Race & Rally // Charles Leclerc

7.00

I'm worried that Charles can hear my heartbeat pounding in my chest. We're walking through a quiet alleyway that is lined with closed shops. I try to think of conversation to make but I'm still in shock that this is even happening. He ditched his plans to spend time with me?

Charles is first to break the silence and I look over at him as he speaks. "You know I still don't have an outfit for your final."

I let out a breathy laugh. "You don't have an outfit yet because we don't know if it's happening," I remind him but he just shakes his head in return.

"For the last time Summers, it's happening!" He suddenly grabs my hand and my breath hitches at the contact.

"What are you doing?" I ask warily, feeling his fingers intertwine with mine. I try to ignore how his skin burns against mine.

"Just trust me," he smirks as he starts dragging me down the street.

"Charles, where are we going?!" I squeal as we pick up speed and begin to run.

"I'm taking us to a clothes shop," he replies, "You're helping me pick out an outfit."

-

"Immediately no," I say, shaking my head. We had found what seemed to be the only open clothes shop in the area. I have been sitting in a chair outside of the changing room for what feels like an hour now. This is as far from a romcom dress-up montage that you can get.

Charles is definitely a handsome guy, but the man doesn't know a lot about fashion - that much was obvious.

"Oh c'mon! Don't you think it has some sort of flare to it?" he groans, standing in the doorway with the tenth outfit he's tried on.

"Pink does not go with red Charles" I sigh, my head dropping into my hands. "And why have you chosen skinny jeans basically every single time?"

"Do you not like my legs?" he fake pouts and acts upset. I can't help but roll my eyes at him. I'm getting hungry and tiredness is creeping up on me.

"Don't worry Leclerc, your legs still make me weak at the knees. Just not when I can see every little bit of them," I mention sarcastically but I notice that his face was the tiniest bit redder than it was before.

"Ok, if you're so good at this, then why don't you go and pick me out some clothes then?" he asks, clearly getting an impatient as I am.

"Fine, but I can't make any promises," I state before leaving the stuffy changing rooms as quickly as possible.

I scan the aisles roughly but nothing is catching my eye. I finally come across a baggy denim set that's the colour grey with a hint of beige. This was the one. At least, I hoped it was.

I place the clothing into Charles' arms without a word and shove him into the changing room so he doesn't have a chance to make a comment.

He eventually comes out of the room and my mouth falls open slightly as he's still zipping up the jacket, leaving his bare chest exposed. He seems to be struggling to get it closed.

"Fuck Summers, you somehow managed to pick up the one jacket that has a shitty zip," he chuckles.

"Here, hold on," I mutter, walking over to him and grabbing the zip in attempt to close it for him. I try to slow my breathing as my hands accidentally brush against his skin. Being stuck in here for a long amount of time with him was definitely getting to me.

After what felt like an eternity, I get the zip to work and pull it up to his collarbone. "There," I breathe with relief, taking a step back to admire him.