Mon Amour | 𝑪.𝑳

Part 9

Lyla Andre-Accardi had been resenting love since she was 12.

She had always feared it, after the death of her mother, the death of her father, the accident of Michael Schumacher, the death of someone she saw as another older brother, and her grandparents telling her that she was the spawn of Satan for liking girls as well as boys. Lyla found absolutely no reason to fall in love with someone and spend the rest of your life with them.

And it didn't help that nearly every person she loved always ended up leaving her in one way or another...

That was until she found herself sat in the living room of Pascale LeClerc's house with her best friend asleep on the same piece of furniture.

Charles LeClerc was lying across the sofa on his stomach, his cheek was resting on her thighs and one of his arms accompanied him by laying across them as well. His other hand was intertwined with Lyla's. The Italian's other hand was laced deeply within his hair, an action which alongside the circles she was drawing on the back of his hand had sent him into the sleep he had been delaying and she was now to scared to stop in fear of waking him.

Lyla had been letting her thoughts swirl the entire time that they had been stuck in his position. Finally letting herself think through everything that had happened in the last few weeks – from the drunken conversations, the blatant flirting, the need to always be touching each other, the tingles that would be left on her skin after his touch and the stolen glances they shared.

Lyla Andre-Accardi had come to the conclusion that she felt something more...

Feelings that regarded for something more than friendship.

The man in question stirred causing Lyla to break away from her thoughts.

Charles turned his head, trying to bury it further into Lyla's thighs because of the sunlight which was dosing his face and Lyla's body. A soft smile formed on her lips as she started moving her fingers through his hair again, not having realised she had stopped whilst she was thinking.

Charles eyes' fluttered open slightly, the Monegasque squinting in the sun.

"Hi." His voice was laced heavily with sleep.

"Afternoon." Lyla smiles. "You alright now?"

"Mhm." He hums, nodding his head.

The action sent vibrations through her skin and her eyes widened slightly before she quickly masked her feelings so she didn't let them slip. Charles adjusted his position so that he could turn his head properly and be able to see her without having his head tilted at an awkward angle.

"Sorry." He laughs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"No worries." Lyla shakes her head. "I'm used to you using me as a pillow."

"I better be the only person who can cause your thighs as a pillow."

Charles falling asleep on Lyla was something that had become pretty common between the two friends. The Monegasque liked the sense of safety and comfort that Lyla provided him with, especially after he suffered one of his nightmares or panic attacks – which was the situation Lyla and Charles had found themselves in.

"Pierre as well."

"Let me rephrase that. The only straight man who can use your thighs as a pillow."

"You're the only straight man who can use my thighs as a pillow, Charlie."

"As much as I love listening to you two lovebirds," A voice echoes causing them both to turn their attention to the door. "Mama says dinner is ready."