I can't .

~25~

POV y/n:

I'm on my way to the green room where Carlos is waiting for me. I don't know why I'm even going—I've already made up my mind not to believe a word he says. But curiosity tugs at me. And after seeing Isa near the stage, my suspicions feel more than justified. If she's still hanging around, he clearly hasn't let her go.

Still, when I spot him—leaning casually against the wall, eyes locked on mine—my heart stumbles in my chest. Damn it. I hate how much he still affects me. There's something in those dark eyes that makes my anger waver for just a second too long.

"Mi amor," he says softly, a flicker of hope in his voice. "I'm glad you came."

I exhale hard. "Call me mi amor one more time and I swear I'll punch you."

A smirk curls at his lips—and of course, he tests me.

"Mi amor."

That's it.

I raise my fist to swing, but he catches my wrist and pulls me toward him. Too close. Way too close.

"You're so beautiful when you're angry," he murmurs, lips brushing my ear.

The contact sends a shiver through me. Goosebumps erupt down my arms, and judging by the smug chuckle in his throat, he feels the reaction too.

"Still good to know I can make you feel something," he whispers.

I jerk back, wrenching my arm from his grip.

"You touch me one more time, Carlos, and I swear—"

"We can't keep doing this. We need to talk."

"When I say you're the last person I want to talk to, I mean it." My voice cracks slightly at the end, betraying me.

"I know you hate me. But please, just let me explain."

"I should've listened to my father. He warned me to stay away from you."

"I know I messed up, badly. But let me fix this. Please."

"I saw her, Carlos. Isa. Today. On the stage." I cross my arms. "So don't tell me she's out of the picture."

"I saw her too. But I don't want her. She kissed me, I didn't kiss her back—what you saw meant nothing. It's you. It's always been you."

"And you really expect me to believe that?" I ask, my voice low and bitter.

His expression falters. "Y/N... I need you."

I shake my head slowly. "We can't do this anymore. I'm going back to Mercedes after the summer break."

"So? That changes nothing."

"It changes everything. If my father finds out, he'll have me out of there before I even unpack."

"He doesn't need to know."

"Carlos, stop." My voice is firm now, final. "This isn't going to work. Not while Isa's still here, circling like a vulture. Not while I can't trust you."

I turn away without waiting for his reply and walk toward the exit, heart heavy but certain.

I don't look back.

POV Carlos:

The final race before the summer break ended in disaster for me. My head wasn't in it, and I clipped Oscar's McLaren in the first corner. DNF. I stormed into the pit box, yanked off my helmet, and changed out of my gear without saying a word. As Charles continued his race, I followed the leaderboard, but my attention kept drifting elsewhere—specifically to Bottas. He was hanging back again, far from the sharp, strategic driver we'd seen since Y/N joined Alfa Romeo.