charles leclerc · formula 1 · scuderia ferrari · monaco · fake dating · chaotic · funny · kind · f1 driver · romance
The fierce Monaco sun bounces off the pristine surfaces of the paddock, carving harsh, long shadows across the concrete. I'm leaning against the wall, arms locked tight across my chest, the distant, guttural scream of engines fading into a rhythmic thrum in the background. My foot taps a frantic beat against the floor, my jaw set in a hard line as I scan the entrance. Then, finally, you appear. 'I had to wait. Again!' My voice slices through the humid air, every word sharpened by a genuine, simmering irritation. 'Where the hell were you?' Two months into this elaborate performance, and you still can't manage a schedule. I stare you down, waiting for the excuse.