crashing quietly | c.l.

Cara's POV

Saturday morning was warm. Not in a Spain-is-burning kind of way, but in a soft, sun-on-your-knees, sunglasses-and-sandals vibe.

She and the girls-Alba and Clémence-had wandered down to the beachside café like locals, iced coffees in hand, linen shirts billowing like they had fashion blogs and no stress.

They did not, in fact, have no stress.
They had Charles Leclerc-related stress.
And the problem was, she was fine.

Too fine.

Alba clocked it immediately.
"Okay. What happened last night."

Cara blinked. "What?"

Clémence sipped her coffee. "You're glowing."

"I washed my face?"

"You glowed less after your actual facial. Spill."

Cara tried to play dumb. Failed immediately.

"...We talked."

Alba sat up. "You floated in a pool next to a shirtless Charles for 40 minutes and just talked?"

Cara stayed quiet.

Clémence leaned forward. "Did he tell you how he feels?"

She hesitated. "Not exactly."

"But you know now."

Cara nodded, cheeks warming. "Yeah. I know."

They both squealed. She nearly walked into the ocean.

⸻

Meanwhile-
Charles' POV

"Dude."

"I'm just saying-"

"Don't."

"I'm just saying," Lando repeated, dragging the shopping cart dramatically down the aisle, "you've got it bad."

Charles rolled his eyes. Carlos smirked beside him, scanning a row of pasta sauces like this was a tactical operation.

"I don't 'got it bad,'" Charles said.

"You literally stared at her while pouring cereal this morning and MISSED THE BOWL," Lando declared.

Carlos laughed.

Max, standing at the end of the aisle with a basket full of frozen raspberries and existential despair, raised an eyebrow. "You did."

"It was ONE TIME."

Lando stopped walking. "Are you gonna tell her?"

"I don't know."

"Bro," Carlos muttered.

Max leaned against the fridge. "You're already telling her. Every time you look at her. Every time you don't leave the room when she's in it."

Charles went quiet.

Then-
"I told her I couldn't pretend anymore."

Lando's jaw dropped. "WHEN?!"

"Last night. Pool."

"You-oh my god-Leclerc, you had a late-night pool scene and you're still not together?!"

"I said I couldn't pretend. I didn't say anything else."

Carlos shook his head. "You're both allergic to happiness."

Max opened a yogurt like he was preparing to emotionally detach from the group.

"I'll figure it out," Charles said.

Lando shoved five bags of chips into the cart. "You better. Because if you two keep dancing around this, I swear I'll lock you in a walk-in freezer and force a confession."

Carlos nodded. "Same."

Charles tried not to smile. Failed.

⸻

Cara's POV

Back at the café, the girls were relentless.

"Do you want to kiss him?" Alba asked.

"Yes."

"Do you think he wants to kiss you?"

"Yes."

"Then what are you doing here with us?"

Cara shrugged. "Overthinking. It's what I do."

Clémence leaned in. "You're allowed to have this. You know that, right?"

"I know," she said softly.

And for once, she believed it.

⸻

Meanwhile...

Back at the villa, Charles stared at his phone.
Drafted a text. Deleted it.
Then finally typed:

Charles:
Dinner tonight. Just you and me?

And hit send.

⸻

no way an actual date!!
just them

VOTEEE AND COMMENT PLSSS I LOVE UUUU