Glitter: A Pierre Gasly Story

Chapter 24

ELLIE'S POV

Pierre Gasly had kissed me. Pierre Gasly kissed me and I had like it. I had really liked it.

I'd been confused after the podium ceremony for the Dutch Grand Prix, unsure of what it had meant. Was it part of the act? Was he caught up in the moment? I hadn't allowed myself to think that it could be anything real or of significance.

At least not until it happened again.

Because I could come up with a million different reasons why he'd kissed me after the race, but the way he'd touched me in my hotel room erased them all, and I was left with one conclusion: Pierre Gasly liked me.

In the days following, we both seemed to be avoiding any conversation about us. And although it was killing me to not know where he stood and how he really felt, I was grateful he hadn't pushed it. Because my head was a mess.

I couldn't deny that I'd always been attracted to Pierre. Our chemistry was electric, and even that very first night in Italy, I'd wanted to indulge in him. I knew I had feelings for him, but the stunt had made everything confusing and complicated.

He had been my enemy for so long, and only recently had I moved him into the friend category. What if we gave us a go, and it ended terribly? Things had been so bad before, and I couldn't imagine how much worse it would be if one of us hurt the other. It would completely undo everything that we had been building.

It seemed easier to just keep on doing what we had been and pretending to be together. It seemed like the safest option. The professional option.

But I frequently found myself imagining a world where I was really his. A world where he brought my favorite coffee in the morning and made sure I had company while he worked. Where I never had to feel that deep-seated loneliness that had sunken so far into my bones.

I'd wished more than anything I had someone to confide in, who could help me make sense of this all. I couldn't talk to any of the other girlfriends; they all thought Pierre, and I were already happily together, except maybe Alex who I had a sinking suspicion, knew exactly what was going on.

I thought about calling my therapist, but I somehow felt like she wouldn't give me the advice I was hoping for.

My mother was obviously a no.

And so, I'd simply been following Pierre's lead of avoiding the issue and pretending everything was normal.

Which was probably for the best because the French Grand Prix was this week and the spotlight on Pierre and me would be intense.

It was the first time the race would be held here since 2022, and as Alpine was the only French team with the only French drivers, Pierre's schedule was crazy. There would be sponsor galas and fan appearances and media interviews. Every move that we made this week would be captured and discussed.

So, with the stakes so high, our teams had insisted that I stay with Pierre at his apartment in Paris.

I didn't know why, but I was more nervous to stay at Pierre's apartment than I had been to stay with his family on vacation. There was something so personal about staying in someone's home; I know that I would have felt weird about having Pierre in my house.

We'd travelled from Amsterdam to Paris together, and I'd been taken off guard when we arrived outside a small set of flats above a row of shops. It seemed so understated. So unlike where I thought Pierre would live.

As we made our way through the small entry way and up the stairs, Pierre spoke up.

"I hope you don't mind a little exercise," he commented as we climbed steadily.