a/n: before anything else...happy new year everybody <3 alright let's get back to the schedule
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«Cause you're hot then you're cold. You're yes then you're no. You're in then you're out.»
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He grabbed a pack of gum, his eyes unintentionally focusing on the boxes of condoms hanging above the different selections of gum. Pierre raised his eyebrows and then shook his head. The possibility of getting that lucky on a first date with Salma was not viable, realistically speaking. He took a few steps back, moving out of the way to wait until Charles was done revising every tomato on the vegetable racks.
"Alright, I'll tell him. See you in a bit, mon ange," Charles drew closer to him, hands full and phone pressed between his cheek and shoulder. "I love you, yes. Bye." He feigned a mocking dreamy sigh, while his friend balanced everything in order to be able to hang up the call. "Aurora is going back to London tomorrow and I have to be in Maranello the day after, she asked if you wanted to have dinner with us tonight. Homemade."
As much as he appreciated Aurora's hospitality, Pierre guessed Charles would prefer for them to spend that time alone. He was also...not available. And of course, he wouldn't save that for himself.
"That's sweet of her, but I can't tonight. I have a date." The announcement came as casually as it did with smugness. He tapped his pack of gum on one of the tomatoes Charles cradled with his hand.
This one quirked an eyebrow. Suddenly curious about his plans for the night. "A date?" Pierre nodded. "That's good! You finally got that Salma thing out of your head. Aurora will be proud."
"Well," He clicked his tongue. "The date is with Salma so..."
The expected reaction to this didn't come, because what he imagined from his friend was pure silence, maybe wide eyes if he wanted to get dramatic and enjoy his little victory of morale. Instead of this, Charles laughed. Or more so like a snort. His face dropped, and he waited for him to stop to send a death glare just in case.
"Is this 'date' in your dreams?" Charles questioned, full amusement and invisible air quotes.
Pierre pushed him on the shoulder with his hand, not too hard but sufficient for him to lose balance for a millisecond. The tomatoes nearly slipped out of Charles' grip. "Don't be an asshole. This is serious."
"I'm making sure you didn't suffer from a head injury last season,"
In a swift movement, he fished his phone out of his pocket, navigating to find his latest conversation with the model where there was a very real confirmation of their soon-to-happen date. Pierre tilted the phone so Charles could take a look at Salma's last message. A bubble of text containing the time and place for him to pick her up. The Ferrari driver raised his eyebrows, eyes rereading the words on the screen a couple of times.
"Does that look fake to you?" It would've been fake probably if it weren't for the picture of Salma herself on the little circle in the corner of the chat window.
"How did you manage this?" Charles glanced away from the phone and back at him. "Did Sloane help you? Last I remember she wasn't very fond of you." Okay, fine, Pierre could admit he'd made his fair share of comments for Sloane to find him vexing.
But that wasn't the point. He'd apologise one day, maybe. She'd been an asshole to him as well. They were even. "No, she didn't," Then he thought about it and pursed his lips. "Well, they hosted this party the other day, Max invited some of us, and I guess Sloane got to do the same with her friends. So indirectly she did help."
