
Carlos Sainz had never been good at saying no. That much was clear when Charles Leclerc texted him on a Monday morning.
"Brunch? Just the two of us. Nothing fancy."
Carlos squinted at his phone, recalling how “nothing fancy” had once meant ordering five pancakes and taking three hours to eat them. But he typed:
"Sure. Sounds good."
The brunch was… fine. Too fine. Charles’ cheeks were red whenever he laughed, his hand occasionally brushing Carlos’ on the table. Carlos reassured himself: Just friends. Totally platonic.
But as Charles leaned in to whisper a joke and Carlos laughed a little too loudly, he caught the glint in Charles’ eye. The same eye that said, Finally, you’re mine.

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