left the bar counter when she approached, almost bumping into her when they turned around to leave, Sloane managed to dodge it and took advantage to squeeze herself into the spot. One of the two bartenders grinned and tried to talk to her in Italian at first. No matter how many hours of basic Italian Aurora tried to teach her, she still couldn't get a grasp of the language.

"English?" She gave him a convincing smile. The bartender chuckled and nodded. "A Coke with ice, and a Negroni, please. Thank you."

The guy tipped his head before turning around to prepare her drinks and take someone else's order. She absentmindedly drummed her fingers on the counter and looked around, inspecting every bottle on display behind the bar. There were so many colours and they sparked with the club lights. It was distracting. The person on her left stepped away from the bar, but the muggy sensation of an arm brushing into hers was replaced immediately when the space got occupied again. It was like they came and went.

A second, or two, passed before she felt cold liquid running on the side of her hand and under her palm. The newcomer had dropped part of their drink on the counter, right on her side. Great.

Sloane moved her hand away, shaking the liquid off, and then looked up at the person who'd done it, especially because this one started apologising in rapid Italian. She knew it was an apology because she caught the word dispiace somewhere in all that. Her eyes slightly widened recognising the guy who kept excusing himself with hand movements and incomprehensible Italian.