A race to your heart (Zarry AU)

18.- Playing Games? 🏁

Zayn's POV

And Harry thought he had me again.

Every move Harry made was calculated, an intricate dance to pull me back into his orbit. I know him. He doesn't like not being the center of attention. But I wasn't the same person who had fallen head over heels the first time. I'd learned the hard way that getting too close to him meant losing myself, and I couldn't afford to make that mistake again.

The toxic cycles we'd fallen into before weren't something I could justify, not even to myself. But the truth was, even though he had ended things to focus on his career, he wasn't ready to let go—and to be honest neither was I.

Our close "friendship" and the recent incident with Sainz had sparked rumors about my sexuality, rumors that were uncomfortably close to the truth. My father, always so supportive, had approached me cautiously, bringing up the topic with an air of concern. He told me he was proud of me, regardless of my preferences, but there was a hint of disappointment in his eyes that I couldn't shake. And then there was the hate online, the vile comments that gnawed at the edges of my confidence. No, as much as Harry and I had something real, I wasn't ready to face the world with it as I thought. I was a coward, maybe.

But in that moment, I pushed all those thoughts aside and focused on him. Harry. I needed to be with him one last time. I swore to myself it would just be this once.

After we spent that night together, Harry left before dawn, slipping away like a phantom in the early morning light. Not long after, I heard he had broken up with Emily. Again. Or maybe they were never back together.

Weeks later, back at the racetrack, things between us had cooled. There was no more tension, just an unspoken understanding. That brief encounter had grounded me, and I found the confidence that had been missing lately. For a moment, I thought maybe Harry felt the same—that we had both moved on in our way. I still loved him, of course, but our relationship had a way of bringing out the worst in me. The anxiety, the jealousy, the pettiness.

It was race weekend again, and this time we were at Silverstone. Our home Grand Prix. Harry was restless, eager to get me alone.

After an exceptional day on the track, I secured pole position with Harry right behind me. The adrenaline of the day still buzzed through my veins when Harry approached me.

"Zayn, can I talk to you?" Harry asked, his eyes searching mine.

"Sure," I nodded, dismissing Paul, my performance manager, with a wave. "See you later, Paul."

I led Harry into the Mercedes motorhome, where we could talk privately. The buzz of the paddock faded as we found a quiet room.

"When can I see you again, Zee? It's been weeks since we... were together," Harry said, his voice tinged with longing.

I could still feel the warmth of his body against mine from that night. "I thought we were through, Harry. I mean, after the way you left, I assumed..."

"Through? No, please don't say that. I was embarrassed, to show up at your place like that. Can we talk about it?" he asked, almost pleading.

I hesitated, then suggested, "I can meet you tomorrow night after the race. Your place?"

"Why not tonight?" he pressed, impatience clear in his voice.

"I can't. I need to rest for tomorrow's race," I said, trying to keep my tone neutral.

"But... I miss you. It's been ages, baby, please?" he whispered, his eyes locking onto mine.

"I'm sorry, I can't. I've gotta go. See you tomorrow, yeah?" I said, caressing his face before walking away.