I can't .

~4~

POV y/n:

When I wake up the next morning, a pounding headache greets me like an old friend. I squint at my nightstand, where a glass of water sits next to a couple of aspirin, along with a small note. I reach for the note and read it: "Take these, you'll need them. Yesterday was fun. I hope to see you more often."

I smile slightly at the words, a warm feeling spreading through me despite the hangover. Yesterday had been fun—more fun than I'd anticipated. I take the aspirin with a sip of water and drag myself out of bed, heading for the shower. As I walk past the mirror, I notice I'm still wearing the clothes from last night. My mind races, trying to piece together the evening, but the details are hazy. I remember moments—laughter, a lot of drinks, a closeness that felt... right. But the end of the night? It's a blur.

Just as I'm getting dressed, there's a knock on my door. I open it to find Lewis standing there, looking amused.

"Had fun last night, or did you miss your date?" he asks, his grin teasing.

I stretch and shrug. "It sure was fun. I just don't remember the end of the night."

Lewis laughs softly. "Hangover?"

"Kind of, yeah," I admit, rubbing my temples. "By the way, did we have plans today?"

"No, but I wanted to come by, check in on you, and see how your date went," he says, his tone a little more cautious now.

I give him a vague smile. "It was fun. Let's leave it at that."

His expression softens, though there's a flicker of something else behind his eyes—maybe curiosity, maybe concern. "Do you feel like having lunch together?" he asks, almost as if he's hesitant.

"Sure," I reply, glad for the company. "I'll just grab my stuff, I'm pretty hungry, haven't eaten yet after last night."

As I finish getting ready, Lewis stands patiently by the door. When I'm done, we head to the elevator together. There's a quiet between us, but it's comfortable—familiar.

I can't help but wonder what's really going on in his head. There's something different about the way he's been acting, especially since last night. I shake the thought away and focus on the moment. For now, I'm just looking forward to lunch—and maybe a bit more clarity about where things stand with Carlos.

POV Carlos:

As Charles and I walk past the Mercedes pit boxes, my eyes instinctively dart inside. I catch a glimpse of her standing next to Toto. For a moment, I stop in my tracks, my gaze locked on them. The thoughts I had a few weeks ago come rushing back—those subtle, undeniable similarities between her and Toto. A knot forms in my stomach as the suspicion grows. Why won't she tell me her last name?

"Carlos, are you coming, mate?" Charles calls, snapping me out of my trance.

I quickly catch up to him, still distracted. "Why do you always stare inside when we walk past the Mercedes pit boxes?" he asks, a teasing tone in his voice.

I hesitate, the weight of the question pressing on me. "Remember that girl I saw at the club a few weeks ago?"

"The one who's friends with Lewis? Yeah, I remember her. What about her?" Charles asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I went on a date with her," I admit, my voice lower than usual.

Charles stops walking, clearly surprised. "And you didn't tell me that?"

I feel a brief flicker of frustration. "That's not the point right now," I snap, my thoughts still consumed by the puzzle she's become.

"Then what is your point?" Charles presses, his tone more serious now.