Chapter Text
Despite the promises of friendship, she doesn’t really see Max between Vegas and Abu Dhabi.
Which makes sense really. It’s a whirlwind trip back to Monaco, before being placed on a jet once again to fly to the UAE. Most of her time is spent in meetings about ‘bringing the fight to Mercedes’ for the P2, but there’s a definite lack-lustre feeling through the Ferrari garage. The Santa photoshoot has come out too, crossposted to varying degrees of engagement. Some people say it’s fun and festive, some repeat the same spiel of ‘I remember when this sport used to be about racing’, and approximately 15 million Regina George ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ memes have been sent to her by Lando and George. She discovers most of this on her lunch break during media day in Abu Dhabi whilst scrolling idly, doing the exact thing her therapist has told her repeatedly to stop doing (looking at her Twitter replies).
@ScuderiaFerrari ☑️
Charles and Carlos have been replaced by the Claus-ses! Our drivers get festive ahead of the #AbuDhabiGP2023
Alt Text: Ferrari drivers Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz in Mr and Mrs Claus costumes- Sainz is stood in front of a sleigh with his arms crossed, and Leclerc is sitting atop it with her legs crossed. She is holding an oversized candy cane.
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@ellalovesf1
Ferrari win the best teammates award for sureee ❤️❤️
@forzasixteen
MOTHER omfg i love her (carlos is there too ig 🙄)
@grusselgirls
frr she is everything + he’s just ken vibes
@ferrarifan_99
My Charlos heart can’t handle this 😭😭❤️❤️
@lucas_short96
Dunno how Carlos Sainz works with Charles Leclerc, I’d just wanna shag her too much 🤣
@formuladank1
She defos lets him hit after the race, let’s be real 😂
@lucas_short96
Yeh, Singapore must have been wild haha
@fourtyfoursupremacy
male f1 fans try not be awful about the female drivers challenge 😍😍 (FAILED)
@lucas_short96
Shut up DTS fan ur driver is washed
All in all, a mixed bag. She blocks @lucas_short96 and @formuladank1, and puts her phone face-down on the table, going back to her salad.
The last media day is always a bit odd when the championship is decided. One person rounding out a season of glory, the other 19 fighting for points that don’t really matter, journalists asking stupid questions.
Said journalists with said stupid questions are currently speaking to Lando on her left, asking about the hopes of beating Alpine in the Constructors. They’d just been with Carlos but with the progression along the sofa, Charles expects they’ll come to her next. Though what more they can ask, she really doesn’t know. It’s hard to answer questions about contract renewals and her potential new teammates when the looming presence of Lewis and Fred’s private meetings hang over Maranello like an omen.
A constant chant of ‘he’ll-win-one-before-you-he’ll-win-one-before-you-before-you-before-’
‘And Lando, we were asking your teammate earlier about her summer break plans, what about you? A welcome break from a busy season?’
‘Uh, yeah, I think so. Seeing family and that, spending time with my friends. It’ll be nice to play golf, and padel, and uh- yeah, just do things I can't really do during the season.’
‘Ah, so the padel craze has uh, hit the McLaren garage as well?’ The reporter chuckles. Lando huffs a little laugh in reply, fiddling with her cap as she speaks.
‘Uh, I think maybe me more than Osc, but- yeah it’s fun. Living in Monaco we’ll get together to play, sometimes. Me and Charles actually have a match with Max and some friends during the break.’ She glances at Charles who boggles back, bewildered.
Charles’ GCal is scheduled very finely, even during the winter break. She has a rough plan for every day, even if that day consists merely of one reminder saying ‘Coffee w/ Maman ❤️’ or ‘Call Andrea!!’.
All this to say, to the best of her knowledge she has no reminders, no colour coded boxes that mention playing padel with Max, Lando and whoever ‘some friends’ end up being. She tries to communicate this to Lando by meeting her eyes, but unfortunately the mention of her name has seemingly made her the next target for a round of questioning. So she plasters on a smile and holds her mic up to her face.
When they’re filing out and back into the media pen, she turns to Lando.
‘When did I agree to play padel with you?’
‘Huh?’ Lando’s looking at her phone, and glances up, uninterested. ‘I texted you about it weeks ago, what do you mean?’
‘No you didn’t! When even is it?’
She shrugs. ‘Dunno, need to text Max and Martijn first.’
‘Martijn- I agreed to play padel with Max and Martijn Garrix? Was I drunk?’
Lando huffs, and properly puts her phone away, staring at Charles.
‘Why are you being weird about this?’
‘I’m not, I just wish I knew it was even happening-’
‘No, no, no- don’t bullshit me.’ Lando's hand is held mid-air, silencing her. ‘If these were last minute plans with just me, you wouldn’t be like this. And you like padel, and it’s the break so it’s not a Ferrari thing either.’
‘I just- I like to know in advance before- before I see people.’ She finishes, dumbly.
Lando raises one eyebrow at her, suspicion etched all over her face.
‘Is this a Max thing?’
‘What-’
‘Oh my god.’ Lando cuts her off, sounding exasperated. ‘It is, isn’t it?’
‘It’s not a Max thing!’ Charles exclaims
‘What’s not a me thing?’
She wheels around, to where Max is leaning against the wall, watching their exchange with a confused expression. Charles can sense Lando gearing up to cause more trouble, so she cuts her off.
‘Nothing! Just talking about the padel game.’ She smiles, twirling the ends of her hair, and pointedly avoiding Lando and her raised eyebrows.
‘Ah yes, it will be good I think. Lando, have you texted Martjin yet?’
‘Nah, he’s doing a set this weekend, there’s no chance he’ll reply.’
Max nods at her, and turns back to Charles. ‘Let’s hope there’s no inchidents between us in padel, eh? We’ve had enough in racing.’
Charles grins at him. ‘Only if you don’t play dirty this time, Verstappen?
‘I won’t if you don’t, Leclerc.’
‘I never would, I’m a lady.’
‘Well, I can think of a French puddle that would disagree with that-’
‘Ok! I’m gonna go be part of a conversation that’s not this one.’ Lando says, patting Charles’ back before walking back down to hall to catch up with Pierre. ‘See you guys on track!’
Charles watches her go, feeling slightly guilty. Maybe she was too in her head about the padel thing. It’ll be fine. She enjoys the sport, and whilst she’s only met Martjin a couple of times, he’s a nice enough guy. She’ll have fun, for sure.
It’s not fun.
In all of this, Max and Lando somehow completely forget to mention to Charles that Martjin Garrix, is not only a ridiculously famous DJ but a padel god, single handedly saving their shots that embarrassingly soar past Charles’ side of the court. And he’s so annoyingly nice too, never mentioning how much she's letting their doubles team down. Max and Lando are not being as nice, and after an embarrassing leap that was meant to be a masterful save (but just ended with her face down in the asphalt), they’re bent over, clutching their stomachs laughing.
‘Guys come on, don’t be mean!’ Martjin’s saying beside her, but he’s also concealing giggles. ‘Why don’t we switch?’
‘Partners?’
‘I’ll go with Lando for a bit, even out the playing field, yes?’
Charles can’t help but feel pitied, and as Max shoots her a friendly smile on her left she curses Lando internally.
The next few matches end less badly, but maybe because Martjin and Max, the two best players are slightly distracted by the cameras in their faces. The unfortunate incident of Lando mentioning the match in the conference had led Netflix to hastily pick up their equipment, send emails to their respective press managers and ask if a few clips of them playing during the off season could be filmed for Drive to Survive promotions. Quoted as taking ‘only 15 minutes’ in the email Sylvia had forwarded Charles, they’ve managed to find excuses to hang around for a good 10 minutes more than they should be.
And it’s fine really. Selfishly Charles enjoys that her current, more improved shots are the ones being captured, so perhaps she’ll be able to pass off her padel skills as much better than they are. But it’s getting pretty annoying now.
Martjin and Lando seem sort of okay with it. Except from earlier, when a camera had been a bit too close to the net and Lando had said ‘watch out, mate’ (in a tone that didn’t make the cameraman sound like her mate at all). Charles hoped for Lando’s sake they hadn’t filmed that, because it really wouldn’t help with the idea people had of Lando being slightly spoiled (the internet’s words, not hers). They hadn’t really done much to Charles, except asking if she’d take her sports jacket off for the shot, which was harmless enough, if a bit creepy.
Max was getting pissed though. She could tell in the hard line of his shoulders and the way his tone was much more curt every time he yelled the updated score. It was only after Netflix had truly had no more reason to hang about that he relaxed, and despite their loss, he was smiling as they left.
‘We will play better together next time, I think.’ He says, as they walk out behind Lando and Martjin.
‘Unless I become a padel-genius overnight, I highly doubt that.’
‘You were good though.’ He frowns, looking so genuine Charles has to laugh.
‘Very funny.’
‘You were! Just a bit of uh- fine tuning needed. We should do more practice soon’
‘Okay.’ She shrugs. ‘Your problem when I break the racquet or something.’
‘So- you’d want to play again?’ Max sounds surprised, and stops to actually look at Charles. ‘A game between us two?’
‘Yeah. Why not?’ She smiles at him, and walks over to Lando. ‘You're still driving us back, Lando?’
‘Yup. Georgie’s getting pissy though, since we’re a bit late.’
‘Shit- what time is it?’
‘Half four.’
Charles tilts her head, confused. ‘But- we were meeting at 5, no?’
‘Yeah but. She’s worried about having to be alone with um-’ Lando looks around at Max and Martjin, and then shrugs. ‘Ah who cares, it’s frickin’ obvious anyways. She doesn’t wanna have to be alone with Alex for too long.’
‘Oh.’ Max says from Lando’s right.
‘What?’
‘Nothing. I just-’ Max cuts himself off and smiles. ‘It’s not my thing to say, really.’
Lando raises an eyebrow at him. Charles wants to enquire more, but Martjin’s saying his goodbyes and she loses her opportunity. When he’s gone, Max speaks up again.
‘Where are you guys going with Alex?’
‘Girl’s night. We all go home after for Christmas, then it’s training, so-’
‘And Alex- Alex comes to girl’s night?’
‘Duh.’ Lando says, exasperated. ‘I don’t think Alex has ever once registered as a boy in my mind. Like ever.’
‘I take it I don’t meet the requirements for girls night then?’ Max jokes, as the valet driver brings his sports car round.
‘Nope.’ Lando says, grabbing Charles' sleeve and pulling her towards the swanky McLaren waiting outside for them. ‘Not even close mate. It’s an elite circle.’
‘Sorry.’ Charles shrugs, grinning. ‘She’s right.’
‘I’ll have to rework my application next time.’ Max begins to walk away towards his car, and turns at the last second. ‘Charles, I’ll uh- text you about padel?’
‘Yeah.’ She feels her mouth curl into a smile, and she looks at Max’s retreating figure for a second. It’d be nice to play again, without world famous DJs or cameras.
‘C’mon. Car. George will literally kill us.’ Lando tugs her towards the car, and they’re pulling onto the road a few minutes later.
‘Why is she so early anyways? We’re not late, she’s just ridiculous.’
‘It’s an Albono thing, I guess.’ Lando says, as she cranes her neck round a corner. ‘What was Max talking about?’
‘Huh?’ Charles looks up from her phone.
‘Like, about that padel thing he mentioned.’
‘Oh. Yeah, he said we should play just me and him, so we can make a better team next time.’ She goes back to her scrolling, but she can still feel Lando looking at her, so she looks up. ‘What?’
‘He wants to play, just you two?’
‘Yeah.’
‘He’s so weird man. Why doesn’t he just ask you on a date like a normal person would?’
‘Lando, it’s really not like that-’ She laughs, but Lando’s firm tone cuts her off.
‘It better not be, alright? Do y’know how much of a mess that would make?’ Lando beeps loudly at some guy who cuts out in front of her. ‘And besides, we’ve got too much on our hands with Albono and George, eh?’
She says this with a laugh and a poke in Charles’ direction, but there’s still a steeliness in her eyes.
‘Yeah. Definitely.’ Charles agrees, but there's a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach as they drive.
It’s only when George calls, and over the speaker of Lando’s car hisses at them both to ‘Hurry up, the waiter just called Alex my boyfriend and he laughed-’ that Charles lets it pass.
When they arrive at the restaurant, George is sitting at their table, face austere and pinched. Alex is nowhere to be seen, but his jacket is slumped on the seat next to George’s so presumably he’s nearby. When she spots them heading over, George’s shoulder visibly relaxes, though her face remains hard.
Other than her sour expression she looks very nice. Regal almost. She’d once said in an interview that Kate Middleton was her style icon, and after googling who that was, Charles had had to fight the urge to text George and tell her how ridiculously British she was.
Lando hadn’t cared, and had sent a screencap of the interview and then a 2 minute voice note of her shrill laughter, calling George ‘a royalist twat’.
But she did look lovely. Brown curls tumbling down her shoulders, white knit jumper and cartier necklace glinting in the low lighting of the bar/restaurant they'd agreed on for ‘a Girly catch up- plus Alex xx’ (as George had put it in their group chat a week ago).
‘I am going to run you both off the track in Bahrain.’ was her greeting to them.
‘Sorry George,’ Charles winces, sitting down and patting her hand across the table. ‘Padel went on a bit.’
George sniffs, looking unimpressed, and feigns a scan of the drinks menu- despite the fact there’s a half-drunk soda water right in front of her.
A few beats of awkward silence passes between the three of them.
‘Right, you’re just being stupid now.’ Lando says, breaking it. ‘Sorry we’re late, but he’s your best mate, you can be around him for two bloody seconds-’
‘Lando-’ Charles hisses, but she’s interrupted.
‘Charlie!’
Alex’s bright voice cuts through the awkwardness, as he walks over to their table.
‘Albono!’ Charles replies, with a fondness in her voice she couldn’t hide. ‘Was wondering where you were.’
‘Couldn’t keep the Golden Girls waiting for long.’ He grins, swooping down to place a stupid, MWAH kiss on both hers and Lando’s heads. Before sitting back down, he does the same to George, who flushes so red Charles could’ve sworn her jumper briefly looked pink.
‘Eh-’ George splutters slightly, staring down at the menu as though her eyes are going to laser-cut holes right through it. ‘Right, okay, well let's order then.’
The awkwardness manages to subside once they begin talking. For all her protests of not being able to be alone with Alex, he and George seem to fall right back into old ways very quickly.
They all do, once they've had one or two drinks.
‘No-, absolutely not-’
‘It’d be funny, cmon-’
‘George- if you answer that, I cannot ever speak to you ever again. I am serious.’ Charles finds herself saying, pointing a threatening finger at George.
‘I would marry-’ George begins, laughing through her answer. ‘I would marry Logan, fuck Arthur-’
‘NO!’ Charles shrieks, head in her hands. ‘That is my baby brother, you pervert-’
Lando cackles with laughter to Charles’ left. ‘And so you would kill-’
‘And yeah, I guess I’d kill Vesti?’ She finishes, holding her hands out in a little ta-da way.
‘I hate you.’ Charles says, glaring daggers at George, whilst Lando and Alex continue to laugh. ‘My little, baby brother, how could you?’
‘Charles, he’s only two years younger than us-’
‘Two and a half!’
‘This is awful.’
‘Anyways, bigger question- why’d you marry Sargeant?’ Lando says. George shrugs in response, taking a sip of her Chardonnay.
‘His family are minted. I’d be set for life.’
‘So you’ve not got a secret thing for blondes then Georgie?’ Alex grins, nudging her slightly.
In this lighting, his own white-blonde hair looks near fluorescent,and Charles doesn't miss the way George's eyes dart upwards at it before coughing slightly.
‘Uh- well, no, not necessarily, I don’t uh- mind. She coughs awkwardly again. ‘I’d be impartial to a blonde. Um. A blonde bloke.’
‘Right.’ said Alex, grinning slightly. ‘Uh- I need to pee. Don’t have too much fun without me, eh?’
He grabs his phone off the table and heads off, but not without a small glance back towards the table.
‘I’d be impartial to a blonde?’ Lando repeats, incredulous. George throws her head on the table and groans so loudly the neighbouring table looks over, slightly alarmed.
‘I am such a sad excuse for a girl.’ She sighs, but it comes out a bit muffled against her forearms. ‘I mean,’ Her head lifts up slightly to free her voice. ‘Why can’t I be normal around him? I’ve known him since the beginning of time-’
‘2009.’ Lando supplies, glancing at Charles.
George sits back up and takes a generous gulp of her wine. ‘And I've liked him for pretty much most of that. Over 10 years of us being mates, and I’m going to ruin that because I can’t control all my-’ she gestures around herself vaguely. ‘All my big bad feelings.’
Charles takes her hand across the table. Lando follows suit with her other one.
‘I know it’s a bit of a mess now, but-’ Charles searches for the right sentiment. ‘It’s you and Alex. And you have us.’
‘Yeah. You may be a sad excuse of a girl, but you’re our sad excuse of a girl.’ Lando grins.
‘We’re all sad excuses for girls.’ Charles adds, with a poorly attempted wink.
George flips them both off, but there’s a twinkle coming back into her eye.
‘And uh-’ Charles begins, hoping she’s going for the right angle here. ‘You could always just tell him?’
‘Yes, put us out of our misery.’ Lando says, tone light, although George doesn’t laugh.
‘Guys. Stop.’ George looks at them both. ‘We’ve had this discussion before, and I just couldn't do that to him.’
‘George, it’s not just you. Put him out of his misery. That poor boy’s been waiting for you since the minute you binned things off with De-Vries’ brother-’
‘Yes!’ Charles agrees, but perhaps a bit too emphatically because any twinkle in George's deep brown eyes has vanished.
‘No. Stop bloody suggesting it or I’ll start a DRS train and fuck all your races next year.’
‘DRS train?’
Alex had returned, holding four shot glasses with a clear liquid sloshing about inside.
‘That’s my expertise, c’mon now.’ He sits back down and places the shots in the middle of the table.
George laughed, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She handed Lando and Charles their glasses and went to clink them together.
‘George-’ Lando said, hushed, so only the three of them could hear. ‘Are you good-’
‘Yes.’ George said, voice clipped around the edges. ‘Yes, let’s do our shots.’
The conversation was over, that much was evident. With a nervous glance at Lando, Charles threw back her shot, letting the liquid burn away the unsaid words in her throat.
‘I think I pulled something during padel.’ Lando’s muttering, stretching her shoulder as their Uber pulls up. ‘Jon’s gonna murder me.’
‘How was it? Padel. I was texting Max about it before.’ Alex asks, clambering awkwardly into the uber and attempting to manoeuvre his long legs so they aren’t all squished together.
‘Martjin and I won.’ Lando says, with a little grin despite the fact she’s still massaging her shoulder. ‘Oh, and Max and Charles are going to play padel. Together. Alone.’
She says this final word with a pointed glance at Alex and George. George’s eyes widen a bit and she frowns, but Alex just nods like he’s being told the weather forecast.
‘Yeah, the charity match right?’
‘Huh?’
Alex looks at her, confused.
‘Max was telling me how he had to get one of the other drivers to play this charity padel match with him. I had kinda thought he’d ask Daniel or someone but you two would be a good match-up.’
‘Oh.’ Charles says, dumbly.
She doesn’t know why the information that Max was asking her to a PR event, rather than just hanging out has unsettled her stomach slightly. Her two glasses of wine are making their presence known, and she feels a bit embarrassed now for prematurely checking the court availability of their local place.
Alex is right, it would be a good match. It’d be one of the more enjoyable PR activities, and Syvlia would be very happy at the chance to show off the new Ferrari athleisure-wear line.
And she knows, the weird pedestal people put her and Max on together. Basically the same age, both lauded as generational talents, fierce rivals in their junior days. The beautiful, kind ‘Il Predestinata’ saviour of Ferrari, versus the unfiltered rude Dutch boy who was essentially born to be behind the wheel of a car. She’s never really seen the wonder or symbolism behind it all, but, like.
She gets it.
Whilst Charles is mulling over this new information, Lando is beaming from the other side of the car, has stopped massaging her shoulder and began twirling random curls of her hair.
‘Well thank fuck for that.’ She says, leaning back comfortably in her seat.
‘Huh?’
‘I was stressing. Thought Max was like, trying to hit on her or something.’
‘Would that be so awful?’ Alex says, a hint of reproach in his voice.
‘Well, yeah. Can you imagine how much of a shitshow that would be?’ She says, laughing slightly. ‘It’d end in tears for all of us. I mean, I’ve already got enough on my hands with-’
She cuts herself off, flushing a bit red.
Her hand had briefly- but unmistakably motioned between George and Alex, and then her eyes suddenly widened as she realised her mistake. There’s a horrible beat of silence where George looks like she could cry, and Alex just looks confused.
Lando moves her hand to massage her shoulder again, a poor attempt to hide her mistake. She coughs loudly.
‘Anyways, that match’ll be a laugh. And er- charity too, innit so that’ll be great for them. For the uh- kids, or whatever.’
‘Yeah.’ Charles says, with a little smile that feels forced on her face. ‘You guys could come and watch it, I guess.’
Thankfully, their Uber’s pulling up to their first stop a minute later- Charles’ apartment. She gives them all as good a hug as she can (since they’re seat-belted and she’s standing), thanks the driver and hops out. She only feels slightly guilty about leaving the three of them with the tense atmosphere, and she almost appreciates the night air nipping her face as she buzzes herself in.
She hooks her jacket on the designated spot once she’s through the door, and toes off her shoes. It’d only been when she’d stood up from her seat to leave the restaurant she’d clocked that she’d drunk a bit more than intended, so she decides to raid her fridge for something to line her stomach other than pre-planned meals in tupperware.
After finding a saving grace in a loaf of bread and some jam, she’s sat cross legged on her counter chewing at her toast, thinking. The marble’s cold under her and she curls into herself as she gazes at a scratch on the counter that’s been there since she has. Aside from the gentle wind from the harbour, the apartment is dead silent. Until,
Her phone buzzes.
New Message from: Landooo 😘
omg how much did I fuck it in the uber haha (00:54)
george’s so pissed at me like actually (00:54)
She types one-handed, other one still clutching her toast, and continues chewing.
maybe you should text her tmrw to just check in (00:56)
nah tbf though i acc can’t take anymore of this (00:57)
george doesnt get how much her n alex can be lol (00:57)
Charles frowns. She takes another bite of toast before setting it down on the counter.
i guess (00:58)
She feels her phone buzz again after setting it down, but she ignores it in favour of food, even though she’s down to the crusts now.
She’s still somewhat hungry but she knows Andrea’s already not gonna be happy with her for the wine, so she ignores the sounds of her stomach. Then, she picks up her phone again, but this time opens it onto her chat with George.
i hope you had fun tn ❤️ text me when ur next free during the break !! (01:00)
It’s only about ten minutes later, when her phone flashes a response at her as she loads up Netflix (although she can’t think of a single thing she would want to watch). Her screen reads,
New Message: George R👸🏻💜
Will do- loved seeing you n lands xxx (01:09)
She reacts to it with a heart, and goes to message Andrea to let him know that she may be a bit hungover for their session tomorrow. And then, her eye catches on a conversation a bit lower down.
Max V- one unread message
It’d been from a few weeks ago, when he’d randomly sent a screenshot of a McLaren meme (more specifically about Lando), and said that ‘None of my other friends know her like you haha’. It’d been funny, but it had also been utterly random and the first message Max had sent in perhaps 2 months. Not for any really malicious reason, they just had very little need to text each other outside of the season (or during it).
Maybe it’s the shot of vodka, or the glasses of wine, but she finds herself opening it. The one existing message floating there is just two laughing faces from him (which she’d interpreted correctly as a clear conversation ender), but-
She finds herself typing.
hello- (01:12)
No.
hey, about padel- (01:12)
No. A bit too blunt.
hey! how's it going? about padel, should i email my press team + can you send me the details about all the charity stuff? should be fun :) (01:12)
She reads it over, but can’t find any really awful flaws in the message. She hits send and throws her phone down, so the red phone case is pointing up at her, taunting her. Netflix isn’t presenting anything interesting, so she just gives up, and heads in the direction of her bedroom. Her phone remains silent, and she falls asleep easily enough.
As predicted, the hangover causes her to sleep through most of her alarms, and so she leaves for her session with a rush, chewing a banana and locking her door simultaneously whilst he buzzes up.
Since it’s still technically her ‘break’, they only do a light jog and stretch, and spend most of it catching up. He jokingly wags his finger when she mentions the alcohol consumption from the night before, but they sit and have coffee and even split a cinnamon bun, so she knows he’s not really annoyed.
All this to say, she barely looks at her phone most of the morning, and it’s only after her shower and call to her mum she clocks that she’s gotten a response from Max.
Max V (One unread message)
Yeah, no worries. I’ve sent the info. Will be fun beating you at something that isn’t racing 🙃 (09:38)
She huffs slightly, and smiling, types a response.
it’s for charity, cmon now... joking i can’t wait to prove you wrong haha (13:09)
She doesn’t expect a response soon, so she just saves the attached info off her email and goes back to fiddling with her hair in the mirror. She tries to ignore the deflated feeling in her stomach that it’s confirmed- Max was talking about some PR event, was probably asked to ask Charles to play and wouldn’t ask to just hang out. They're still friendly, she’s still playing against him. It shouldn’t mean anything but-
But it does. She just really wishes she knew what.