REPUTATION ──── CHARLES LECLERC.

vii.

chapter seven. the one where they go to the beach.

Another consecutive win for Charles Leclerc. He won in Spa, he wins in Monza. And unlike every other time, Willa feels giddy at the prospect of seeing him again. She knows that it isn't unlikely, especially since he'd be celebrating his win. 

And surely enough, she finds him outside of the club. "Congratulations on your win." she says warmly. 

"You're here." he says softly. "Thought I'd never see you again."

Willa shrugs. "Maybe its fate." she hums and she let out a soft laugh, "Augustine and I came again."

"I gathered that much." he muses and moves towards her. "I have something of yours." he adds. 

She raises a brow. "Do you now?"

He nods and around his wrist is the all too familiar bracelet that Eleanor had given Willa. "I believe this is yours."

Willa takes it appreciatively. "I believe it is." she says and glanced at him. "Keep it." he studies it and slips it back on. 

"Who's Eleanor?" he asks.

"Older sister."

"I didn't know you had a sister."

"Half-sister." Willa corrects. "She and I aren't close anymore."

He hums and glanced at her. "What happened there?"

Willa shrugs. "We drifted, I guess."

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The dimly lit beach casts a soft glow on their faces. "I've never done this before." he admits. 

"What? Go to the beach at 3 in the morning?" she asks. 

"Well yes to that." he muses. "But see the same girl, twice." 

Willa laughs. "Its new to me too." she replies and then looks at him. "so Mr Hotshot Racecar Driver..."

He laughs and moves closer to her. "You're in a band." he says. "What's that like...?"

She shrugs. "When you pick the right people, its really good." she admits. "Sometimes its filled with a lot more drama than it needs to have."

He shakes his head. "Its a lot like that too in the racing scheme. Some people aren't at all fond of their teammates."

"That does not apply to you, I presume." she states. 

"Mmm." he shrugs. "Its not a bad relationship." 

Willa hums in response and glanced at him. "So..."

The silence is deafening and then he looks up at her. "You left." he points out. 

"I had a flight." 

"Where are you from?"

"Los Angeles." she replies. "I was born in New York."

"Why did you move to Los Angeles?" he asks. 

"Didn't have much of a choice. My mom... she's an actress, she was married to my dad, and then... they divorced. I never really saw him again." she admits. "He was a director, they met on a movie together." 

Charles lets out a whistle. "Wow." he glances at her. "You must be very well connected."

She shrugs. "I should be, but not really." she admits. "It didn't help that my older sister was the golden child. She's responsible, me? Not so much." 

"I find that hard to believe." he muses. "You seem pretty put together."

"Well," she shrugs. "When you struggle with your father basically never wanting anything to do with you, you spiral. When I was fifteen, I formed a band with a girl I went to boarding school with, Augustine, and then we added several other people. Really, it kind of all fell in line after that." she laughs dryly and then looks at him. "He ended up having a whole entire different family after me. Won a couple of Oscars and decided that his new wife wasn't enough either."

He blinks and then frowns. "Yikes."

"Exactly."

"I have a half sibling too, and a younger brother." he says. "Its probably not the same, we all get along. We fight... like brothers do."

"I wish me and my sister got along. It kind of all fell apart when we were fourteen and she brought up the fact that we were half sisters and not full blooded siblings, that I ruined her life and a whole bunch of other stuff." she shrugs. "And my mom, she kind of never really got her life together after. She was engaged to someone and then they broke it off because of a domestic dispute."

He glances at her. "Your hair, the red, which parent is it from...?" he asks as he studies her; liking how the dim moonlight illuminated her red hair. 

"My dad." she says. "I know, its so... aggressive." 

He shakes his head; reaching to tuck a loose strand behind her ear. "No, I like it. It suits you." its soft, he gets a whiff raspberries and rose petals; it suits her. "Brings out your eyes." 

She's grateful its dark out or he would see the way she's burning up from the blood rushing to her face. His gaze flicks down to her lips and then back at her. 

He wants to kiss her.

And he does.

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