I can't .

~10~

POV y/n:

I missed the last races of the season but kept up with everything from home, following the events closely with my mother and Jack. With George, things are only getting better, but with Lewis, it's a bit of a different story. I've noticed some mistakes at Ferrari that I would have handled very differently, but at this point, it's not really my concern. I've made a note of them, though, and plan to discuss them with my father during the winter break when we can reflect on everything.

Before the last race, I had a call with Lewis. He was really upset about having to race again on a track where he had come so close to winning the year before and failed. Unfortunately for him, this year wasn't any better, and he crashed out. George, on the other hand, had a solid finish in P5. Carlos made it difficult for him to overtake, but secretly, I couldn't help but feel a little happy for Carlos. He didn't let George get under his skin, and I admired that.

After hearing the Dutch national anthem for what felt like the hundredth time, I turned off the TV, my thoughts drifting to the season's end.

POV Carlos:  

After the podium ceremony, I head straight to change. The season is finally over, and I can't wait to get back home. I'm feeling drained, to be honest. The past few weeks have been exhausting—nothing but cold stares from the Mercedes guys, as if it's somehow my fault that y/n isn't here. She's tried calling me several times, but I couldn't bring myself to answer. I ignored her messages, too. I just didn't know what to say. I've been focusing all my energy on training and the races, trying to avoid the mess of emotions I didn't want to deal with.

After slipping my jeans back on, I pull my phone out of my pocket and see another message from y/n. She congratulates me on my P4 and mentions how I managed to keep Russell behind me. I quickly reply with a thank you and lock the phone again. The last thing I want to do is get caught up in this, especially now.

Exiting my dressing room, I head straight into the media obligations that I can barely bring myself to care about. My PR team is waiting, and I exchange a brief glance with Rupert as I walk past him. He gives me a subtle signal, indicating we'll talk later. I find my spot, just as Charles walks by. I congratulate him on his P2, then proceed with my interviews, not really paying attention to the questions.

Finally, I'm back in my hotel room. The past few weeks have made it clear to the media that something's going on between me and the Mercedes guys. I can't talk about it, and I don't want to, but the fans have already connected the dots. They saw me leave with y/n a few weeks ago, and now there are stories circulating about me dating her. I'm constantly asked about her night out with Lewis and George, and what I think about the photo of her and Lewis together. I've had enough of it. Thankfully, my PR team cuts the interviews short, and I make my escape.

Sitting at the foot of the bed, I'm just starting to relax when there's a knock on the door. I get up, open it, and find Rupert standing there. I let him in and pour us both a drink.

"Tell me, what's bothering you?" he asks, settling into a chair.

"She sent me another message," I admit. "I don't know what to do."

"Did you respond to it?" he presses.

"Yeah. What else was I supposed to do? It was a congratulatory message. It felt pathetic to just ignore it."

"Did you listen to her voicemail?"

"No, and honestly, I don't want to hear her voice. I think the best thing is to block her and focus on myself over the winter break. I can't keep doing this."

With that, I pull out my phone, hesitate for a moment, then block her number. It's the best thing for both of us, even if it doesn't feel that way. We never really had anything, especially not with her father always controlling her life.

POV George:

II'm out running with y/n, and somewhere between catching our breath and hitting our stride, she starts venting about what happened a few weeks ago.

"It's just not fair! I didn't do anything to him!" she bursts out.

"Hey, calm down, y/n. There has to be a reason," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Oh yeah? Like what, George? I've been home taking care of my mom and Jack for weeks. Dad only just got back, and then boom—Carlos blocks me the night of the last race. I know my dad had something to do with it."

"Why don't you just ask him?" I suggest. "But honestly, I don't think he did. I've been around him the whole time. I didn't even see Carlos after the interviews—just Rupert, and he said he was heading to find Carlos. I wanted to congratulate him on his P4, but he was already gone."

After that, we run in silence for a bit. Then she mumbles, "I don't get it. I told him why I had to leave, that I had to be with my mom."

"Don't stress too much, y/n. You're worth more than this. There are other guys out there."

"Yeah, I know... but it's not the same."

"Should it be?" I ask, watching her face as she thinks about it.

Then she looks at me with a mischievous glint. "What if we pretended we were dating? That way my dad gets what he wants, and I get to see how Carlos reacts."

I let out a laugh. "Y/n, that's ridiculous."

"Aw, come on, George?"

"Are you serious right now?" I ask, raising a brow. "I think you should ask Lewis instead."

She laughs and shakes her head. "No way. I can't do that to Lewis. I'm not stupid—if I ask him, he's going to think I actually want something to happen between us. And I don't. I'd lose him as my best friend, and I'm not willing to risk that."

I nod, understanding. We finish the rest of the run in thoughtful silence.

"Just... think about it," she says when we're almost at the end. "I'm not trying to force you into anything. But Charles told me Carlos gets jealous easily. So if he really doesn't care about me, he won't react at all."

"I'll think about it," I say, slowing down as we part ways. "But I'm not promising anything."

With that, we say goodbye, and I head toward home, still unsure what I'm going to do.