The bet | Charles Leclerc

• Thirty-Two •

Sunday

Sunlight shines in my eyes. My head is pounding. Snuggling the blanket closer to me, I force my eyes shut, sleepy and lazy.

"Looks like she's waking up." Someone points out, scaring me. Who is here? I lay completely still, suddenly scared of who and what surrounds me.

"She's always so beautiful when she's sleeping." I recognize Charles' voice in a heartbeat. It's the perfect mixture of soft and raspy.

Suddenly I feel his hands in my hair. I can't help but smile into my pillow drowsily. Now I can relax. No matter who else is in here, I know I'm safe.

I'm always safe when Charles is around.

"We don't need to hear about that Leclerc" That's my brother. I can always appreciate his deeply annoying, ironic tone.

But I can tell his usual hatred towards Charles isn't in the tone. I can tell he isn't angry. He sounds.. relaxed..?

"Oh shut up Max, he's right. Your sister is always unbelievably beautiful." I know that voice too. Wait..?

That's my Mam.
She's here.
With me..?

"She must've gotten it from you Sophie." That must be Richard. God, never thought I would hear him, flirting with my mother..

What are all these people doing in my room..?

Slowly I blink my eyes open.

Quickly I find Charles, watching over me in the bed, his fingers running through my hair, as he rests his head against the headboard.

He looks as handsome as always.

Then I find Max, sitting on the dresser, a little smile on his lips. Not far away is Richard, leaning against the desk.

We're in Charles' hotel room, I guess, his familiar clothes and items spread across the room.

And there, by the end of the bed, my Mam is standing, shining that soft smile, forming tears in my eyes straight away.

Within a second, I've stood up in bed, and engulfed her inside my arms. Luckily I'm in Charles' Ferrari shirt, only flashing the others with the sight of my bare feet.

"Really Charles? Even when she's sleeping, you have to prove she's yours?" I hear Max jokingly pointing out, commenting on my shirt.

I want to mumble yes. Because I am his. At any given moment. But also because I know exactly why Charles gave me his shirt.

Because he knows that I like to know that he's mine.
That I sleep better knowing, that he's mine, and only mine.

My mother laughs softly into my shoulder, pulling away gently. With her gentle smile, she cups my face inside her warm hands.

"You look lovely dear" My mother says tenderly, stroking her thumb against my cheek, as her eyes study me carefully with love and curiosity.

"Don't lie, I've just woken up." I whisper back, laughing gently. No one looks good when they've just woken up.

Or well, that's besides Charles Leclerc.