Perfect Disaster-Charles Leclerc

twenty two

SEX SCENE!!

"We need to talk Max" 

I move his hand from above my leg and place it on the shifter, we need to set the record straight and it's the right time as he stops the car.

 "I don't know what we are at the moment, I know I don't want an open relationship or cheating, I know I want a love that's calm, regular, no swings, that makes me feel comfortable"

 always if there is such a thing as love, I'm starting to think maybe max can show me what love is. We have often talked about it, I no longer have any idea what it is, I no longer have any idea what form it takes, but he, on the other hand, is very convinced. 

"Give me a way to show you what love is first and why I was talking to that journalist"

 he gets out of the car and I move to get out before he opens the door or runs off somewhere leaving me there alone, again. He reaches out his hand to me uncertainly and I grasp it carefully, I'm afraid on the one hand, I don't want to get hurt, I don't want to hurt myself but I can't deny that I'm falling in love with him, maybe, slowly. He is not what everyone imagines. He is the boy who has his chin to the sky during his anthem on the top step of the podium, he is the boy who runs to Christian after a victory as if it were his first and not his fiftieth, he is the boy who smiles at his little sister from the height of his success, who caresses her cheek, he is the boy who runs to the hospital with you, who calls you as he leaves your hand and leaves you in the hands of the doctors, the boy who risked a puncture (perhaps rightly so), he is a champion and every champion is hated, every successful person is envied, vilified, the ugly is seen. Is he sometimes arrogant on the track? Probably, who isn't when he wants to win? But he is the first to apologise, he like Lewis is a champion with a capital C. He will be the fruit of many newspaper articles, many stories whispered in children's ears, he will be history and I would like him to be part of my history too, or rather to continue to be part of it. He drags me to the back of a small neighbourhood and we enter a small door and actually enter a totally empty gymnasium with huge bleachers and a few balls in the middle of the court 

"give me a one-on-one" 

he cracks a smile and runs to get a ball throwing it to me, I'm behind the three-man line, my house, I turn the ball over in my hands, bend my elbow and jump releasing the ball, I feel my wrist break in the sky under my action and the ball spins clockwise, the feeling is the best, I leave my hand in the air as long as I can and the ball goes in breaking the silence of the gym falling right under the iron ring 

"shall we do it? "

 "Get ready verstappen, you don't win at everything"

 "I've already won you" 

I throw the ball to his chest and roll up the sleeves of my sweatshirt and fold my legs: I defend, the thing I do best, the thing that makes me happiest, satisfied and feels enough. It's not long before he puts the ball on the floor and I steal it in a quick move and go out from the three-point line and then make a small sprint that I stop immediately, making Max jerk and catch him on the counterattack attacking the iron easily.

"Okay, that's it you're at 21, you win"

 "I totally won" he sits down on the floor, I even gave him a few points but he and pride are one in the same.

 "I asked her for some help with that" 

"that doesn't explain you calling yourself 'love'" I shoot a few passes from max and let the ball go in and drop to go get it

 "are you jealous" I dribble and get back in position and retreat 

"no, but if you're my boyfriend she's an arm's length away with her love"