Rivals - Charles Leclerc

Media Meltdown

Chapter 14

Ava's POV

Waking up to a social media firestorm was never on my to-do list. But this morning? It was particularly dreadful. The harsh glow of my phone screen pierced through the dimness of my room as Marisa burst in, her footsteps heavy with urgency. She held her phone out, her face twisted in a grimace that filled the air with unease.

"Look at this," she said, thrusting the screen toward me.

My stomach churned as I saw the photo splashed across various news sites and social media. There was Charles, hand in hand with me as we left the bar last night. Headlines exploded with speculation about our relationship, each claiming to have some 'insider info' confirming that we were an item.

"This is ridiculous," I muttered, a wave of frustration and embarrassment crashing over me.

Marisa's eyes flickered with concern. The tension from our argument last night still hung in the air. I could see her weighing her words, hesitating before she spoke.

"I can't believe they're making such a big deal out of nothing... right?" she said, indignation lacing her voice, but there was a hint of probing beneath the surface.

I wasn't in the mood for an interrogation. I nodded, brushing her question aside. "Yeah, well, welcome to my life," I replied, bitterness creeping into my tone.

Marisa reached out, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Just remember, Ava, you know the truth. That's all that matters," she said softly.

I managed a weak smile, grateful for her support despite the awkwardness between us. "Thanks, Marisa," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

With a heavy sigh, I gathered my things, preparing to face the day. My mind swirled with worries about how the Red Bull staff would react to this media frenzy. Leaving my room, an uneasy feeling settled in my stomach—I sensed the day ahead would be anything but ordinary.

As I stepped outside, I was met with a swarm of reporters, all clamoring for a comment. Cameras flashed relentlessly, blinding me as I navigated my way to my car. I had to push through the throng, using all my strength to fend off their relentless questioning.

Once inside my car, the reality of the situation began to sink in. The photo of Charles and me was everywhere, and the media circus surrounding our so-called relationship was spiraling out of control. Reporters banged on my windows, their faces desperate as they fought for scraps of information. Anxiety twisted in my stomach—I realized just how big of a deal this had become.

At my training session with Max, the chaos only escalated. Everything felt normal at first, giving me a false sense of confidence that maybe today wouldn't be so crazy. But that peace didn't last long.

Christian Horner barged in, his expression stern and determined. He wasted no time stomping over to interrogate me about the situation with Charles, demanding answers and assurances that this wouldn't affect my performance on the track. His intensity added to my mounting stress, and I struggled to maintain my composure under his relentless scrutiny.

"Ava! Why was Charles Leclerc holding your hand last night?!" Christian's tone was sharp, his gaze piercing as if searching for any hint of deception.

Max stepped in to defend me, his voice firm. "Come on, Christian, give her a break. It's not like she can control what the media decides to blow up," he said, shooting me a reassuring glance.

I appreciated Max's support, but I knew I had to handle this myself. "It's okay, Max," I interjected, trying to sound calm. "I called Charles last night to help me. We're friends, nothing more."