GREENE | CS55

39 - Is It Over Now?

Carlos, upon returning back to his hotel room— back to his sanctuary for the weekend where the curtains would remain drawn and the comforter strewn across the king-sized mattress— quickly let the prospective reprieve of sleep reel him in from what felt to be his worst nightmare.

A nightmare that, to Carlos' dismay, only continued the next day. With his situation with Pierce Greene left strained, more so than it was before last night.

Like he was forced to face a difficult truth. Like the nightmare was never ending. To come to terms with the repercussions of his feelings for Pierce Greene that he hadn't considered until he woke up the following morning, a blistering headache accompanying a horrid attitude and a great desire to just get the day over with.

Maybe it made him a fool of the highest caliber to think that hearing Pierce Greene causing a scene at the entry of the Hilton event was a sign. That maybe, she was there for him. Maybe the excitement and the relief garnered in his gut when he realized he could have a chance to turn things around that night were fleeting and intangible— a chance that was nothing more than imagination.

Carlos felt like a fool, either way.

But when he heard her name whispered like a game of Telephone through the mouths at the event— when he subtly followed the commotion and really did find Pierce, anger stitching her face into a frown— Carlos couldn't help but step in and try.

He never bothered to question the consequences.

Never considered that somehow Pierce could draw herself further and further from Carlos. That it would only make this all that much worse. That something like that was even possible.

It was, Carlos quickly admitted to himself.

He wasn't out-qualified by a Haas the next day. Not even close. A pit formed in Carlos' stomach, his tongue sucked against the opening of his drinks straw as he gawked at the place that her number fifteen Haas would start in tomorrow.

Fifteenth. Carlos clamped his eyes shut, spitting the straw from his mouth, and checked again. His eyes were not deceiving him. It'd be Pierce's worst start in a long time.

Foolishly, he'd checked over his shoulder in the Media Pen for Pierce. Not like he'd even know what to do with himself if she was anywhere in his sight— which, she wasn't. The team must have allowed her to sit this one out. Understandably so.

Lando, ever present, caught his eye, with Sophie beside him murmuring notes as her eyes flickered across a sheet of paper on a leather-bound clipboard. She was so concentrated she couldn't even tell Lando wasn't paying attention as she gave her best attempt at steering the young Brit to the next waiting reporter.

Carlos cocked his jaw to the side, turning to face his own reporter again, answering the question asked with mindless trained efficiency. Spewing whatever answer they wanted. What did it really matter, anyway? Anything to get out quickly, back to his drivers room. Back to the quiet relief he felt in the car, relief enough to bring Carlos a P4 start himself.

Lando Norris was so swept up by Tatianna Scott the night of the Hilton party, Carlos didn't even bother with interrupting the two beaming figures as he shadowed past them, leaving through the front entrance with only a smile and necessary pleasantries towards eager fans that recognized him. His step did stutter as he neared the two, unmoved from their spot leaning against the bar. He nearly patted a hand down on Lando's shoulder before he noted the way he smiled at the woman before him. Suddenly, any sort of sorry interruption Carlos could muster felt like it'd be an unwelcome intrusion.