𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐈 | 𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔

𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐕

·˚ ༘

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note: the dialogue in italics are in french!

October 17th 2023

ZAHRA NICHOLS

Austin had always been loud and bustling, but my hotel room was a stark contrast—quiet and dimly lit, a sanctuary from the chaos outside. I sprawled across the bed, scrolling through my phone to catch up on the latest news. I was expecting updates on race strategies, team dynamics, maybe even some lighthearted gossip. But what I found made my heart sink.

"Charles at a Club in Austin with a Woman," blared one caption, accompanied by grainy photos and laggy videos of Charles laughing and dancing with a girl who was definitely not Francesca—and definitely not me.

I zoomed in on the photos, my mind racing. The girl was tall, platinum blonde, not honey blonde like Francesca. She had a body language that screamed confidence, and a body that curved in all the right ways. She was leaning into Charles, her hand on his arm, whispering something in his ear that made him laugh. They looked like they were having a great time, completely at ease with each other.

The post went on to speculate about the identity of the girl, suggesting she might be a model or an actress, someone from outside the racing world. Seemed like the comments were already narrowing down the possibilities of who she is. The tone was scandalous, implying something more than just a friendly interaction.

I felt a pang of jealousy, mixed with confusion. Who was she? And why was Charles with her, so publicly, when he was supposed to be focused on the race weekend—and Francesca? I couldn't shake the image from my mind, the way they looked so comfortable together. I know he often goes to clubs and parties, but never before the race.

I scrolled further, finding more posts, each one more diabolical than the last. Some hinted at a possible breakup between Charles and Francesca, others suggested he was just blowing off steam before the big race. But the photos told a different story, one that was hard to ignore.

That's when a new tip landed in: a video that was close enough to get a good look at them. My heart pounded as I clicked on it, unsure of what I was about to see. The screen flickered to life, showing Charles and the mystery girl in a dimly lit corner of the party.

They were standing close, too close for comfort. She had her hand on his chest, her fingers lightly tracing patterns over his shirt. Charles was leaning in, his hand resting on her waist, fingers splayed out in a casual yet intimate gesture. They were laughing, their faces inches apart, and it looked like he was whispering something in her ear.

My chest tightened as I watched. She leaned into him, her hand sliding up to his shoulder, then around his neck. He didn't pull away. Instead, he seemed to pull her closer, their bodies almost touching. They moved together, swaying slightly to the music, the rest of the party seemingly fading into the background.

The next video: them sat down on a couch, still close. Her legs were draped over his, her head resting on his shoulder. Charles' hand was on her thigh, his thumb gently stroking her skin. They looked so comfortable, so natural together, like they had done this a thousand times before.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the screen. The intimacy between them was undeniable, and it felt like a punch to the gut. Who was this woman? How did she fit into Charles' life? And why was he so openly affectionate with her? Wouldn't he know better now that there's always a camera somewhere?