I can't .

~2~

POV Carlos:

The days off had done me some good, but I still thought about her every single day. I'd checked Lewis's profile multiple times, hoping to find a clue, but there was nothing. Even Toto's profile didn't offer any answers. It was frustrating—she felt like a mystery I couldn't quite solve.

As I walked with Charles toward our garage, the routine of the day took over. We passed the Mercedes boxes, and without thinking, I glanced inside, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lewis, maybe with her by his side.

Without realizing it, my pace slowed.

"Carlos?" Charles's voice snapped me out of it. "You're staring inside again. Come on, we need to hurry, or Binotto will have our heads if we're late again."

I looked at Charles, who was already a few meters ahead of me. I took another quick glance into the Mercedes garage. There, in the back, next to Toto, there was a girl who almost looked like her. But I couldn't be sure.

I forced myself to keep moving. Focus. The weekend wasn't about her—it was about the race.

As we continued walking, I caught up with Charles and asked, "Charles, have you seen her?"

He gave me a sideways glance, then shook his head. "You're overthinking it, mate. You've probably got her stuck in your head. If she was really a friend of Lewis's, don't you think we would've seen her around before?"

I nodded, though part of me wasn't so sure. Charles was probably right—I had been fixated on this.

By the time we got to the garage, I pushed the thoughts aside. I focused on getting ready for qualifying. Tomorrow's race would demand my full attention, and that's where I needed to channel my energy.

Pov y/n:

Even though I saw Carlos pushing hard for a podium finish, luck just wasn't on his side. It was the same for Lewis—he didn't have his best race either. It left me feeling deflated. Now, I'd have to face my dad again, and I knew exactly what he'd say: "You didn't do your best." The thought of that argument already made my stomach twist. But at least George had secured a spot, and Lewis and I, being the sportsmen we are, would go watch the podium together.

As we stood there, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone's gaze was burning into my back.

"Lewis, look behind you. Who's standing there?" I murmured.

Lewis's eyes flickered over his shoulder, and the first person he locked eyes with was Carlos.
"It's Carlos," he whispered in my ear.

I wanted to turn around, to see if he was looking at me, but Lewis's grip tightened on my wrist.
"Don't," he said softly. "Your father's watching too."

I felt the weight of those words. But despite what Lewis said, a longing built inside me. I just want to see him again. Carlos's dark brown eyes had haunted me ever since our brief interaction. He didn't know who I was, not really—not that I wanted him to. But the way he looked at me had stirred something I couldn't ignore.

The eyes on me were relentless, and I wanted to turn around so badly, to see if he was still looking, if he was still thinking about me. But I held myself in place, trying to focus on the podium, trying to ignore the pull.

When everything finally wrapped up, I stuck close to Lewis. He seemed to notice my unease and instinctively wrapped his arm around my waist. "It's going to be okay, Y/N," he whispered, offering me a reassuring smile.

We passed Charles and Carlos on the way out. And in that split second, I caught Carlos's gaze. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I could see the challenge in them—something unspoken, but clear. He didn't like how close Lewis was to me. It was written all over his face.