Hopelessly Devoted ☆ Pierre Gasly

XXVIII

"Sorry," Pierre mumbled.

Juliette opened one eye. "Hmm," she hummed and closed her eye again.

She heard and felt Pierre was turning in the bed, softly pulling the blanket with him. A deep sigh rolled over her lips, and she was about to fall asleep again until the moment hit her. Juliette's eyes flew open, and she looked around; I'm at Pierre's.

It was in the middle of the night, around four o'clock. Yet Juliette was wide awake now. Her heart rate started to rise, and she stared at the ceiling. It had been a while since Juliette had someone sleeping next to her in one bed.

But this was Pierre.

Pierre Gasly.

And she had sex with him.

Heat rose to her cheeks, and a few butterflies flew in her stomach. A part of Juliette was panicking, like really losing her shit, but the other part was calm and got it all under control. It felt safe, like it was normal to be around each other, it felt good.

Juliette turned her head in Pierre's direction and looked at him. The curtains weren't obscuring enough - or they weren't fully closed, so Juliette could see him. He looked so peaceful, so beautiful. His hair was messy, it made Juliette softly smile; it looked adorable. How could he make her feel safe?

☐

Juliette's eyes shot open, and she looked at the tv for the time: 8:30. Her eyes widened, and panic flew through her body; she was getting late for work. She looked next to her and saw Pierre still was asleep. More panic. Juliette got up and quickly, but quietly, put on her clothes. There was laying a pen and paper on the table. She walked over to it and wrote down:

'I'm late for work. Sorry. Xx'

She quickly put on her shoes and grabbed her bag. There was no time to check if she had everything. Juliette opened the door and left. Before the door closed, she heard Pierre saying her name. She stopped walking and turned around, but the door already fell in its frame. "Shit," she whispered.

When she was standing in the lift, she checked herself in the mirror. She didn't look awful, but also not great. "I'm sorry for the next person," Juliette mumbled and put on some deodorant and perfume that she found in her bag. Her hair was quickly put in a low bun. It was just her luck; she wasn't any makeup, she was too lazy for it yesterday.

The bus wasn't leaving until 8:45, so Juliette had some time left to go to a bar for a coffee and some breakfast, which she desperately needed.

"Buongiorno signora," the bartender said and gave Juliette a wide smile before he continued talking in Italian.

I don't have the energy for this. "I'm sorry, I don't speak Italian," Juliette uncomfortably said and gave him an awkward smile.

"That's not a problem. What can I get you?" He switched to the English language and gave her the same wide smile.

How can you be so happy in the morning? "Can I get a cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso and..." Juliette looked at the breakfast options. "...and a croissant, please?"

"A cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso and a cornetto, coming right up. On the go?"

"Yes, please."

"Excellent," he replied.

Juliette showed him a polite smile and paid for her order. She looked outside, the headache started to kick in—something I don't need as well.

"I haven't seen you here before," the guy continued. "Holidays or..?"

"Formula 1," Juliette answered.