Double Fault

Chapter 3

CHARLES POV:

I sat with my knee bouncing up and down as Alcaraz began warming up. We still had lots of tennis viewing in front of us, and I had an idea that Pierre would consider crazy. Before I could overthink my decision more, I gave into my body. I let my feet takeover, and I stood up and headed toward the aisle. Pierre looked at me curiously with one eyebrow raised.

"I'm gonna run to the restroom and try some of those strawberry dishes... strawberry andddd," I trailed off not knowing the dish or having any interest in getting it.

"Cream," Pierre smirked. I nodded while running my hand through my hair. "Mmhmm, well no need to rush," he said hinting that he knew what I was up to. I was about to walk off when he called my name and threw the tennis ball for me to catch.

My feet led me out of the stadium and to the VIP section. It's often you can catch players on their way out of the tournament in this area. I figured it was worth a shot grabbing a beer and claiming a table facing the exit doors of the clubhouse.

FLORENCE'S POV:

I walked out into the cool air freshly showered and trying to relax after my match. The wind had picked up and so had the crowd near the door. Some fans timed meeting me with their oversized tennis balls, posters, and sharpies. I smiled for selfies and put my head down signing anything within my vision. 10 minutes later the crowd had disappeared and I was on my own. I checked my phone to see if I had gotten any texts from coaches when a voice surprised me followed by a hand and ball in my way.

"Could I ask for an autograph," the voice said with a thick French accent. My eyes followed to a grinning face that belonged to Charles Leclerc.

My mouth formed into an O shape as I stared at his facial features up close for the first time. His green eyes were piercing with almost a band of gold around his pupils, his lip turned at the side giving me a welcoming grin, and his brown hair was unruly going in every possible direction like he has been running his hand through it nonstop. His grin turned into a toothy smile because I had still not responded.

"Sorry," I finally squeaked out as a response which led into a laugh. "I'm a little a loss for words. I'm usually greeted by my coach, not strange French men."

I watched as his smile grew into his whole face, the creases forming around his eyes. "That's Monegasque to you. You are Italian, you should know your racers," he winked.

"Tu dici patate io dico pomodoro [You say potato I say tomato]," I joked earning a laugh from Charles. "You don't really want an autograph do you."

His mouth dropped open shocked, "oh no Pierre asked for one personally, but I also really wanted to congratulate you on your win. I'm really glad we got see you play, and I have to say it's the best tennis I watched live."

"Well thank you for the support, and I have to say your Italian cheers were hard to ignore in the best possible way."

"Of course," Charle's said looking around. I could see his brain churning as I prepared to excuse myself. "Do you have a minute to chat," he asked pulling out the chair next to him. I bit my lip and smiled. I nodded my head and took a seat next to Charles.

CHARLES POV:

Florence sat in front of me in her post tennis clothes, her racket and bag sprawled onto the table, and her water bottle constantly being moved around enthusiastically through the air as she told me her feelings about the match. We have been talking for close to 45 minutes and conversation was flowing easily. She had also asked me about Silverstone, but I skimmed the conversation in under 5 minutes. Florence seemed to understand it wasn't my favorite talking point for today. She finished telling me about her next opponent and caught her breath bringing her eyes back to mine.

"So what's on your agenda now that you have some time off," she asked.

"Well, we don't have another race until Italy which is next Sunday, so we have a decent amount of time off. No huge travel, it's our home race, no crazy schedule for the next handful of days, it's nice," I said while lacing my hands together and resting them behind my head. "I already planned hanging around Wimbledon. I won't lie, we are staying for Alcaraz as long as he is in the tournament, but I have a second person to watch now too if that's okay with you." I bit my tongue hoping it wasn't too forward.

A smile formed on her lips and she held by gaze. "I'll allow it, but you and Pierre will have to accept my tickets. They're not in my box but they are better seats than today," she said.

"We accept," I responded. "BUT," I said loudly making her smile fall. "You have keep your word."

"Onnn?"

It was my turn to surprise her. "You promised to cheer for Farrari. You must come to the Grand Prix if you are free, and we are looking for a famous Italian to wave the checkered flag."

She scrunched her nose at the word famous and broke my eye contact. "I'm not famous."

"Oh good, neither am I. We just compete in cool sports for our country," I tried to say as thoughtful as possible. Her smile returned and her eyes locked back to mine.

"Fine, but I'm only agreeing on the grand prix right now. I could maybe be convinced about the flag."

"Really?" I felt my smile go through my face, my eyes squinting a bit when I heard her agree.

"Promettere [Promise]."

I reached down into my pocket and pulled out my phone opening up my contacts. I pushed the phone to her. "How about that autograph," I teased as she took the phone and began entering her number. When she handed my phone back, I saw we have been chatting for almost an hour, plus the time I waited for her to leave the clubhouse. "I should probably get back to watch Carlos," I said with a grin on my face.

Florence gathered her things. "Finally, I have been starving." She took a step backwards. "Enjoy your tennis. When you text me I can also make sure you get those tickets."

I nodded and took a half step away turning my body towards center court. "I'll text you soon," I said waving and turning around before she called my name spinning me around.

She threw something toward me that I clumsily caught. I looked into my hand and saw the tennis ball with her signature marking it in sharpy. "For Pierre," she yelled turning her back to me and walking away.

I chuckled and tossed the ball into my other hand. My brain was churning as I went over the conversation we just had. What an unexpected evening. As I approached my seat, I saw Carlos had won the first set and was about to win the second set with ease. Pierre was fully focused on the match and didn't notice me behind him when the point ended. I dropped the ball into his lap and watched him pick it up and study the signature. A smiled formed on his face.

"Long line for strawberries and cream," he said while tossing the ball between his hands then looking back towards the match. He didn't bother to look up at my face which was in a dumb grin.