Lilly & Leclerc ~ [CL 16]

36. Pretend

Uuuummmmm...sorry in advance?

After our brief phone call last night Charles insisted that he was the one who would buy my plane tickets to Bologna. After barely a minute of back and forth I agreed explaining that as the sober person he'd be best to plan the trip. He sent the tickets through almost immediately, as if he'd already been looking whilst we were on the phone. The 9:30am flight time had me running from the bar to pack and put my head together, my thoughts scrambled from the night.

The whole flight was spent with my heart in my throat, I could feel it pounding there with nerves and anticipation until I walked through the arrival doors with my small suitcase hot on my heels and weekender tote slung over my shoulder. The shock on my face at seeing Charles there, complete with a bunch of daisies was something I couldn't even hide. A gentle peck against my lips was all it took for the heavy anxious thrumming to my veins to settle. He's here! "What?" He asked almost immediately sensing my surprise - it'd be hard to miss.

"I didn't think you'd actually be here." I admitted between straightening my clothes out and pressing another kiss to his lips. "I expected a guy to be here holding a sign with my name on." My words werent a joke and for a moment I think Charles thought they were. His mouth had twitched with entertainment before flattening out, shoulders straightening.

"Never!" Charles denied before pausing, his lips tilting into a frown. "Only in Bahrain." He corrected before stealing my small suitcase from my hands, pulling it along for me as his arm wrapped around my shoulders. The memory of Bahrain was enough to quiet us both.

Through the thirty five minute drive to Maranello from Bologna we barely spoke. I was too scared to say a thing and Charles was either so tired from everything or too uncertain over what to say that he scarecely said a word. I ended up recounting my night to him quietly, even explaining Liam's surprise appearance and how I had barely slept in anticipation of the trip.

"I managed to get out of working for the weekend now you're here." Charles cheers from beside me, a genuine grin lighting up his features for the first time since we reunited. "I've been so excited to show you the villa, you're going to love it Fleur." As he says the grinned words we pass a sign which says 'Benvenuti a Maranello' - a welcome sign - and a white hot pit opens in my stomach.

Oblivious to my sudden panic as I heave in a steeling breath Charles just slows the car slightly, flicking on his indicator to turn left.

"Charles, we need to talk." The words are gravelly and thick because of the emotion tied to them. Because of everything I've been thinking over in the last twelve hours. By admitting that we need to talk outloud I feel like I'm shattering everything. Charles's foot slips on the brake and we shunt to an abrupt stop as he waits to turn. I gasp at the sudden action, my hand tying to my seatbelt, the other one bracing me against the seat from the sudden stop as I squeak in surprising. He's blocking the road completely.

I just don't think that he cares.

His smiled mood of before is gone, the almost joyful expression replaced with a more surprised and pale one. His mouth endlessly opens and closes, searching for words, but nothing comes out. There's a pain in his usually amazing eyes that tugs at me and I know then that I have shattered everything. Everything good of now as well as what could come.

"Yeah..." he trails off in quiet acknowledgement. A horn from the car behind startles us both, my heart is already skipping beats in my chest so it doesn't make my heart rate rise, but it does knock Charles from the daze he's in. Back into reality. His foot lifts from the break and we begin to move again, slowly. "Sorry ba-yes." He begins to apologise before repeating his previous word breathlessly. I watch with bated breath as Charles drives without saying so much as a word. He locks his lips, opens his mouth to speak then closes his mouth once more. He frowns then relaxes and grips onto the steering wheel of the car so tight that his knuckles turn white.