“You’re such a tourist,” I said, but my voice had lost its edge.
He didn’t respond right away. Just pulled out his phone and started filming the mountains below.
“Hey guys,” he whispered to the camera, “this is your captain, Charles, speaking. Except I’m not the captain. I’m just the terrified passenger. But my incredibly cool fiancée is flying this plane, and I think I’m in love with her.”
I turned toward him, eyebrows raised. “Did you just soft-launch me on Instagram Stories?”
He smirked, unapologetic. “They should know I’m dating a badass pilot.”
------
Once the adrenaline settled and we hit cruising altitude, the air between us quieted, easy. The clouds drifted around us like soft, slow waves, and the headset static gave everything a kind of strange, suspended peace.
“So,” he said, “what else are you hiding from me?”
I glanced sideways. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, first you’re an engineer, and a strategist, you can also create incredible setups, you know how to drift better than half the grid, in addition to being an impeccable mechanic, let's not forget that you know how to speak at least 4 languages, and to drive Formula 1 cars, and now you fly planes? What’s next? Secret agent?”
“I’m not a secret agent,” I deadpanned.
His eyes widened slightly. “Wait, are you serious—?”
“No,” I laughed. “But I’m glad I got you.”
He gave a playful shove to my shoulder, and for a few moments, we just… smiled. That quiet kind of smile people wear when they’re not trying to impress anyone. When things are soft and still and good.
“You know,” he said after a beat, “you’re kind of the coolest person I know.”
I snorted. “Well, I am flying us over the Alps.”
He leaned back in the seat, finally looking relaxed. “God help me, I think I love you more now.”
I rolled my eyes, though I was smiling. The headset thankfully hid how warm my cheeks got.
Then, he glanced at me with a sudden burst of mock outrage. “Wait a second—this whole time, I’ve been dragging myself through airports and layovers between races, and you could’ve just flown us?”
I laughed. “You never asked.”
He placed a dramatic hand over his chest. “Unbelievable. All those early flights, the delays, the screaming babies... and you’re just casually out here with a pilot’s license like it’s nothing.”
I shrugged, biting back a grin. “Guess you’ll have to adjust to a new lifestyle, monsieur Leclerc.”
“Oh, I’m adjusting,” he said, narrowing his eyes in mock suspicion. “But now I need to know—what else are you hiding?”
“Nothing,” I said sweetly.
He raised a brow. “Right. Okay, quick quiz.”
I groaned. “Please no.”
“Too late. Do you know how to ski?”
“Yes.”
“Of course you do,” he muttered. “Surf?”
“Yes.”
“Skydive?”
I hesitated.
He pointed at me. “That’s a yes.”
YOU ARE READING
Pole Position: Between Logic and Passion
FanfictionAmy has always been driven by logic. As a strategy engineer for Ferrari, her job is simple: make the best calls to lead the team to victory. But there's one problem-or rather, one driver. Charles Leclerc. Impulsive, stubborn, and annoyingly talented...
