𝙾𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢┃ Charles Leclerc┃

Chapter Eleven - The Incident

"So, are you going to tell me I'm right yet?"

I huffed excessively and rolled my eyes as Lando and I paced through the paddock together, only just keeping up with each other's speed.

"Will you be quiet? There are cameras everywhere!" I scowled at my teammate who, as usual, was grinning happily.

"Mel is going to go ballistic when she finds out." Lando clasped his hands together as he winced playfully. "Sleeping with the enemy. Tut tut."

I scoffed loudly. "And that is precisely why Mel isn't going to find out. It was a one time thing."

"Mhm, sure. At least tell me if it's serious?" Lando's voice consciously lowered to a quiet mumble, whilst his face remained entirely appealing to the media.

I smiled, occasionally waving to the press and fans that we strolled past as we completed the paddock walk. It was all a facade, disguising what we were truly talking about. "Serious? We only hooked up one time. I have no idea what it is."

"Charles has been so much happier this season. Since you got here. He had it rough last year." Lando gestured his hands about as we made it to the McLaren garage, preparing to film a promotional video for the team's YouTube channel.

"It's not because of me, Lando. Don't get ahead of yourself." I said with a small frown as I interacted with many a McLaren employee that was floating about the garage. "Now, drop this conversation. We've got media work to do."

We ended up filming a "Red Flag or Green Flag" video for the YouTube channel, which resulted in me finding out the Lando thinks trusting astrology signs is a green flag.

The afternoon was when the qualifiers took place, however, so the vibe of the street circuit changed entirely. What had been a lighthearted and rather goofy morning swiftly became an afternoon of intense focus and precision.

Every racer did quick rounds to appease fans and sponsors, including meet-and-greets, parades, and interviews—the usual crowd-pleasing and ass-kissing, even when it was only qualifiers. Following that, I did my typical engine checks and attend a pre-race stage event with an end goal of alone time in my McLaren suite. This sport exhausted the best of us. I loved it, but it wore a person down through the years. Music was my preferred method of easing nerves before races. I had a playlist and everything for each day of racing since I tended to be a creature of habit who preferred solitude. Unlike other drivers, I left the celebrating for after a race when I actually won. No one likes a person who parties prematurely and doesn't even end up on the podium.

There was a quiet but quick knock at my door, only just heard over the music that played through my headphones.

"Come in!" I sang, bopping my head back and forth to the melody.

Charles Leclerc stood at the door of my suite, an unexpected sight that sent a rush of adrenaline through me. His overalls hung around his hips, covering the bases of his fireproofs.

"Hey," he said softly, his eyes bright and focused. "Mind if I come in for a bit?"

My heart raced behind the padding my racing suit. "Sure, come in."

He closed the door behind him, and for a moment, the room felt charged with an inexplicable energy. I tried to hide the flutter in my chest, reminding myself of the impending qualifiers.

Then I heard the door lock, and the flutter became so strong that it made me feel like I was about to take off. The thought of the impending qualifiers went straight out of the window.

"Are you ready for the qualifiers?" He asked, leaning against the wall casually, his gaze fixed on me.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I replied, trying to steady my racing thoughts. "It's going to be a tough one today."