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viennakarma · 1 month ago

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Just the Same

Lestappen x Reader (Part 1)

Summary: After many years, you finally found your soulmates, but what happens when they're in an already established relationship and you become the odd one out?

Word count: 4.7k

Tags: Female reader, established Lestappen, soulmate AU, angst, daddy issues, trust issues, max is a lil mean (he's overwhelmed), not beta read

Relationships: Lestappen x Reader

Notes: Thank you so much to the anon who sent this request! I'm sorry it took me so long to finally get to it, but I was writing it slowly. Anyways, here it is, part 2 is halfway through so let me know if you want to be tagged and what you would like to see in it! Comments and feedback are appreciated.

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You always had that emptiness of missing your soulmate. It was an uneasy feeling, not too painful, but still it was a feeling that was always lingering there, somewhere deep down. It got worse as you got older, and you saw your friends, family, everyone eventually finding their halves, falling in love, getting married.

It got particularly hard during holidays, when you’d sit around with your family and their soulmates, and you’d be all alone, wishing and praying you’d find yours.

Eventually, you’d find yourself browsing the government website where they talked about what to do if you never find your soulmate, support groups and the last resource, medicines to deal with soulmate absences. Many people lived a good, healthy life even if they never got to meet their soulmate and you started to try and make peace with the fact that you never might.

You laid awake, staring at the soulmate tattoo on your wrist. It was a monogram of your initial and the initial of your soulmate, but it only had your initial and it’d be complete the moment you and your soulmate first touched. You had looked at your parents’ tattoo many times when they weren’t looking, too busy staring lovingly into each other’s eyes to notice you.

You were walking the shore, it was a warm summer night, you had just watched the sunset by yourself, sitting on a bench with an ice cream cone. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck prickle, and you quickly looked around trying to find the reason for that strange feeling. The pier was considerably full, people coming and going, a lot of locals and tourists, so it was hard to tell where that feeling came from. You kept walking and looking around when you stumbled into someone, hard. So hard it had you falling on your ass on the ground. You looked up to see one of the most handsome men you had ever seen.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” He said politely, offering a hand to help you up, but as soon as he pulled you up, you felt your soulmate mark tingle, and when you looked, a letter C showed up on top of your own initial, and as you looked at his wrist, both of you shocked, your initial showed up on top of his own monogram.

“Oh, my god…” You whispered, noticing his monogram wasn’t just his initial, it had another one too, an M, “What…?”

“I think… we might be soulmates…” Charles said with a startled giggle, “I’m Charles, by the way.”

You said your name back and offered a hand, exchanging a handshake and it felt good, a special kind of warmth spreading through your chest.

“I- I thought I already had found my soulmate…” Charles said, suddenly, “but…” He touched his own tattoo, “we might be a trio.”

Charles smiled as he offered his hand, and you took it, letting him guide you wherever. It didn’t matter when the feel of his touch was so soothing, so right.

Trios of soulmates aren’t common, but they’re not exactly rare. You had met a few through your lifetime, and your own grandparents from your maternal side were a trio of soulmates. Charles seemed eager, happy, and you allowed yourself to be just as giddy, he spoke fast, in a heavy accent looking like he was besides himself for having found you.

“I… I had always had this lingering feeling that something was amiss, even after I met Max, but I thought it was just my mind playing pranks on me… Oh, by the way, Max is my boyfriend and soulmate, and he’s probably yours too!” Charles was speaking a hundred words per minute and you could only smile at him, as he invited you to his car, to drive you to his boyfriends’ place, for you guys to meet because he could bet Max’s initial would join his on your soulmate mark.

When you arrived at a fancy building, Charles guiding you to the elevator, you two looked at each other. Charles was flushed and breathless, looking happy.

“Max, mon coeur!” Charles called out as he dragged you into a big apartment, your hands intertwined together.

Max was a big guy, blonde, tall and handsome and his gorgeous eyes had your breath hitching on your throat when they met yours for the first time, the same feeling of the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. He had a confused face as he came out of one of the rooms, his eyes immediately dropping to Charles’ hand around yours.

“What is this, Charles?” His face was stormy, like he was getting angry.

“She is it. She is our soulmate…” Charles said, tugging you forward, closer to Max and you could see his contempt, like he didn’t like that one bit, it made you cringe internally, wanting to look good, to leave a good impression.

“I don’t think this is right…” Max said, carefully picking his words. You could sense his hesitation but you could also see how he was being careful to not hurt Charles’ feelings.

“It is, look!” Charles showed his soulmate mark, your initial now engraved on top of the C and the M.

Charles, for his part, looked so excited that he failed to notice the tension, Max’s hesitation and you with your stomach dropping to your feet. You felt crushed, the giddiness and the happiness you had felt meeting Charles now dampened by Max’s evident displeasure with all of it.

Despite being painfully aware of Max’s dislike of the situation, for a while you thought it was just the suddenness of everything, of him being used to only Charles as a soulmate. You attributed it to him being caught by surprise.

So you gently removed your hand from Charles’ and offered it to Max in a handshake. He hesitated, taking a couple of steps back, pretending to be busy with something else. You dropped your hand back to your sides.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said with a tentative smile, despite the weird feeling of a knot in your chest tightening, making your insecurities bloom, your eyes meeting Max’s again.

Slowly, you started to be included in their routine. You knew that if it were by Charles’ decision, you’d probably have moved on day one. But you needed the space to adjust to the idea, you spent so long thinking you would never find your soulmate that finding out there were two of them was a little unnerving. And also, to let Max adjust to your existence, as he seemed a little reluctant still.

So you started getting to know each other every Wednesday night, when you usually went to their places, and you ordered food and chatted about life, about childhood, family, everything and anything.

And so, Wednesday dates became twice a week, and then two dinners and a lunch, and soon, you were part of each other’s routine. An intricate routine was built as it went, your meetings, your dates, they flying you out to the places they went for pre-season.

Despite integrating into each other’s lives fairly quickly, you still were keeping a safe distance, you had not kissed or even made love yet. You knew you had to take things slow, adapt to the change as much as you wanted to jump in head first. Max was… trying. You could tell he was trying, but he had a hard time adapting to abrupt changes. Charles called you over one time, alone, to explain that Max needed some time and patience, and even when they first got together, he had a hard time adjusting to a soulmate, to feeling them, to get familiar with the person and the avalanche of emotions that came with them.

It took a couple of weeks for Max to touch you, for your soulmate marks to grow complete.

You were flying overnight with them in Max’s private plane, you, reading a book in one of the seats, Max across from you on his phone. Charles was long gone, lying on the bed inside the other room, sleeping soundly for a couple of hours, through the night flight. You could feel Max’s gaze on you every few minutes, sometimes you looked back at him with a lazy little smile. You had put on a few of your PTOs to accompany them to the first race of the year, to try and get yourself immersed a little more in what seems to be a great part of their lives.

You tried staying awake, shouldering through the pages of your book, forcing yourself to read it. But the exhaustion was slowly creeping up, the letters starting to blur.

You blinked, and when you realized, you were waking up, feeling your soulmate mark tingling slightly. You looked up, Max was carrying you, the strong scent of his cologne filling your lungs, his warmth around you as you blinked again, confused.

“Sleep now, I’m taking you to bed,” He muttered, and it was the softest you’d ever heard his voice address you as.

You didn’t say anything as you felt him place you on a soft bed, low lights as you closed your eyes, feeling Charles’ warmth again. After a little sleepy scooting, you were half asleep between both Charles and Max. Charles’ legs between yours, his cheek against your shoulder on the right side, Max to your left side, pulling a blanket on top of you three. His arm reached across you, laying on your middle and his hand landing on Charles, like he wanted to feel both of you in your arms. Before fully falling asleep, you stared at his wrist, your initial finally joining his and Charles’ on his skin.

With a soft smile, you felt the happiest you’d ever felt, cocooned between the two loves of your life, relaxed as you fell asleep.

When you woke up again, a few hours later, Max wasn’t in bed, he was back at his seat, talking on his phone, while Charles was awake beside you, lazily doom scrolling, his legs still tangled with yours.

“Slept well, mon coeur?” He asked as he noticed you waking up.

“Yeah, I did…” You mumbled, rubbing your face, “Did Max sleep?”

“Yes, for a couple of hours. He doesn’t sleep much during flights. Why?”

“Did you see?” You whispered, almost giddy as you raised your hand to show him your wrist, mark now complete as Max finally touched you. Charles smiled softly, pulling your hand and placing a gentle kiss to your soulmate mark.

“See? He’s warming up…” Charles whispered back, eyes shining.

When you arrived in Australia, going straight to the hotel, smiling with Charles as Max made the check-in, your stomach dropped when the receptionist talked about “Two rooms”, not just one for you three. You gulped as Max gave you one of the keys, took the other one as he took Charles’ hand in his.

Your eyes dropped to their hands, and when your gaze met Charles’ he knew, you could see the same hurt in his eyes as in yours. You followed them into the elevator, and your room was right beside theirs. With a lump in your throat, you didn’t trust yourself to look at them one last time before entering, so you just didn’t, the first tears falling down your cheeks as the door clicked shut behind you.

After a quick shower, you sat in bed, wrapped in a robe telling yourself that this was fine. You’ve met them only a couple of months before, it was natural that they’d take time to adjust to you. Despite reading and hearing all about things like once you meet your soulmate, you never want to be apart from them, nor them from you.

It’s fine, you whispered to yourself again.

Around an hour later, Charles texted you to get ready for breakfast, and the puffy of your eyes was long gone as you dressed in a casual little dress and went downstairs to the restaurant to meet them.

Both were already there as you joined, walking towards them, you noticed how they checked you out, and that was almost enough to forget the fact you weren’t sharing a room with them, you chatted some more over breakfast. Despite Max being still slightly distant, you could see he was trying. Trying to talk to you, actively listening to your answers, joining in conversation.

Later that day, they ended up having to go to media day, which they asked if you wanted to go with. They said there wasn’t much going on, and for that exact reason you decided to go, it’d be better to get around the paddock on a day that it wasn’t full of people.

They showed you around, and that moment Max was slightly more talkative than he’d ever been, probably because it was a comfortable subject for him, talking about racing, about cars and tracks. You loved hearing him explain, talk about his passion, what he did on the daily and his routine there.

At some point, Charles left to record something with his team, but you and Max barely noticed his absence as you listened to the champion talking. Then, someone found you two and said Max had to go.

Max left you at the hospitality.

“Will you be okay here?” He asked, reaching into his pocket.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. If anything happens I’ll text you or Charles,” You said, and he held up your paddock passes, gently placing the string around your neck.

“If anything happens, you can go back to my room. You remember how to get there?” Max said, pulling your hair atop the strings of the passes.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Thank you, Max.” You whispered with a soft smile and he nodded, seemingly hesitating to hug you or something like that. You watched as he stepped back and went with the team person.

You ate, drank and opened your ipad to do some work, sitting in a far corner of the hospitality room, hoping the headphones would tune out the loud noises of the paddock.

Charles found you first after a couple of hours, he crouched before you, hands on your knees, looking soft.

“Tired of waiting?”

“I’m okay,” You said, reaching for him, gently brushing his hair that was out of place.

“Do you want to go back to the hotel? We might take longer here…” He offered, and you hesitated, despite wanting to stay, you were still somewhat sleepy from the overnight flight.

“I guess I could use a nap, and I might need to go shopping. I didn’t bring many weather appropriate clothes.”

Charles had a driver take you back to the hotel, after a short nap, you went out in the city to buy some clothes for the following days. During your shopping spree, you ended up going to a salon to do your nails, and on a whim, you decided a change would do you good and the boys might appreciate it, and you had the hair stylist darken your hair, and you chopped it off, shoulder length, a cool and fresh haircut.

When you arrived at the track, Charles was the first to greet you, a gentle smile as addressed your new look.

“Oh? Changed your hair? It looks nice, it’s so pretty.”

“Thank you, I thought it was about time I tried something new…” You preened under his praise, turning to Max, hoping to please him somehow.

“You look good,” He said with a little smile while Charles rolled a strand of your hair on his finger, softly feeling its texture.

You don’t tell them you did it to somewhat look more like Charles, to get Max to like you. And the way their eyes lingered softly on you… it meant something. Something that had you feeling a nice little warmth in the pit of your stomach.

Over a couple of days, you three grew more comfortable around each other, especially as you were the one coming into an already established relationship. So you really wanted them to naturally grow easier around you, you didn’t push, but every morning you had breakfast together and dinner too. You liked it, the routine, the softness of easy conversations about life, learning more about theirs, making plans for the future.

That same weekend, the race was… bad. Really bad for both of them, but especially for Max. Charles had started P5 and unfortunately ended P7. But Max… Had started P2 and due to a couple of race incidents and one 10 second penalty, ended up P13. According to what you heard from the race commentary it was his first actual bad race in quite some time. And you could see in his eyes the way he was fuming post-race.

During their post race commitments, you stayed out of their way, you knew they’d have press and meeting with their team, so you stayed at the Ferrari hospitality, grabbed a bite while you researched some way to help their de-stress later, maybe a swim in the hotel pool, or just soaking in the big jacuzzi in their hotel room.

After a couple of grueling hours, you decided to go find Charles first, since he’d probably be in a slightly better place mentally than Max. You went to his little room, but he wasn’t there. A helpful member of the staff said he had gone to see Max, and suggested you went there too.

You made your way through the maze of people towards them, grabbing a couple of small chocolates to give them. Charles had mentioned once that a little sweet treat would always lift their moods after a tough day.

As you arrived at his room, you could hear their voices through the thin walls, and it took you a few steps to notice they seemed to be arguing. You stopped before you could make your presence known, standing behind the door.

“-Look, I know you’re frustrated, the race today was fucking nuts…” Charles started, apparently trying to calm down Max.

“All of this sucks. But you don’t understand… because you’re you…” Max replied, still agitated, “You are kind and welcoming, but this is not cool with me, okay?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t do changes like you, Charlie…” Max sighed, seemingly unable to put into words whatever was plaguing him, “I feel so… I don’t know. I just hate that my car changed, that I’m battling it as much as I’m battling other drivers week in, week out. You’re also changed, Charlie, and I’m- here. And there’s…” Max’s voice died for a moment, and he whispered your name. The sound of it, the contempt in his voice… it had you rooted to the spot.

“What about her?” Charles asked, his voice almost shaky, as if he knew exactly where this was going.

“It was better before!” Max snapped, his voice an octave higher because of the outburst.

You froze, the weight of his words landing right on your chest like a deep, dark blow. Dread filling your lungs and aching like acid as you held onto the wall.

“You don’t mean it,” Charles whispered, sounding disappointed.

“It was, you know that! N-now because of her, we have to rearrange our schedules, and adjust our whole lives to fit her. When it was perfect the way it was before!”

“Don’t say that, Max,” Charles muttered, sounding hurt, “that’s awful.”

“Don’t pretend like this isn’t a lot of change for us, Charlie. We have the same life, we travel the same places, we are almost always in the same time zone, the same bed, face to face. She is not from this life. And now we have to stretch our already packed schedule and life to accommodate her. Do you think this is fair to me?”

Silence. A silence that spoke volumes, a consenting confirmation that Charles probably felt the same. That all your trying, all your efforts amounted to nothing in the grand scheme of things. You were just you and they were Max & Charles, 2-in-1, soulmates, halves of a whole. There was no space for you, there was never another spot available in their midst, in their bed. You were always set to fail, to be the stranger in their relationship.

You stepped away from the room, unable to put yourself through hearing more, walking aimlessly through the paddock. That had been enough for your heart to take, to understand its place in all of this. Even in their lives, there would never be any space for you. You’d never mean to Charles the same as Max, and you’d never mean to Max the same as Charles.

Trying not to cry, you swallowed the thick, painful lump in your throat, eyes red as you fought the tears, to not pull any unwanted attention to yourself as you blended with your surroundings.

You were like one of those sad soulmates stories you had read in forums on the internet, the loose string that would never fit with their counterparts. They could even love you as any soulmates did, but did they like you?

How long had you walked aimlessly? You didn’t know, but eventually, you heard your name being called by Charles, and you turned in time to see them waving you over. Max seemed moody, still, but slightly calmer, controlled.

“We were looking for you,” Charles said with a soft smile, one that made you break a bit more inside.

“I was a bit lost…” You said, unable to hide the redness in your eyes and nose.

“Are you okay?” Charles asked, and that caught Max attention, who stared at you more attentively.

“Yeah… just sleepy, I guess.” You lied, which they seemed to buy.

You three ended up going back to Monte Carlo a couple of hours later, both of them not finding any reason to stay there any longer. You kept quiet and distant most of the time. You sat in your seat, trying to read a book but your mind was elsewhere. Your mind was in the decision to make knowing you’re not wanted somewhere and make yourself scarce.

“Hey,” Charles said, and you looked up at him, “We’re going to bed to catch some sleep,” He pointed towards the small room with the big bed you three had slept on, on the way there, Max had changed from his t-shirt into a fluffy sweater, “Wanna come?”

You shook your head softly, “Let me just go through some more of my book. I’ll join you later, okay?”

He nodded, a gentle squeeze to your shoulder as he went to bed. You watched over your book when he joined Max on the bed, both of them cuddling softly, whispering things you couldn’t hear, intimacy you weren’t privy to.

The odd one out.

You stared at them for a few minutes as they fell asleep, Charles’ face tucked into Max’s neck, his arm around the monegasque, pulling him flush to his side. A blanket pulled up to their waists, cocooning them in warmth and affection. Sharing something you would never be part of.

Your eyes watered as you looked away, trying to tune out the ugly envy that wanted to rip through your chest and flood you. Because you wanted that, so much that the knowledge you won’t have any of it, made your chest constrict in tiny little pieces. The tears fell down after the first hour of their sleep, a sob ripped through your chest but you quickly covered it with your balled up coat, trying to breathe through it, to tone it down. You cried silently for the next few hours, trying to force yourself to stop, but every time you remembered Max’s words, a fresh wave of tears came over you.

Eventually, before sunrise, you managed to go to the bathroom and pull yourself together just enough to let the swelling in your face go down. You managed a nap in the reclined seat, never daring yourself to go to bed with them, despite how much you wanted it.

You woke up with Max touching your arm to wake you up, saying something about putting the seat belt to land. You walked with them quietly to the car, letting them sit together in the back seat while you went to the passenger seat. Max noticed, but he didn’t say anything as Charles sat down beside him, leaning against his shoulder.

You met his eyes through the rearview mirror, looking away after a second.

Whispering, you told the driver the address to your place.

“You’re not coming with us?” Max asked, and you just shook your head.

“I have some work things to fix.” You lied, not looking back at him.

It worked differently with trios. If the three parts were apart from each other, then they all would suffer those symptoms. But if two out of three were together, it didn’t matter much. The two would still feel the lingering absence of their third but they could ultimately live a comfortable, happy life. Your own grandparents, back in the day when Grandpa Joe passed away unexpectedly, your Grandma Everly and Grandpa Harold still managed to live together comfortably despite feeling the absence of their third.

So in a way, you knew Charles and Max would be fine without you.

You, on the other hand, would take the worst of the pain.

And you were already feeling it, the shake of your hands as you stepped out of the car, quietly. Unnoticed. There was a tight knot coiled in your chest, and as they drove away and you went back home, you could feel it about to snap. You held back as best as you could because you knew the moment you got home it would snap. And break you forever.

And break you it did.

The moment you walked inside your place and the door was safely locked, your first sob ripped through your throat like a thunder, and you allowed your legs to wobble until you slid your back down the wall, until you were nothing but a pool of tears and heartbreak.

It’s a complicated thing, this feeling, this urge to be with them bellied your need to make them happy. But the knowledge that they were happy before you… without you… it stung. And if that was the way to make them happy, you’d do it and bear the short end of the deal. You’d take the pain if it made them happy.

That alone was enough to ease the burning pain in your chest.

So you pulled away.

Forty minutes later, Charles texted you wanting to know if you were still coming over for dinner as you had mentioned in passing during the trip. You lied, telling him you had a family problem to solve. Charles, bless his heart, got worried and offered help. You lied some more saying it wasn’t a big deal.

That’s how you started pulling away, the race two weeks later you had agreed to come, you canceled, saying you had work piled up and you’d have to stay back.

You progressively reduced texting with Charles, deciding to go slow, weaning, so he wouldn’t notice. His calls grew shorter and far between. The wave of heat and comfort you felt hearing their voices, seeing their faces made it worse when you had to hang up the call.

The pain got worse as you stopped talking with them. Your chest would hurt, a pointed pain that came in waves and made your hand press into your chest in a soothing massage.

The less you spoke with them, the pain grew to the point you had to find a doctor. A soulmate doctor who you told you lost your soulmate. Initially she prescribed heart medication, a pill you’d take every morning to ease the aching in your heart. She said that if at any point the pain got worse than the pills could prevent, you’d have to change to the medicine implant.

Soulmates were a complex thing, many times each case bringing complexities of their own, but overall, treatable. The medicine would considerably ease the pain to a liveable point. The depths of their absence will become something manageable, something you’d learn to live with.

edit: guys, everyone asking to be tagged in the comments, will be tagged! just letting y’all know bc I won’t have time to reply to everyone!

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula 1 #f1 #formula one #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #lestappen x you #lestappen #lestappen x reader #max verstappen #charles leclerc #cl16 #mv33

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viennakarma · 2 months ago

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She (lives in daydreams with me)

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: Your life went off the rails, and after hitting poverty, you quickly realized you'd do anything to get a better life. Money moved the world, and you weren't about to let it go that easily. Until you meet Lewis, who shakes your then perfect plans.

Word count: 9.6k

Tags: female!reader, escort!Reader (but not really), more like paid company, high life, client!Lewis, age gap (ages not defined), feelings, complicated relationship, no smut, making out, kissing, a little bit of angst, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Note: This was initially inspired by the ABBA song Money, money, money, but it quickly turned angsty and it didn't vibe with that song anymore, instead feeling a little bit like She by Harry Styles. Comments and feedback are welcomed.

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Murphy motherfucking Law.

You had briefly read that one back before you had to drop out of college. Everything that could go wrong, would go wrong, pretty much. The trainwreck your life had become in the last three years was proof enough of that. Losing your job, having to drop out, going homeless, everything had gone to shit in the last two years and you were on the verge of giving up.

Life was perfect up until your fourth semester of college, when your parents died unexpectedly in a car crash. Your then boyfriend supported you through the grief, and he was a steady hand when you had to go to a full time job after school, working yourself to the ground while balancing school and work.

A few months later, you inherited a small house in Nice from your parents’ will that you didn’t know about. The house wasn’t grand, just a small, cozy home they planned to move into one day after they retired, and it needed repairs that were never done ever since it was built, but it was enough of a safety net. A property to have if everything else went to shit.

And to shit it went. Naive, dumb, fucking stupid, or whatever you had been calling yourself these days, you had trusted Luke, your boyfriend, way too much. And in retrospect, you should have seen the glaring red flags. But no, due to the loans you owed because of college, you thought it’d be an amazing idea to put the recently inherited house in his name to be safe from the banks who would take it if you failed to pay your debts. Well, the betrayal came from the one person you trusted your life with when Luke sold the house, got the money and disappeared.

Between the heartbreak, the grief and the need to work to support yourself with only one income now, everything snowballed right on top of you, and it swallowed you whole. You were evicted from the apartment by the campus you were living with Luke up until then, you had to work double to afford a new smaller flat and groceries, your grades and school work dropped significantly, and before the following semester started, you had to drop out. Almost at the same time, you were fired from the spot you were working on the campus, it was to alumni only. You lost your job and while trying to find a new one, you got evicted again. Homeless, a few weeks couch-surfing with friends that slowly stopped being friends as your existence in their spaces became a nuisance.

After that, you dropped everything and decided to go to Nice to try and retrieve your inherited house, to try and sue Luke to get it back, or at least the money to get it back. Working odd jobs here and there, working on your french. It was a shitshow. A losing battle because you had put the house on Luke’s name on your own free will, and Luke was able to prove that.

That’s how you ended up in a shitty rented room above a cafe where you worked your ass off day and night to afford the bare minimum to live. And you had nothing, no one to trust, no one to take care of you for at least a day.

The weight of it was daunting, exhausting and you felt like at any moment, it would crush you and put you in a slump you’d never get out of.

After closing the cafe for the night, you went upstairs to the small rented room where you lived now. It looked more like a closet and had a small, pitiful leaky bathroom. Your whole body ached in places you didn’t know could ache after working a double shift on your feet at the cafe. Your tears, mixing with water under the streaming shower were a recurrent act now, you only not cried when you were too tired to allow yourself to shed some tears.

As you laid on the thin mattress on that poor excuse of a bed, you stared at the tiny window that led outside.

That wasn’t life. You knew it, it felt stuck, wrong, and hopeless.

Muffling your own sobs with a hand, you felt your resolve building up slowly, formed, steady. You finally stopped crying once you felt you had to do something instead of slowly wasting away.

You’d turn your life around, or die trying.

A year later, you were holding a flute tightly in your hand, the expensive, sequin dress you wore was uncomfortable with the small pieces of sequin biting into your skin with every strong movement. You looked around the ballroom where the event was taking place, your eyes scanning the room for someone more, than the half-assed investor that had brought you as his plus one.

This event, full of rich and influential people - some more than others -, was your opportunity to take the next step. Find a new target and sink your claws into them. A chance to climb the social ladder even if you had to do that tooth and nail as you’ve been doing for the past year. You adjust the rented, couture dress you had been wearing, one you had to skip many meals to afford. It was dark, balancing elegance with a sensual low cut on the back, with tiny specks of sequin on the front.

The man you had come with, Miller, was busy talking business, which gave you the opportunity to walk around and try and find another target. A better one.

You saw a man, tall, salt and pepper hair, not too handsome, but looked the right age, a little above fifty probably. Those were the generous kind, a little interesting sometimes. He was dressed like every man there, but as you could notice, his tux had been tailored, which gave him a more polished look and set him apart from the group of men he had been chatting with. He also wore a Rolex, one of those classic, unassumingly expensive styles.

You were about to go there to walk by, charm him, when you felt a presence right behind you. You didn’t startle. Looking scared in the middle of these people was the same as bleeding in a pool of sharks.

“Are you looking for something, pretty thing?” He said, a smooth, accented voice. You turned to see him holding two flutes of champagne in one hand, removing the empty one from your hand and replacing it with a full one. You calmly sipped the champagne to gain some time to reassess. Recalculate.

Lewis Hamilton. You knew him, and honestly, who in Monaco didn’t? When you first moved to Monte Carlo from Nice, you had researched the most desirable bachelors in the small country. Lewis Hamilton was topping most lists you came across. Him, and other racing drivers, especially for Formula One. They were superstars there.

When you got invited as a plus one to the event, you knew he would be there. He was probably the star of the night, to be honest. That was a dinner party for the investors of the team he works for in Formula One, after all. You just thought he was out of your league. And targeting him would be selfish, if not plain dumb of you. Going from a barely millionaire investor to a billionaire racing driver? It was a step too long for your short legs.

Still, charm goes a long way, and getting in his good graces even if for a few minutes could pave the way for better work opportunities for you.

“Just taking a breather,” You finally smiled softly at him, you politely said your name, even if you knew he’d forget in a couple of minutes, “nice to meet you.”

“I’m Lewis, nice to meet you,” He said, checking you out in a way he probably thought was discreet.

You chatted for a few minutes. Lewis was charming as you were, and he didn’t flirt too much. He was a handsome man undeniably, and there was this brightness about him. You were laughing at something Lewis said, when you felt a hand on your lower back and Miller was suddenly beside you.

“Hey, Darling. Lewis, good to see you,” He said politely as he interrupted our conversation. Lewis smiled as he looked from you, to the man, looking at him up and down, as if trying to make sense of how beautiful you were plus one of that man, “We should go find our seats, darling, dinner is about to start.”

“Bye, Lewis,” You smiled softly before leaving. Lewis watched you go, the arm snaking around your waist.

You walked into the brand event with your arm hooked around Steve’s, the older, salt-and-pepper, rolex-wearing guy from the previous event. You had managed to charm him after dinner at that other event, sliding your card before him on the table as you were leaving.

Funnily enough, from across the room, Lewis spotted you, looking even prettier than last time, a beautiful, diamond studded necklace hung around your neck, and the longer part hung low between your breasts, enticing between the low V-cut of your dress.

But, you were hanging from the arm of another man this time. That was how he realised exactly what you were. Beautiful, paid company.

As the night went on, you mingled with Steve and his associates, mostly by his side as he preferred. At some point, you got up from the table to find a waiter and get a fresh glass of champagne for you, and whisky for Steve.

You had just gotten the Whisky when you heard his voice.

“We meet again, Birdie” Lewis pointed out, coming to stand beside you, looking around, and you huffed amused at the nickname, “Hard day at work?”

His voice was still as smooth as before, but now there was an edge to it. He was fishing to know about your job, which, to be fair, seemed like he already knew what it was about. You were not sure if he genuinely wanted to know, or if he was trying to shame you into a gotcha moment. Either way, you couldn't care less, you had lost shame long ago when all you felt was cold and hunger, longing for things you could not have when you could not afford to have a roof over your head and food on your table.

“No, tonight is a calm day at work,” You finally replied, calm, collected to wait and find out if he was going to become annoyed about it.

After a brief, unsure silence, he turned to you, fully.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” He smiled, as if to show he was not bothered by your line of work as paid company, “Diamonds suit you…” He looked down at the low cut of your dress, “Bigger and brighter ones would look even better, though.”

It was a cue to you. Flirty, but somewhat respectful. But you knew now how to turn it up just a notch, just enough to leave him hanging.

“If you can afford to,” you said with a brief, reserved smile. You looked into his eyes, the challenge, to a somewhat amused smirk. You both knew he could definitely afford it. But the provocation was just enough to set his eyes into a mischievous glint.

Hook, line and sinker.

With a polite nod, you walked away, back to Steve to hand him his whiskey. You were aware of Lewis’ eyes on you the whole time, as you slid the glass on the table in front of Steve, a pretty manicured hand on his shoulder, just slightly touching, before you sat down beside him.

The rest of the night, you kept seeing Lewis here and there, but ultimately avoided him. It was a dangerous tactic, just tantalizing a little bit, just being in his line of sight but never going too close or engaging in conversation. Most of the time it worked, to keep a man’s attention, to keep him wondering, looking. But it was a shot in the dark, some men would easily lose interest and look for some easier company. After some time, Lewis stopped looking at you and you thought, well, you blew your chance up.

But before you were about to leave, going to the bathroom to retouch your makeup, he cornered you on the way out of the bathroom.

“How do I contact you, Birdie?” He asked.

“I thought you talked sweeter than that,” You said with a chuckle, putting your lipstick back inside the purse and you got one of your cards, work name and phone number. You kissed the card, your freshly applied lipstick leaving a pretty print on it; then you carefully slid the card into his pocket, careful not to touch him.

It took a few weeks for Lewis to reach out. He didn’t call, he just texted. He invited you for an event he needed a plus one. On the day, he sent you a car that took you to a beauty salon, where you were already expected by the staff who did your makeup and hair. The whole treatment was a big step up from the previous men you had accompanied.

You changed in the salon, the dress, also carefully picked and bought by Lewis, was stunning, and clearly, better than all the previous ones you had worn in this line of work, quality wise. It was silk, rouge, with an elegant fit, high neckline, half low cut on the back and a discreet slit in the direction of your left leg.

His driver picked you up at the salon at six, and you tried to swallow the sudden wave of anxiety. Up until then, your clients had been small fish, who just wanted some pretty eye candy to their side on the events. Most would usually take you out for a dinner where you spoke about the job, about expectations and talk details.

As you arrived at his building, someone from his security team escorted you up to his floor. When you entered, Lewis walked up to you to welcome you. He was wearing slacks, a half opened button up shirt, and socks, probably in the middle of getting ready. He kissed your cheeks, his hand politely on your shoulder, then he pulled back to look at you.

“Just as I envisioned, stunning,” He murmured, looking you up and down.

“I think we should talk business, Lewis,” Your voice was calm, not betraying a single sign of nervousness anymore.

“We definitely will, Birdie,” He guided you into some sort of study, that had the most stunning view of Monaco, “but I need to finish getting ready.”

He showed you a small bar in his study, told you to help yourself, and had you sitting down and waiting for him. You calmly walked around his study, looking at the view, the side that had a view to the ocean. You skipped on the drinks and poured yourself some water, you never drank before negotiations.

Bored, you decided to check the bookshelves that took up a whole wall, fingers tracing up the spines of the books as you read their covers. You stopped in a part about business, a couple of titles that had been required back when you were attending university. Books you couldn’t afford to buy. It was like the call of a distant life, seeing the memories through water.

You were sitting on the leather couch, curled up with the book, reading the first few chapters when Lewis entered, now fully dressed with suit and tie, braids back in a bun.

“I’m sorry to leave you waiting,” he walked in, sitting across from you. As you put the book away, his eyes caught the title, “Business, huh?”

“Always good for a girl to keep herself informed,” You said, not giving away much.

“So, should we talk business?” You straightened your back at his words, deciding to bite the bullet and say the main thing.

“I don’t sleep with clients,” You said. That seemed to catch him off-guard, but he managed to hold back before he spoke too much, “the job is genuinely paid company. I go to events, and do what was previously agreed on by the two parts. Some men like to be seen with a pretty woman, some like me to be affectionate during the events, some require me to be smart enough to hold conversations about politics, economics, science…” You paused for a moment to let him assimilate, “If you’re looking for a more… um- physical relationship, then I believe you should find someone else to work with.”

“Alright,” He said, sighing, “I still need company for the event tonight, though. And you’re dolled up for it.”

After you two took that out of the way, you talked about money, about how much your hour cost, about how he expected you to act, and most importantly, how he was the one to come up with outfits, hair and makeup for you if events were to happen again. You had a contract and he had a non disclosure agreement. After fine tuning everything, you both signed.

The event was a closed dinner party, super elegant, but camera and phones free. You and Lewis seemed to get along well, and he introduced you to his associates as a friend. You knew you weren’t friends, per se, but over the course of the night you two evolved into a rhythm that was smooth as a well oiled machine. You were quick to catch up to conversation, to read between the lines and adapt to context needs.

You also had a bit of fun with silly gossip Lewis would tell you about his associates, which made the company even better. Lewis could notice you were smart, knew a little bit of everything, enough to keep an engaging conversation going.

At some point, the men surrounding Lewis went on about his contract renewal. Asking questions about why it was taking so long, prodding about his team’s intentions and goals.

“Lewis, dear,” You started sweetly, “Will you accompany me for a drink?”

He had barely nodded as you gently grasped his hand and guided him away from the men, and before you walked towards the bar, you pushed him towards a small, empty balcony. You two stood side by side against the railing, silently.

“You looked like you needed an out,” You whispered, sounding understanding but not asking for more.

“Thanks. I really did.” It was all he said.

“Do you want me to go fetch you a drink?”

“Water, please.”

You went back inside, taking your sweet time to grab his drink, knowing he might need a couple of minutes alone. Then you returned, handing him his water.

“You’re good at this…” He chuckled, and seemed a little better.

“At fetching water?” You teased him with a playful grin.

“At anticipating someone’s needs.”

“I’m just a bit observant, that’s all.”

After that, he decided it was time to leave.

When Lewis’ driver dropped you home, you waved goodbye, thinking it would be the last time you were gonna see Lewis. Clearly, he was expecting you to do sex work at first, and seemed disappointed by the lack of it. So you imagined he wouldn’t be hiring you anytime soon if at all.

After a shower, you laid down on the bed, as your phone pinged, a notification of some more money to your bank account. You didn’t understand why, since he had paid for your services previously. But as you opened it, above the many zeros with the number, the title read “Tip :)”.

Lewis didn’t contact you again for a couple of months, and you thought, “that’s it”, until two months later he texted you to ask if you were free the following Saturday for an event he was dreading going to alone.

After the second event with Lewis, you connected with more clients, better ones compared to before you met Lewis, but none of them even compared to him, not with class, looks or money. But work was work and you weren’t picky with it.

From then on, Lewis started hiring you on occasion, only for work related functions. Until one night, you were home, washing dishes in your new apartment, still small, but a cozy and comfortable place, very different from the place you were living at a year before.

And your phone rang, you picked up without even checking properly, as you were with airpods on, while hanging up a new set of blinds. Only when you heard the way Lewis whispered Birdie, you stopped.

“Lewis? Are you okay?” You asked, after hearing his laboured breathing.

“Are you busy now?” He asked.

“Well, I-” But he cut you off.

“I’ll pay you double your usual rate if you can come over right now…”

You paused, confused. But the promise of double had you hesitating for a moment. You were just doing decorating, nothing that you couldn’t do another time.

“Please, Birdie,” He said as you took too long to reply.

“Okay. Yeah. Send me your location.”

Less than twenty minutes later you were at his apartment building, wearing basic jeans, a sweater and no makeup, a considerable change from what he was used to seeing you wearing. As he opened the door, you immediately noticed he looked slightly agitated.

“You okay, Lewis?” You asked and he just shook his head.

“I don’t want to be alone right now…” He took your hand, guiding you inside.

You hesitated for a moment, trying to read the situation but Lewis looked out of sorts, a look you’d never seen on him before. You two sat side by side on the couch, your hand on his knee as he played with your fingers.

“Is it work stuff?” You finally asked, leaning back on the couch, and he did the same as you both turned your heads to face each other.

“Yeah. The team offered me a contract. It’s a 1 + 1, which means only the first year is guaranteed, and the second year is optional.”

“I thought it would be good to finally have the contract deal…? What’s the problem with a 1 + 1?”

“It’s the timing, man…” He huffed, clearly frustrated with the contract, “If they decide to ditch me for the second year, I’ll have no other options of a seat in any other team. It’d be a moment where all the other teams have set contracts with their drivers.”

“That sucks, Lewis. I’m sorry…” You whispered, genuinely feeling for him, “Have you considered other options?”

“I am considering now…” His voice died down as he stared at the ceiling.

You ended up staying for a few hours, Lewis telling you about his connection with his team and how he didn’t want to lose that. How he had them as family and some interesting stories about the people there.

“At some point, I believe you’ll have to let go of that. Sometimes, we gotta put ourselves first, even if you have to give up some things along the way…” You whispered, staring at the view from his penthouse.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” He pointed out.

“No… nothing like your rich people problems,” You chuckled, a little awkwardly. Lewis chuckled about your choices of words.

“I haven’t always been rich, you know?”

“But I bet you weren’t poor as an adult, were you?” You finally looked at him. He stopped smiling, shaking his head, “It’s just… this isn’t how I expected my life to go. Not in this line of work, not here in this city, not doing… this,” You swallowed, eyes on his and he could see a deep sense of sadness in your gaze.

You closed your eyes, remembering when you were naive and full of dreams. Studying for a degree, hoping to do something, to become someone, to have a steady life, surrounded by your family, friends and maybe a lover.

Lewis looks at you. Really looks. And it’s like the first time he’s seeing you. Not the image you sold, not the professional escort, not the pretty woman with polite smiles that catches whatever someone needs and mold herself into that. No, you were you. With a cracking voice and wet eyes, looking up at the ceiling trying so hard not to cry. Because despite the many occasions you were together, with easy banter and conversations, he had not seen you. And it changed everything.

“When I had to drop school after my parents passed… I just- everything went off the rails. Too quick. Like that old me died in the same car crash as my parents…” Your voice was thick with holding back the urge to cry. You quickly stood up, forcing yourself not to cry. “What am I doing?” You huffed, “That’s not what you’re paying me for.”

Lewis didn’t say anything as you retreated your feelings back inside, raising up your walls, but he wanted to know. He really wanted to find out who you were apart from your job.

“How long have you been working this… career?”

“Two years now.”

“And before that?”

“Working myself to the ground to keep a leaky roof over my head and not knowing what would be my next meal. If I’d have any.”

“And before that?”

“University. Part time job, boyfriend and family.” You muttered, your voice cracking.

“And now…?”

You shook your head, turning towards the window as you quickly wiped a stray tear that dared fall down your cheeks. There was only silence, and Lewis pretending he didn’t see the movement of your hand wiping that tear.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Lewis finally spoke:

“Should we order food? I’m sure we-”

“I… I should go now,” you said with a gulp, turning to face him. Lewis nodded slowly, hesitating to let you go like this. But he could see in your eyes you weren’t budging right now.

He accompanied you towards the door, and he held it open when you turned to look at him again.

“I won’t lose control over my emotions like this again.” You let him know, and he wanted to argue that he didn’t mind, but deep down he assumed you were saying that for your own sake instead of his.

Later, as you got home numbly, sitting in the kitchen and lost in thought, he had paid for every single hour you had gone there double as promised, but it made you nauseous to know a part of you was charging to hear him let out his frustrations and offer a friendly shoulder.

But then you remembered. For him, it was a service he was paying for, and for you it was survival. Every single one of these digits in your bank account meant a step closer to the finish line, a step closer to rebuilding your life.

And while Lewis had everything figured out, you knew how fast like could go to shit depending on the circumstances. Everything in your life that could go wrong has gone wrong already. And you had to pawn your broken heart, had to sell your soul in exchange for a not-miserable life.

A few days later, Lewis invited you to another event, this time, a yacht party with one of the sponsors he was trying to make a deal with. Lewis sent you the clothes to wear, and a few accessories like sunglasses and a couple of hats to pick from.

When he picked you up and the driver took you to the marina, you tried to maintain your upbeat personality and pretend that the situation at his penthouse never happened. Lewis greeted you, but seemed slightly agitated, a little less than he was when he first invited you to his penthouse, but nervous nonetheless, leg bouncing as he looked out the window.

“You good?” You asked him, and without thinking, you took his hand and gave a squeeze. His head snapped to your hands intertwined, and after a second of hesitation, he squeezed back.

“Not really.” He whispered.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

You nodded with a soft smile.

The yacht party started as soon as they left the coast. Lewis didn’t need you much, but here and there, you would chime into conversations, slowly reminding him to eat something and drink water, or even saving him from awkward conversations more than once.

What changed was how Lewis would see you, now paying attention to you closely. Like during a conversation, when you mentioned in passing about a trip to Barcelona with your family when you were little, the way your eyes lit up when you first talked about it, but the way you were saddened after the story was over. How smart you were, adding commentary about things you knew a lot about, like maths and economy, how you seemed fascinated by certain topics of businesses

Lewis couldn’t help but wonder what life was like for you before.

He was feeding off the scraps you gave him.

Over the next few months, he’d start to gather more info on you, small bits you’d let out. How you’d mention loving tomato soup, but never mastering the recipe your dad used to do. Like the fact that you’d allow yourself a sweet treat and a coffee from a place downtown Saturday morning every two weeks. How you’d bite the inside of your cheek when you were concentrating on something. He liked when you were playful and comfortable enough to be witty, your little smart-ass comments that he had to pretend to be annoyed at.

One particular event, a black tie gala had you and Lewis in a big event venue, gigantic chandeliers atop your heads and Lewis constant presence beside you, his hand on your back or holding your hand whenever he needed a silent reassurance - a grounding squeeze.

At some point, you and Lewis sat down and you used that moment of respite to go to the restroom. You were inside one of the stalls when you heard two women come in, chatting.

“-could do so much better than her,” One of them said, and you were about to leave when something in their tones made you stop.

“I mean- he’s Lewis freaking Hamilton! Of course he can do better.”

“Do you know who she is? Is she from some influential family or something like that?”

“No, I don’t think so. We’d know by now… Maybe she’s some sort of you know… prostitute,” they giggled, “you know how many nobodies come to Monaco to try and get a better life like that-”

You opened the stall door, head held high as you stared at them through the big mirror. They flushed red, having been caught speaking behind your back. You didn’t even flinch, just went to the sink, washed and dried your hands, and before leaving, you stared at their eyes through the mirror. You didn’t back down or cower away, you wanted them to feel bad, or at least uncomfortable enough to make them stop bad mouthing others.

As you sat back again beside Lewis, you tried to keep up with the good mood, but what you heard back inside the restroom was still echoing in your ears.

“Are you okay, Birdie?” Lewis leaned closer to your ear.

“Yeah. Yes, I’m alright,” You said, retouching your bright red lipstick, something you had planned to do in the restroom but didn’t get the chance to.

You forced a bright smile and after dinner, went to do a couple more rounds with Lewis, greeting people and engaging in polite conversation. At some point, someone seemed to want to talk a little more privately with Lewis so you got the cue and excused yourself to go grab another drink. You walked up to the bar, ordered a cuba libre for you and a martini for Lewis, you were waiting when you felt someone behind you, you thought it was Lewis but you jumped when a different hand wrapped around your forearm.

Turning around, your eyes narrowed when you saw Luke. He was dressed like part of the catering staff, and he looked angry.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He hissed, pulling you into a corner. You tried to shake off his grasp, and he pushed you against the wall, “Are you following me or what?!”

“Let go!” You whispered with gritted teeth, a mix of anger and fear making your blood boil, “You can die for all I care, asshole!”

“If you’re trying any funny business, I-”

“Everything alright here?” It was Lewis, and the relief you felt seeing him must’ve been visible in your face. Lewis grabbed Luke’s wrist and pushed him away from you.

Luke said something else to Lewis, but you couldn’t hear it above the thrumming of your heart. You covered your eyes for a moment, trying to situate yourself, and then you felt Lewis’ hands on yours, pulling you closer.

“Hey, hey,” He gently held your cheek and jaw, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

You slowly shook your head no, swallowing thickly as you tried to breath in and out. Lewis gently wrapped an arm around you and guided you somewhere private where you could sit down. He took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“You’re good. You’re okay, I’m here.”

He whispered some comforting words as you relearned to breathe, squeezing his hand to ground yourself and not spiral into anger and memories of your distant past. Once you were a little more composed, you pressed a hand to your chest.

“Sorry. That- that startled me-”

“You’re okay, no need to apologize. Wh- who’s that guy?” Lewis asked.

“A no-one from my past.”

Lewis stared at you as if he was waiting for more… Once he noticed you wouldn’t give him any more information, he exhaled.

“We should probably leave now.”

“No, but your event is-”

“We did enough mingling and you look like you need to get out of that tight corset and breathe.” He said leaving no space for arguments, taking out his phone to text the driver.

Then he just took your hand and you left quietly, through the back door when the driver was already waiting. You went back to his place.

“Is your driver taking me home?” You asked as he led you inside his place, following him straight to the kitchen.

“I ask him, but…” Lewis paused, handing you a glass of cold water, which you took a sip from, feeling nice as it cooled down your throat, “I’d feel better if you stayed the night. In one of the guest bedrooms.” He added, for good measure.

“I’m not sure if-”

“You were very shaken…” He said, voice soothing and understanding. So much it gave you some sort of sense of safety that caused a lump to form on your throat, “You can leave in the morning. If anything, just do this for my peace of mind.”

“You don’t have to. But, okay, I’ll stay. I really appreciate it,” you whispered, not wanting to sound ungrateful.

Lewis showed you to a guest room, a couple of doors down from the main suite, he showed you where to get towels, where to get toiletries, more blankets, and there was even a pajama set in one of the drawers, it was new, still had price tags on and everything. Much better quality than pretty much anything in your own wardrobe. It was soft and a size too big, but just to sleep, you didn’t mind it like that.

“Have a good night, okay?” Lewis said, standing by the threshold, eyes on you.

“Yes, thank you. I-” You hesitated for a moment, touching the corset of your dress, hesitating to ask for him to help you. But he saw it, and understood it, no words needed.

He stepped behind you, and you pulled your hair over your shoulder, you felt as the first hooks were being unlatched, the corset giving in and you wrapped a hand around it to hold it in place. Lewis stared down your back, his eyes going from your bare shoulders to the slit of skin that showed in the middle of your back, and he had to hold back the urge to tenderly kiss the skin of your shoulder, down to your back as far as the dress went.

“Thank you,” You whispered as he finished, his hands holding onto the structure of the corset, frozen on the spot.

“Yeah…” He gulped, stepping away.

You woke up early the following morning, after going to the bathroom, you stepped downstairs to the living room. Apparently, Lewis was still asleep, so you decided to sit outside on his balcony, staring at the pretty view of the city.

It didn’t take too long until you heard footsteps, looking up from the view towards him. Lewis looked soft. Softer than you had ever seen him. Pajamas pants hanging around his thin waist, and a cotton T-shirt, braids loose around his face. His face was just slightly puffy from sleep, but that kind spark his eyes remained the same.

He sat down beside you on the comfortable loveseat, handing you one of the mugs he had, steaming coffee. You nodded a quiet thank you, then took a small sip. It was coffee with a bit of milk and quite some sugar, just the way you liked it.

“How do you know I like my coffee sweet?” You smiled softly behind the mug.

“I pay attention.”

“How?” You asked with a playful kind of daring look in your eyes, he smiled, looking away.

“I just know. You always put sugar in your coffee, you always eat more desserts than the actual main course, and all your drinks are usually sweet.” He shrugged.

“I didn’t know you paid so much attention.”

“To you. Yes.” He muttered and that made your heart stutter, you looked away, quietly finishing your drink.

After you two finished the drink in silence, Lewis leaned back against the seat, facing you now. You knew he wanted to ask something, so you let him.

“That guy yesterday… Was he your ex?”

“Correct…” You nodded, deciding what you wanted to tell, how much you’d let him know, “He conned me. Fucked me over and took all my money.”

With a deep breath, you decided to tell him, from school, to your parents, to your ex, to life before becoming a paid company. For some reason, the ambiance had made you malleable, favorable to telling him the story of your life.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Birdie.” Lewis said, serious, and he genuinely looked angry on your behalf.

“Thank you.”

Another moment of silence as you two basked under the soft morning sunlight. You closed your eyes for a moment, enjoying the sun, the breeze and the moment of peace that had been so rare for many years now. And with your eyes closed, you could imagine this under different circumstances.

One where you had met Lewis by chance, one where you had gone on plenty of dates, unassuming and low on expectations, dates in small restaurants and by the pier, whispering about life and giggling about each other's stories. One he’d have taken you home because he wanted to, one he’d taken you to bed, made love to you, both of you laughing as something had not gone according to plan, waking up tangled in each other, sharing lazy and soft kisses. A dream.

When you opened your eyes again, Lewis was closer, studying your face, a soft look on his eyes, even softer little smile.

“You look pretty.”

“Sleepy-face and morning hair?” You joked to cut through the tension that had significantly risen in a couple of seconds.

“Relaxed. Looking like yourself.”

His words landed deep, somewhere dormant for years, somewhere you had been keeping guarded, safe away from all the cynicism and the armor you had been using for quite a long time.

You didn’t know if he took initiative or if you did, or if you met halfway, but a second later, your lips were pressed together, softly, slowly. As if you two were hesitant, scared. Lewis pulled back first, opening his eyes to search your face. When you realised he’s checking to see if you wanted this, you fisted his shirt and tugged him back. He followed, kissing you again. Lewis’ hand flew to your jaw, angling your head just right so he could part your lips with his own, tongue slowly dipping into your mouth, keeping the slow rhythm, enjoying the connection.

He kissed you slowly, like the world had stopped for you two, like you were in a small time rift, in that tiny infinity, you could be just you, and he was just Lewis. And you were a man and a woman who just wanted each other with no weight of past, present or future. You let yourself enjoy that moment, you let yourself be a woman deserving of gentle kisses and soft mornings under the sun.

You kissed for minutes that felt like hours but at the same time didn’t feel like they were enough. Lewis broke the kiss gently, parting with soft little pecks. He didn’t push for more, even with the way you were all putty against the seat, facing him with eyes still closed and a soft little smile.

“Let me take care of you, Birdie.” He whispered, like he wanted to promise.

That was what closed the rift, what brought back to the real, unforgiving world. Your eyes met him, and he was being honest, genuine. You wanted so badly to accept. That girl you were who had everything stolen from you, who wanted to be cared for, to be loved, she screamed that she wanted it. Him.

But you were hardened by life now, and you couldn’t leave space for the kind of foolishness that allowed everything to be ripped from you in the first place. There was no space for that in your life anymore. Not any trace of naivety. You shook your head slowly, sadly.

“You can come live with me, I can help you find something else to work with. I know people. Or maybe if you want to go back to school. I can more than afford it. You won’t have to worry about anything.” He said, like he was trying to convince you, like he wanted to give you the damn world. Like you deserved it.

You didn’t think Lewis was lying, he had no reason to. And he wouldn’t fuck you over like Luke had done. He probably wouldn’t hurt you either. But there was a great part of you, one that grew too much these past few years and it did not allow yourself to believe, to give yourself blindly to someone to trust him with your whole heart. To fall in love one day.

“You lovely, lovely man,” You whispered, shaking your head, voice gentle as you held his jaw, felt his beard under your fingers, “I can’t.”

“You know I can do all that. We can set a bank account for you, I can put the money for your school there, so you’ll know the rug won’t be pulled from under your feet. You’re proud, I know, you can pay me back later, after everything is fixed…” He argued softly, because he could see the refusal in your eyes.

“I didn’t say all this for you to pity me, Lewis,” You whispered, voice soft despite your heavy words.

“I’m not pitying you. But you- life fucked you over, but I can fix it, Birdie.”

You shook your head once again. Lewis looked like he wanted to argue, to offer solutions, to keep trying because that’s how he was. The kind of guy that never gives up.

“I’m the opposite of the Midas touch,” You whispered to him, “Everything I touch gets so fucked up…”

“Don’t say that. It’s not true, you were unlucky. You were given a bad hand,” He insisted, his eyes pleading, “Let me help you. If it makes you feel better, it doesn’t have to be permanent, okay? You can stay here just until you get back on your feet. This place is massive and I’m away most of the year anyway. You can move out after everything gets better for you. We don’t have to be anything other than friends, I’m not trying to trap you or make you feel like you might owe me something in the future.”

Fear was the bitter taste in your mouth, pride was the roots around your limbs, keeping you stuck, keeping you unable to trust, to risk things, to try and jump on someone else’s safety net scared that it wouldn’t be when you fell.

“Thank you, really,” You whispered, choked up in the tears you didn’t want to fall, eyes misty as you stared at his face, at the bright light in his eyes, the curve of his lashes and furrow between his brow, “Just the fact that you offered, show me unbelievable kindness. More understanding than I have been offered in what feels like a lifetime.”

He wanted to argue, and you knew he would not drop it so soon. But he knew to stop at that moment before risking scaring you away. With an upset exhale, he sat back against the seat, shoulder to shoulder with you. You allowed him to take your hand and place it on his lap, his fingers playing with yours like he’d do when he got anxious at events.

“It’s just…” He started, staring at the sky, “So unfair.”

“I know.”

You adjusted your head to lay on his shoulder, both of you quiet under the weight of everything unsaid.

“Can I kiss you again?” You whispered, and he pulled back just enough to face you.

“Come here,” He gently held the back of your head, angling it to go back to kissing.

He kissed you soft and lazy for quite a long time, just pausing for air here and there, or brushing your noses, enjoying every second of it. You wrapped your arms around him, letting him hold you like a true lover.

At some point, his phone started ringing on the small table beside the loveseat.

“You have to pick that up,” You whispered, lips brushing together because neither wanted to stop kissing.

“Don’t want to,” He said before diving back in, to kiss you some more.

The ringing stopped, but a few seconds later, it started again. You broke the kiss, pressing your forehead to his shoulder with a soft kissed smile.

“You’ve got to pick up.”

“I know.” He hugged you, hiding his face in your neck.

The phone rang and stopped, then rang again before Lewis got up and picked it up. He spoke just a few steps away from you, looking at you and reluctantly speaking with the person on the other side.

After the call, he explained he had a business meeting in a couple of hours, and he’d have to go. You sat on the couch inside as you watched him go into his bedroom to change, then walk around preparing his stuff for the meeting.

When he was ready to leave, he stopped before you, then leaned down, grabbed your chin softly and pecked your lips.

“Stay here, okay? There’s food in the kitchen and you can explore and help yourself to whatever. There are clothes in the guest bedroom, but you can grab some of mine if you prefer. We’ll talk again when I come back.” He kissed you again. He stared into your eyes, hoping you would stay, sensing your hesitation, “Stay, Birdie. Yeah?”

You nodded slowly, a lump in your throat.

The first tears came when you heard the soft click of the door closing behind him.

In another life, you’d have stayed. In a life you weren’t what you were, you didn’t work with what you did, your future hadn’t been blown up before it even started. You couldn’t. You couldn’t place all this weight on Lewis, to let him fix a life that you had derailed all by yourself.

You explored his penthouse for a few minutes, seeing his small details here and there, even between the grandeur of the place, there were small parts of Lewis everywhere, and you imagined a life where small parts of you would join his own.

Your life now had been a mess for most of your adulthood, misfortunes and bad choices now all tangled together in a chaos that you had not even found the end of the string to start unraveling it.

Eventually, you ended up in his closet. Gigantic closet, walls of clothes and shoes and accessories. You wondered just how much Lewis trusted you to leave you alone at his place, full of expensive stuff that, if you were someone else, you could’ve stolen.

You are about to step back from his closet when your eyes landed on two pieces of clothes folded on the island. It was the clothes he was wearing just a little bit ago, when you two were kissing like teenagers on the balcony. You touched the cotton of his T-shirt, and in an impulse, you grabbed it, bringing it to your nose. Still smelled like him, like fresh shower and a soft cologne, not the kind he wore to events, but something gentler.

Back to the guest bedroom you had slept in, you checked your phone.

You fixed your purse, stared at the fine dress from last night, now hanging by the door and you wondered if you should stay, like Lewis had asked you to. Maybe you could rely on him for a little bit. Maybe just stay another day, just for that conversation he promised you-

Your phones pinged with a notification, as you opened it, it was the bank notification. Lewis had sent you the money for last night, double the initial rate, which he had been doing since that one time he invited you in the middle of the day.

This is a money thing, you said to yourself, like everything you had been doing this whole time, years now. All for money. When you thought about kisses under the soft sun, and then you thought about the money he just sent you, it made you want to puke. Everything else, beyond the kiss, you had done for money, for yourself, to try and get out of this life as soon as possible. Not to be rescued for a knight in shining armor, you were way past that now.

You got dressed in a daze, eyes stinging as you decided to leave the dress from the night before behind, wearing the borrowed pajamas and his T-shirt on top of it. Before you left, you decided to leave a note.

“I’m sorry, I stole your T-shirt. Thank you for everything. Good luck.” You only signed it with a small heart doodle.

And then, as you got in the taxi, you blocked his number, his e-mail, his account where he sent you money, everything.

Once you got home, you sat down for a moment suspended in the air, staring at the balance in your bank account, everything you had managed to gather the past two years, the amount of nights worked, sometimes with men you barely tolerated, pushing past pride and personal opinions. Living with the bare minimum because the less you spent, the closer you got to reigning your life back on track. The amount was a good amount, more than you ever had in your personal account, even back when your parents were alive. Just a bit above six digits, way less than seven.

It’s not exactly the amount you had first intended to amount to when you first became an escort, but you would make do with that, you had scrapped and survived a negative bank account, this would be fine.

So you made up your small suitcase, you had been living way below your means, so not many clothes to fill up the suitcase, a few makeup items here and there, underwear and toiletries. No personal items other than a photo album of your family and yourself growing up. And now, Lewis’ stolen T-shirt.

Not looking back once, you disappeared.

Lewis looked for you once he got back home and found your note. He tried calling, texting and even sending e-mails, but none of that went through. The following day he called the driver to your place, but as he asked for you, he was informed you had left for good.

He was confused for a long time, worried for your wellbeing, but still, a part of him could accept that you wouldn’t want his help, not with everything he knew about your life.

As he laid in bed at night, eyes on the ceiling, he couldn’t help but imagine what ifs. But he knew you’d have to fly on your own, to do what you wanted to, pull yourself off your own pit, not exactly out of pride, but something deeper and meaningful. He imagined himself with your age, going through the exact same thing, and he knew he’d do exactly the same.

He just hoped and prayed you were okay.

Your heels clinked on the ground as you quickly made your way into the elevator. You were just in time to go home, relax after the busy week. Your coworkers invited you to the happy hour at a bar across the street, but you politely refused, promising them that the following Friday you’d join them.

As the elevator door closed and you hit the ground button, you reached into your purse, looking for your car keys in between the mess you made inside it.

The elevator dinged as it stopped on another floor, and you barely looked up as you said a simple and polite, “Hey.”

“Birdie.”

Your head snapped up because only one person in the whole world called you that. You gasped as you were face to face with Lewis Hamilton once again, inside the elevator. He looked exactly the same as before, cool and collected, handsome as ever. But he also seemed surprised to see you.

“Wow, it’s… been years…” He whispered.

“It’s good to see you, Lewis.” You smiled, heart beating out of your chest, almost breathless.

“You too, Birdie. Looking good,” He smiled softly, finally stepping fully inside and pressing the button, “How have you been?”

“I’m good…” You smiled at him, genuinely, “I- got my life back on track, finished school, been working here for a bit now. I didn’t know you were one of our clients.”

“That makes me happy to know. I was… rooting for you.” He said softly, looking into your eyes that way he always did before.

“I heard about your new team, I’m glad you’re doing well too.”

It was a little bit awkward, the silence, you didn’t have the heart to really talk about what happened back then, but still, that small part of you that was overridden with guilt, needed to let it out, so you decided to just rip off the band-aid.

“I’m sorry for ghosting you. You offered help, genuine help, and I just… dipped.”

“I looked for you.”

“I know,” You whispered with a sad little smile, because you always knew he would, that’s why you had to disappear that same day, because if he found you, you’d agree with anything he offered looking at you with those eyes.

“But I… understand now. You had to do it on your own, for yourself.” He added with a soft little smile.

The elevator arrived and you two stepped out. You hesitated, turning to face him once more.

“It was good to see you, Lewis…” You smiled at him.

“You too, Birdie,” He pushed his hands into his pockets, staring at you. Different clothes, different hair, looking slightly more mature, confident.

You waved at him and walked towards the parking lot. Halfway through it, you looked back and he was still there, staring at you. You reached your car and opened the door, but hesitated, closing it again and turning around to face him. He laughed, walking up to you slowly, crossing the parking lot like a model on the runway.

“I remember you owe me a T-shirt…” He said as he stopped close to you, his voice playful and his eyes shining in amusement. You didn’t tell him about the shirt you still wore, now it was old and ragged, but the fabric was still soft, perfect to sleep wearing it.

“Oh, no,” you said, being playful back, “how could I repay you?”

“Going out to dinner with me.”

“When?” You bit back a smile.

“Now,” When you hesitated, he reached for your hand, pulling it up, kissing your knuckles, “And tomorrow,” he added, placing small pecks on your fingers, “and all the days after that.”

“You’re crazy…” You laughed, shaking your head, heart full.

“For you, yes.”

You smiled, eyes watery as he tugged you closer until he could pull into a hug, your arms wrapping around his neck as his own circled your waist. A deep hug, gentle but firm, silently saying all the things you left unsaid all these years.

“Yeah…” You whispered, nosing at his neck to feel his scent again, “Let’s go out to dinner.”

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