𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ~ | 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯

Twist The Knife

~'~

After the horrible race in Austria, I decided to take a page out of Layla's book. Vis-à-vis getting super drunk and ignoring your problems. This had some complications for me because my problem was also in the same club.

Speaking of Max, Layla had told me, more like begged for my forgiveness, that she had drunkenly told Max the whole story. I was mad at her. And hurt. But how could I hold that over her? She was drunk. So I let it slide. And I know that most people wouldn't, it was an awful thing, but I needed her. She was my best friend.

I still didn't want to talk. Not to anyone, especially not Max. Who, for the record, had been relentlessly trying to get hold of me for the past few days? I had ignored him just as he had ignored me.

Karma's a bitch.

I wasn't quite drunk enough to regret anything yet, but just tipsy enough to make reckless decisions seem like fun ideas. After another round of shots with Layla, my legs felt unsteady beneath me, so I stumbled toward an empty booth to regroup. I sank into the plush seat and decided to just watch for a while.

I barely had time to gather my thoughts when someone slid into the booth beside me.

"Finally caught you. Didn't get the chance to say hi earlier," Charles said, his smooth voice cutting through the noise like it was meant for my ears alone.

He leaned back, balancing a drink casually in one hand. His white shirt was unbuttoned just enough to reveal a sliver of chest, adorned with faint, smudged trails of red lipstick. Bracelets clinked lightly at his wrist as he moved, and a couple of rings glinted under the neon lights.

He looked unfairly good, but Charles Leclerc always did.

I smirked, glancing at his chest. "Looks like someone's having fun tonight."

Charles glanced down at the evidence of his earlier adventures and shrugged. "It passes the time." His dimpled smile flashed as he draped an arm along the back of the booth.

I fiddled with my hair, glancing at the crowded room. My eyes instinctively found Max in the crowd, leaning against the bar, head tilted toward someone, but his gaze flicked in my direction more than once. That arrogant intensity of his made my stomach churn and flutter all at once.

"What about you?" Charles interrupted my thoughts, his perceptive eyes noticing too much. "Max's been watching you all night. You've got options. Why don't you snatch one up?"

I scoffed, trying to laugh it off. "I'm fine."

Charles didn't let it drop, his smirk softening into something resembling curiosity. "You and Max... There's tension there. A lot of it. What's the deal?"

My gaze dropped to the rim of his glass. "He's an ass." It came out sharp, and maybe I meant it, but it didn't feel like enough of an answer. Not for Charles, that annoyingly good people reader.

He chuckled under his breath, then leaned closer. "You know..." he said, his tone light, "if you wanted to make him jealous, I could help."

I snapped my head toward him, brow raised. "Is that a pickup line? Because if so, it's only kind of working."

He chuckled. "Not at all," he assured me, leaning back like he wasn't fazed by my teasing. "I'm just a friend, offering my services to another friend. Completely altruistic."

I tilted my head at him. "Why would you even bother?"

"Because I've been there," he admitted with a disarming honesty. "Sometimes you just need someone to help level the playing field. Besides—" he winked playfully, "—I know what I'm doing."