Under the helmet | Charles Leclerc

~Chapter 35~

When we arrive Charles opens my door and holds out a hand to me which I happily take and we both walk towards the restaurant entrance which look extremely grand and fancy, but most of all, expensive. Charles leads me into the restaurant by the gentle grip he has on my hand, making me feel comfortable and reassured as we walk into this place which puts me on edge a little from how fancy it is. The only people here were either rich, or rich. Everyone is covered in bling and suits and dresses and have their hair done extravagantly to every strand being perfect. Each table has expensive glasses of wine or champagne or prosecco, mostly wine. Additionally having red mats on each of the tables and the seat cushions a matching red too.

Charles and I sit in a table, a little further away from the others to get some privacy and so that people won't bother us too much throughout being here. The waiter also said that they'd keep paparazzi away if any came this way.

"Red or white wine?" Charles looks at me.

"Red, please." I respond back to him and he smiles.

"Your finest red wine, por favor." Charles speaks a little bit of Spanish looking at the waiter who nods his head and takes the wine list off of Charles.

My eyes stare into his, maintaining a comfortable eye-contact with him and I stare him in his perfectly fitted suit which only somehow attracts me more to him, somehow, the phenomenon of men looking better in suit is amplified with him.

"So, Spain next, how are you feeling about it?" He makes conversation, still with eye-contact but he adds a innocent smile.

"Slightly pressured, but I sure miss the feeling of winning. So I won't lose." I add a slightly half serious-half sarcastic tone to the last four words.

"Should I be scared?" He asks, chuckling.

"No, but Red Bull and Mercedes should be." I give him a reassuring look.

"Do you specifically mean Verstappen?" Charles implies, and he isn't wrong, Verstappen kind of my main rival... On track.

"Well, yes, on track. Off track he can be really friendly." I point out to Charles, and he nods in agreement. "And your my teammate, I wouldn't intentionally crash into you." I chuckle a bit, being obvious.

"Teammate? Ouch." He puts his hand on his heart and acts offended.

"Well, what actually are we?" I ask, adding a slightly confused tone. Charles only turns red at my question and clears his throat as the waiter arrives with the wine bottle.

"Gracias." Charles says as the waiter nods at him and gives him a warm smile, filling both of our glasses with the blood red liquid.

There's a silence between the two of us as we taste the wine and Charles nods his head in agreement with the waiter who is holding the bottle beside the table waiting for us to try it. I also nod my head in approval, and the waiter beams and pours us some more wine in our glasses and leaves us with the food menu.

"Maeve, I'm curious, what actually got you into racing?" Charles breaks the silence, which I almost don't notice.

"Well, aside from the fact I was constantly told that I couldn't do it because I'm a girl, I had always loved go-karting as a fun activity with my friends. That love quickly turned into a strong passion and I'd dream of being on the track every night waiting for my turn to go. I eventually annoyed my parents enough to get me into professional racing. Though, they quickly gave up on the idea when I suffered a bad injury in f3 and hated the idea since. I persevered through my injury into f2, then now a reserve driver in f1. And my parents still hate me doing it, but I enjoy it so much, I'm not giving up on it." I explain, which may be a little too detailed of an explanation, but the whole time he looks at me intrigued while I explain the story to him.

"I'm sorry that your parents acted that way, they should help you rather than give up on you, and I'm glad your in f1." Charles concludes looking at me with a comforting smile appearing on his face.

"I'll make them believe in me soon enough, they are just scared and they care too much. Which in the end only makes me feel like they don't believe in me." I explain to him, while he reaches for my hand across the table.

"Well, know that I believe in you, and I won't give up on you." He says sincerely, which is implied in more ways than one, as I take his hand that's resting across the table.

"Thank you, Charles, that means a lot. I believe in you too." I respond, to which we smile at each other, maintaining eye-contact for what some would call too long.

"Are you ready to order?" A Spanish accent rises from behind me, and Charles straightens himself up quickly.

"Yes. Are you?" He asks me, to which I respond with a nod.

We both order our dishes and we have the rest of the night with casual conversation and good company from the waiters and brilliant Spanish dishes from the chefs, to which I can only applaud. We get the bill, which Charles demands to pay, not even letting me hold the bill, stealing the piece of paper as it comes to the table.

We get into the taxi, yet again avoiding any prying eyes and Charles looks at me with a smirk on his face, undressing me with his eyes.

"What are you thinking, Leclerc?" I ask him, which I assume only makes his situation worse, a smirk trails up my face.

"Worry later cherie, we need good sleep tonight." Charles explains, winking at me, not knowing at all what he's implying which only intrigues me more, yet I know him too well. He won't tell me.

I roll my eyes slightly to look outside the window, to which he releases a slight chuckle from his mouth. The taxi ride is only a few more minutes than after that, and it then ends quickly. We both get out the taxi and put on a pair of sunglasses before preparing ourselves for the late night paparazzi which still lurk around the hotel entrance, desperate for a few more pictures. Maybe they get pictures of the drivers with other people, who knows. I would love to know what drives them crazy to stay up so late.

We manage to get into the lobby without too much bother, until a familiar face of Viola comes into view and she starts walking over.

"You two are really trending on the media pages as a couple, what do you two make of this?" Viola asks, while Charles and I look at each other confused.

"Uhm, can we have this discussion after a rest, Viola?" I ask her, to which she nods her head and refuses to press any further.

"Anyway, you both have some interviews tomorrow, Maeve, you have one in the morning and then you both get to drive a ferrari around the Barcelona track asking each other questions for sky interviewers." Viola informs us, and we both look at each other with mischief in our eyes at the sound of driving a ferrari around the Barcelona track.

"Do I have any, Viola?" Charles breaks the eye contact and looks at Viola who looks back down at her iPad.

"Yes, you have one before and after the ferrari interview, the one afterwards being with Carlos who will join you remotely. Please try to avoid any questions about seats for next year. And the owner of the ferrari wants it back without a scratch on it." Viola makes things clear to both of us, which we both nod at.

"I would never ruin such an amazing car, like a ferrari." I claim, Charles looking at me with a sarcastic look, implying what I just said was complete bullshit.

"I will be the one to not ruin it, if anything you will ruin it." Charles responds back to me.

"Bet." I respond back to him to which we both laugh at while Viola puts her head in her hands, scared for the fate of the car. "Don't worry Viola, it's in safe hands." I point out to her while Charles walks over to the elevator, while I quickly follow behind.

"Goodnight, you both." She says walking out of the lobby.

We both look back and wave her off, when we get off the elevator at the third floor we both go our separate ways and Charles kisses me gently on the head goodnight before I return to my apartment and quickly head to bed.