The bet | Charles Leclerc

• Eighteen •

Tuesday

My heartbeat rings in my ears, aggressive and warning. I can't take my eyes of the name on my phone, sharp inhales coming from my mouth.

Jos.

"Who is it?" Leclerc asks me, reminding that I'm not alone on this plane, reminding me that his lips touched mine few seconds ago.

His hand finds mine, stroking comfortingly as his eyes continue to flash with desire. All forms of lust in my body, disappeared the minute I saw his name.

"My dad." I answer through my teeth, an anxious tone coating my strained voice. Leclerc's muscles tighten by the mention of Jos, squeezing his grip around my hand.

I gotta pick it up. I'll get in trouble if just let it ring.

"I have to answer it" I softly tell Leclerc, grappling my phone with an incredibly forced, fake smile. Slowly, my finger finds the accept call button.

"Isa?" Immediately Jos' voice is harsh.

"Jos." I respond, just as harsh.

Anything he can do, I can do fucking better.

"We need to talk." He simply says, his voice rattling over the line. Fuck. That can only mean bad things.

"I'm really busy at the moment, can we do this another time?" I ask, my voice surprisingly and undeservingly, gentle.

Anything to not have whatever conversation he wants.

"We. Need. To. Talk. Isa." Jos spits out his words like threats, his tone, his anger growing stricter with every word.

I gulp. "Vater it's not a good time" I reply, my voice becoming weak. Slowly, Leclerc releases his grip around my hand, retrieving his hand.

I shudder. Not because of the sudden lack of touch or the look on Leclerc's face, but my own words. Vater. Never thought I'd be stooping this low.

I get a loud scoff from the other end in response. "I know what's going on." He says, a terrifying chuckle following.

I pause, holding my breath.

"You're with Leclerc aren't you?"

My Vaters words are full of spite, full of years of relentless hatred. Even when he was just 14, Charles Leclerc was an enemy to Jos.

He had as much talent as his son. And Jos certainly wasn't fond of that.

"Jos I'll call back another time" I state, my voice determined, as I look over at Leclerc. A worried expression coats the whole of his face.

I can only pray he can't hear this phone call.

"Oh I fucking knew it, you're with him!" Jos exclaims, the hatred for Leclerc being passed onto me.

I freeze. I sit completely still, like an old statue, frightened.

I can't deny it. I can't even bear to imagine the things he'd do, if I denied it and he found out I'd been lying.

"He just offered me a flight home" I almost whisper into the phone, scared to the bone of what the returning words will be.

Leclerc's gaze snaps intensely serious, his back straightening. Well now he definitely knows that we're talking about him.

Jos scoffs, just like he's done at me countless of times throughout the years, throughout my childhood.

"Slut."