Style // 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙇𝙚𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙘

22.

"You are so hot it pains me." Stella exclaims as she sits on my bed, gawking me up and down. "If Elliot doesn't want to do you tonight then I will."

"Stella, if you were a man, you'd be the biggest manwhore I've ever met." I comment, raising an eyebrow at her. "Like, almost on the verge of being a creepy, manwhore."

"Hey, if I don't hype you up, who will?" She defends herself. "Charles, from another country, with another woman?"

"Hey-!"

"Sorry, that was a low blow!"

Tell me about it! Damn! I turn back to my mirror, regrouping my thoughts after Stella's comment sent them into mayhem. A mid-length, black, tight fit dress with a leather jacket and my favourite black heels that Stella has finally returned. A natural make-up look with a touch of eyeshadow and eyeliner, finished off with a slick back bun. The Charles Leclerc short-skirt-and-red-lipstick look has been banned by Stella, and I'm not complaining. This look is a little less desperate, it isn't desperately searching for male approval. It's subtle, it suits the weather, and damn I feel like a woman (Shania Twain's words, not mine).

"You and Elliot are going to look like a power couple." Stella continues to fuel my self-confidence. "You're hot, he's hot, you're both rich-"

"Stella-"

"What, it's the truth?" She shrugs. "You, me, Mark and Elliot will be that one rich friendship ground in those old fashioned rich family movies."

"You mean those movies where one of them ends up suspiciously dying?" I mutter, raising an eyebrow at her in the mirror's reflection. "You don't even know if me and Elliot will become anything after this, we might stay friends?"

Stella's face hardens as she sits upright, pointing a stern finger at me. "You better not shut down Elliot because of Charles."

"Of course I won't, don't be stupid!"

I have done that before. If anything, I am stupid.

"I think that ship has sailed, he's still not replied to me." I mutter, checking my phone to see not a single notification.

"Good, I hope that ship gets blown up or hits an iceberg on the way out." Stella scoffs. "You should take lessons from Ferrari on how to fuck him over."

"Stella-!"

You know how old people gradually lose that little filter in their head that stops them from saying rude and blunt things? I'm 99% sure Stella has turned hers off. Completely. With old people, you have to accept and laugh at it, because they can't help it. Stella, you also have to accept and laugh, because she won't turn the damn switch back on!

"Right, take some photos and post them." Stella orders, making her way out my room. "If I don't see them on Instagram before you go, I will post a photo of you myself!"

I scoff at Stella as I shoo her out my room, shutting the door behind her. A photo of an outfit before a night out is obligatory. Do I want to post it, though? Not really. To everyone else on my social media, it won't have an effect on them. They'll swipe past it just like the rest of the photos they see. The only person who might see it is Charles, and he'll know I've posted it to get his attention. Do I want him knowing that I'm going on a date tonight?

What am I stressing about? Charles hasn't replied to me for almost a week now, he's paying no attention to me. He's all wrapped up in Charlotte to remember my existence, and my socials.

I walk out my bedroom to find Stella standing against the glass, peering down at the streets below. I immediately get deja vu, reminiscing how I waited for Mark's car exactly like she's waiting for Elliot's.