I can't .

~6~

POV y/n: 

I stand beside my father, eyes fixed on the screens in front of us. He's saying something to Lewis, but I barely register it. Since last night, my mind has been somewhere else—with someone else.

Carlos.

His soft lips pressed to mine, the way his body felt against me, warm and close. Even the way his hair always looks like it was effortlessly made to fall that perfectly—it's all I can think about. I'm completely lost in the memory until the pit crew suddenly jumps to life with a loud clatter. My father snaps something angrily about it taking too long, and only now do I realize George is in for a tire change.

"Y/n, can you please pay attention!"

I snap upright as he shoves a pen and notepad into my hands. Without a word, I begin scribbling down his instructions—something he always makes me do when he has a list of post-race issues he wants to revisit.

When the race ends and all the cars are brought back into the paddock, I find myself leaning casually against the entrance of Lewis' pit box, letting my eyes wander. I spot Carlos stepping out of his car, helmet in hand. He runs a hand through his hair, and I catch myself sighing before I can stop it. I bite my lip to hide the stupid smile threatening to creep across my face.

"What are you looking at?" Lewis's voice cuts through my daydream as he steps up beside me.

"The cars," I lie smoothly.

He chuckles. "Don't lie. I know exactly what you're looking at. I just don't get what you see in him."

"You don't need to get it," I say, teasing him.

Lewis rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "Anyway—George and I are heading into town tonight. Grab some dinner, maybe see what's going on after. You in? That is, if you're not too busy."

"Don't be like that, Lewis. Of course I have time for you guys."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Carlos glance our way. His gaze lingers on me—hot, intense—but I don't dare meet it. Not with my father still watching every move I make. I'm not in the mood for another lecture.

Lewis nudges me with his elbow. "I'll pick you up at seven."

"Sounds good," I say, still not looking back. But I feel Carlos watching me, and part of me wonders if tonight's going to get even more complicated.

POV Carlos: 

I spot her eyes drifting across the pit lane as I climb out of my car. I take off my helmet and instinctively run a hand through my hair to fix it. I try not to glance toward the Mercedes boxes—but of course, I fail.

There she is.

And then Lewis appears beside her.

Something twists in my stomach. I know it's not really my place to care, but the way he always seems to find an excuse to touch her—it gets under my skin. I keep watching, trying to read their body language.

"I'll pick you up at seven," I hear Lewis say.

My heart sinks. So much for hoping I could spend the evening with her. I head straight to my dressing room and grab my phone—she said she'd text me after the race. When I open WhatsApp, I see she's online. My thumb hovers over the screen as I watch the word "typing..." appear.

She tells me she's heading out tonight with Lewis and George for dinner, maybe to explore the city a bit. I ask if I can see her before she leaves.

"That'll be tricky with everyone still around," she replies.