national treasures| Charles Leclerc

twenty-eight

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I can feel the words hanging in the air between us, suspended like a breath I've been holding for years. 

It's strange—there's a moment where time almost stands still, and I realize I've just said something I never thought I'd say out loud. 

The vulnerability of it hits me harder than I expected. 

Asking Camille on a proper date—no racing, no media, no distractions—feels like I'm putting myself out there in a way I haven't since we were kids.

But there's a weight to it. 

A significance. I can't help but feel that this is more than just dinner and conversation. 

It's about us, who we were, and who we could be now. 

It's about a chance to try again, to rebuild something I know we both still care about, even if it's buried beneath the years of pain and distance.

I watch her face carefully, searching for any sign of her thoughts. 

I know Camille. 

She's guarded, sometimes too much for her own good. 

I've seen that wall up close, and I'm sure she's weighing the risks, wondering if it's worth it. 

We've both been through so much, and there's no denying the tension that's always been present between us, but I can't keep dancing around this. 

Not anymore.

"Okay," she says after what feels like an eternity. 

Her voice is soft and steady, but there's a flicker of something in her eyes. 

Something that wasn't there before. "A proper date. No distractions."

Her words hit me like a rush of adrenaline, but this time, it was a calm rush. 

It's not the frantic, high-speed tension I'm used to. 

It's different, more subtle, and yet it sends a warmth through me that I haven't felt in so long. 

I want to reach out, to touch her, to bridge the space between us that still exists even though we've come so far.

But I hold back, because I know it's not about forcing anything. 

It's about us being able to take this step at our own pace. 

She's not just giving me a chance because of the past, because of who we were. 

She's giving us a chance because she wants to. 

She wants to see where this goes, just like I do.

"I'll make it count," I say, my words coming out with more certainty than I expected. 

It's not just a promise. 

It's a declaration. 

I need her to know that this time is different. 

We're not rushing into anything. 

We're not pretending like everything is fine just because we've shared a history. 

This is about moving forward, and rediscovering who we are to each other now. 

Who we can be.

Her smile is small but there, and it's more than I could've hoped for. 

It's not perfect. 

She's still wary, but there's something more in her expression now—trust, maybe.