Picture To Burn [Charles Leclerc]

12. Should've Said No

Even now, just looking at you feels wrong...

***

Aspen White

I was a neurotic wreck.

My apartment was a mess. I was a mess. And I had a famous racing driver right outside my door, waiting for me to open up. Why was he there? I had no clue.

My legs started nervously moving towards the door and after hesitating for a long moment, I opened it. Charles was standing in some baggy jeans and a black sweatshirt. His hair was slightly disheveled and he had barely visible dark circles under his eyes. Almost imperceptible, but I still noticed them. I had never seen him in such a casual attire. It suited him.

But his outfit and hair became unimportant the moment our eyes met. The memories of that one night in Miami immediately came to mind and breathing suddenly turned an almost impossible task.

"What are you doing here?" I shoved all the intrusive thoughts aside.

"Hello to you too, chérie." A malicious grin appeared on Charles' face and before I knew it, he entered my apartment.

"Sure, you can come in." I said as I closed the door, more to myself than to Charles, since he was practically already midway to my living room.

Charles stood there for a moment, admiring my small apartment and then comfortably took a seat in my sofa, as if it was his own house. "You've got yourself a nice place."

"Thank you." I made my way to the parlor as well and stood right in front of him with my arms crossed. "But I'll ask you again, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, this week's race is in Imola but Gina and Nicolas insisted on me stopping by in Maranello first, so I could—"

"I meant my apartment." I cut him off, "What the hell are you doing in my apartment, Leclerc? It's almost midnight."

"Actually, I came by much earlier but your doorman, lovely man by the way, he's the one that let me in, said you weren't home and that some guy in a motorcycle had picked you up." He scoffed,  "I assumed that our dear Italian boy actually kept his word and took you out on a date and I just wanted to hear how bad was it."

Unbelievable. A part of me found it funny. The other was annoyed that he apparently felt so entitled to know what was going on in my life.

"First of all, my private life is none of your business, so I won't tell you a thing." I started.

"That bad was it?" Charles mocked, letting his perfectly white teeth show.

"And second of all," I ignored his comment, "How did you even find out where I live? And how did you get my number?"

"I just asked around in the office." He giggled, "And Lando gave me your number."

Personal reminder: Kick Lando's butt as soon as I see him for sharing away my personal information.

"Right," I rolled my eyes at him, "What do you want?"

"Didn't you read my text?"

Of course I had. But the thought of him not being able to stop thinking about me brought dangerous emotions and it just seemed too impossible to believe.