I can't .

~15~

POV Carlos:

The moment I felt my phone buzz and saw y/n's name on the screen, I slipped outside without a second thought. My breath was uneven as I stood waiting near the curb, trying to settle my nerves. Time seemed to slow around me. In my haste, I hadn't even told Lando or Charles I'd left the club.

I lingered awkwardly by the entrance, unsure of what to do with myself. A few fans nearby recognized me and asked for a photo, which helped distract me—for a moment. But then I spotted a cab pulling up.

My gaze drifted past the people around me and landed on her. She stepped out, and my heart stuttered. That dress—simple, black, elegant—was one I remembered from before. Paired with heels and a small bag, she looked effortlessly beautiful.

I mumbled an apology to the fans and stepped toward her.

"Hey y/n, you made it."

"Yeah, of course."

There's a flicker in her eyes—she sees right through me. I don't know how to carry myself, and it's obvious.

"Are you nervous?" she asks, amused.

"No," I lie too quickly. "Come on, I'll take you to Lando and Charles."

I take her hand and guide her toward the door. As we reach the entrance, I catch Lando's eye and gesture for him to help get her in with us. He grins, clearly picking up on everything I'm trying—and failing—to hide.

"Hey y/n, good to see you!" I hear Charles greet her behind us, but before I can follow, Lando stops me with a hand on my arm.

"Carlos, come. You need a drink—now."

He's not wrong.

He hands me a Bacardi cola, and when I take it, I notice how badly my hands are shaking. We stay back for a moment, watching from a distance as y/n chats with Charles. Her attention keeps drifting back to us—back to me.

"She's into you," Lando says, low but confident.

"You think?" I ask, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"I know. Look at the way she's looking at you."

I take a long sip, eyes fixed on her. Her posture is relaxed, but there's something in the way she's leaning slightly toward me even while talking to Charles. Lando's right.

"Carlos," he says, nudging me, "she didn't come here for nothing. If she cared more about George, she'd be with him tonight, not you."

His words hit me. I drain the last of my drink, set the glass on the bar, and without another word, head straight toward her.

POV y/n:

I struggled to stay focused on my conversation with Charles. No matter how hard I tried, my eyes kept drifting toward the bar where Carlos stood with Lando. There was a quiet sort of intensity to the way he watched me—like he was trying to play it cool but couldn't help himself.

"Why did you come here alone?" Charles asked, snapping my attention back to him.

I hesitated for just a second before answering, "We had a fight... and decided it might be best to break up."

Charles gave me a puzzled look, but I didn't elaborate. Before the silence could stretch, I noticed Carlos making his way toward us, and my heart skipped a beat.

The evening flowed more easily after that. The tension slowly slipped away the longer I was around Carlos. He made me feel comfortable—even through all the chaos of the past few weeks. After a few drinks, Lando dragged us onto the dance floor, his energy contagious. I realized too late that I hadn't eaten much that day, and the alcohol hit harder than expected. Everything felt a little warmer, a little blurrier, and I wasn't entirely mad about it.