Chaos on the F1 Grid

Everywhere he went he thought of her; it was like the universe was trying to punish him. They had been messaging a bit, she always started it – usually in the morning. He appreciated the effort, but it didn't change anything for him. At least, that is what he tried to tell himself, every time he got butterflies hearing his phone chime, and hoping it was her. He read through the messages they had exchanged the day before, particularly her saying she would prove she didn't snore. Arthur had called him an idiot for not responding, and Lorenzo had agreed. But in Charles mind there was nothing to say.

Charles: what do you want me to reply to that??

Arthur: I don't know, maybe: prove it how? Sleepover? can't wait!

Lorenzo: or: looking forward to you proving that if it means spending the night together.

Charles: we are just friends, I told you. nothing else.

Arthur: ok... fine.

Lorenzo: you are an idiot, but ok.

He didn't like that his brothers weren't on his side, he was always on theirs. What he didn't understand was that they were on his side, he was the one not on his side. They both saw that his fears were preventing him from letting it go from trusting her. It wasn't that they didn't understand why he was afraid, but they did feel she wasn't going to hurt him again. For Charles, the risk was too great, so he had ignored the message. Not realising how much Eleanore had been agonising over it. he waited all morning that day for a message from her, but it didn't come. He found he was sad, when it came to lunch time and he still hadn't heard anything, which is when he had begun reading the messages back. He decided to text Pierre in the hopes they were still all together and it would maybe prompt a message from her.

Charles: when does the holiday end then?

Pierre: at the airport now, long flight ahead. It has been amazing – girls holidays are the BEST!

Charles: yeah? You had fun then?

Pierre: yes, you should have been here man. I have so much gossip, they made me an honorary girl.

Charles: really??

Pierre: yep, even got to have a sleepover, which was, hands down, the best night!

Charles: like a sleep over, sleep over?

Pierre: yes, with skin care, manicures, junk food, gossiping, and a movie. Also alcohol. I hadn't realised how much alcohol was consumed at sleepovers. Turns out, a lot.

Charles: what was the movie?

Pierre: Mean Girls – I was assured that was the only appropriate movie for my first girl sleep over. It was amazing.

Charles: sounds fun, sad I missed it.

Pierre: you wouldn't have, if you would just tell that girl you're in love with her and want to be with her... she was pretty miserable the whole trip...

Charles: seemed fine in messages.

Pierre: I am sure she did seem fine. I don't know what happened yesterday, but she came back from the pool, and was a nervous wreck, all evening. Still is now. She is picking at her hands like something has happened... so what did you do?

Charles wasn't sure why Pierre would assume he was responsible. All he had done was not reply to a message, that was surely not enough to have led to her feeling so anxious. Little did he know he was completely wrong. The manicure she had gotten in the spa was destroyed from picking at it, and her fingers were raw from where she had picked at the skin, she had barely eaten and not slept at all. All because of one stupid message she was certain had ruined the progress she had made. Charles, of course, thought it must have been for another reason. One completely unrelated to him.