One Shots | Formula 1

CL♥

 "I'll take it as a compliment."

I step out onto the balcony of my new apartment in the heart of Monaco. The sun casts a warm glow over the bustling streets below. It's hard to believe that just a week ago, I was living halfway across the world in a small town, and now here I am, in one of the most glamorous cities in the world. But life has a funny way of throwing surprises at you, and moving here was definitely the biggest surprise of all.

I glance over at the neighboring balcony, where I've caught glimpses of him a few times already. Charles Leclerc, the name that seems to be on everyone's lips in Monaco. He's the hotshot Formula One driver who lives right next door, and let me tell you, the view is pretty nice from here.

Our first encounter was on the day I moved in. I had boxes stacked up to the ceiling, and of course, none of them would fit in the tiny elevator. As I struggled to carry them up the stairs, cursing myself for packing so much stuff, he appeared out of nowhere, offering to help.

"Hey, need a hand?" he asked, flashing a charming smile that made my heart skip a beat.

I must have looked like a deer caught in headlights because all I could manage was a nod and a feeble "Yes, please."

Together, we lugged boxes up the stairs, and by the time we reached my floor, I was out of breath and grateful for his help.

"Thanks so much," I said, trying to catch my breath. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

"No problem at all," he replied, his smile widening. "Welcome to the building. I'm Charles, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Charles."

The next day, as a thank-you gesture, I decided to bake him some cookies. Baking has always been my go-to stress reliever, and what better way to show my appreciation than with a batch of homemade treats?

I knocked on his door, holding out a plate of cookies with a nervous smile. When he opened the door, his eyes lit up in surprise.

"Hey! What's this?" he asked, taking the plate from me.

"It's just a little thank you for helping me yesterday," I replied, feeling suddenly shy under his gaze.

"Wow, you didn't have to do that," he said, looking genuinely touched. "But I'm definitely not complaining. Come on in."

I followed him into his apartment, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. We sat down at his kitchen table, munching on cookies and chatting about everything from our favorite movies to our dream travel destinations.

As we talked, I couldn't help but feel a connection forming between us. There was something about the easy way we bantered back and forth that made me feel like we'd known each other for years, not just a day.

Before I knew it, hours had passed, and the sun was setting outside his window.

"I should probably get going," I said reluctantly, rising from my seat. "Thanks again for everything, Charles."

"Anytime." he said, walking me to the door. "And hey, if you ever need anything else, don't hesitate to ask. That's what neighbors are for, right?"

With a final smile, I headed back to my own apartment, feeling lighter than I had in ages.

The next few days passed in a blur of unpacking boxes, exploring my new neighborhood, and settling into my new routine. Each morning, like clockwork, I would lace up my running shoes and head out for a jog along the picturesque streets of Monaco. And each morning, like clockwork, I would catch a glimpse of Charles leaving his apartment at the same time, dressed in his sportive gear, ready for his own morning run.