Picture To Burn [Charles Leclerc]

9. This Is Me Trying

I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting...

***

Charles Leclerc

Fuck.

I woke up with a pounding headache and with a girl I didn't remember the name of curled up at my side, tangled in my sheets.

The sex had been good, for what I recalled. Nothing too memorable, but good. She was gorgeous and with an amazing body. The type of girl that you only saw in magazine covers and still, the only thing I wanted was for her to leave my room.

I had a flight to Monaco to catch, or was it to Italy? Anyway, I needed to hurry.

It was getting late, so I woke up the girl. She took a quick bath and got dressed. Before she could leave, I needed her to sign an NDA, which she did without protest and then proceeded to leave without asking any questions. Just like all did.

Last night would've been a completely forgettable one, no different to many others, if it only hadn't been for a certain black haired girl with moonlight skin that seemed not to be able to get out of my head.

Aspen White was everything I disliked in a person: stubborn, controlling and way too prideful for her own good. Curiously enough, that was also what drawn me so much to her as well.

I had been just fine before she arrived last night. But the moment I saw her standing at my door, wearing that white dress that complimented her so well, I needed to know why she was there. I wanted to hear her voice and look at how her delicate face progressively angered while talking to me. I wanted to look at her for a little longer, because she was such a delight to see.

From the very first moment I had set my eyes on her, I knew she would be a dangerous one. Intriguing and beautiful for sure, but still dangerous.

Because she certainly knew how to get on my nerves.

We had an argument last night. The exact same discussion I had had with all of the people that were close to me. But for some reason, none of them had affected me as much as her. A part of me, the one that enjoyed the banter with her, had wanted to piss her off, but in the process, she was the one that had managed to get under my skin.

I hated that she acted like she cared. It made it more difficult not to like her.

But I might have fucked it up and told her some things I didn't mean. In my defense, last night, I had been slightly drunk and clearly, I wasn't thinking straight. But in the heat of the moment, I got carried away.

Her face after telling me that she had wanted me there, celebrating with the rest of the team, would be something difficult to forget. It was the first time I had felt true honesty from her. I was so used to her being alert and professional, trying to play pretend with me, that it definitely caught me off guard. I didn't know how to handle it, so I ended up doing it in the worst way possible: Shouting and telling her all the reasons why I didn't fully liked her.

But I also didn't regret it. The last thing I needed was Aspen, or anyone, feeling pity about me. So I had to keep her at a certain distance.

I had no time for distractions.

"Charles!" An abrupt knock on my door snapped me out of my thoughts, "You better be awake and dressed or I'll send you back to Maranello swimming!"