unspoken words

Chapter 8: Shadows and Suspicions

(Charles's POV)

We were at the next Grand Prix, and the paddock was buzzing. I could feel eyes on us wherever we went. Fans, journalists—they all seemed to be watching, waiting for something to happen. And there was Carlos, distant but always near, his presence like a shadow I couldn't escape.

During a quiet moment, I pulled out my phone to answer a call. It was Camille, an old friend from back home. We chatted for a few minutes, catching up, and I didn't think much of it. But then, as I ended the call, I noticed Carlos standing nearby, his expression unreadable.

"Who was that?" he asked, his tone light but his gaze sharp.

I shrugged, slipping my phone back into my pocket. "Just a friend."

He nodded, but I could tell something was off. We'd always been open with each other, but now... there was a tension, a feeling like I was somehow letting him down.

(Author's POV)

Carlos tried to brush off the jealousy that gnawed at him, but it lingered. He'd seen Charles with other friends before—there was no reason for this to feel different. But it did. And as the race weekend progressed, Carlos found it harder and harder to focus.

The following evening, they found themselves at a team dinner. The conversation was light, the atmosphere celebratory, but beneath it all was an unspoken strain. Charles kept glancing at Carlos, as if waiting for him to say something. Carlos, in turn, struggled to mask his emotions.

Later that night, Carlos found himself standing outside Charles's hotel room, wrestling with the urge to knock. The silence of the hallway weighed on him, the uncertainty clawing at his resolve. But before he could gather his courage, the door opened, and Charles stood there, surprised.

"Carlos... were you—"

"I just wanted to check in," Carlos said quickly, searching for a reason to explain his presence. "You seemed... distracted tonight."

Charles's expression softened, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and something else, something Carlos couldn't quite name. "I could say the same about you," Charles murmured.

The space between them was charged, the air thick with unspoken words. For a brief, breathless moment, it felt like they might actually address what had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks. But the moment passed, and Carlos forced a smile.

"Just focus on the race tomorrow," he said, his voice sounding distant even to himself. "We both need a clear head."

(Charles's POV)

I watched him leave, feeling a hollow ache settle in my chest. Every time I got close to understanding this thing between us, he pulled away. It was like reaching for something only to have it slip through my fingers.

The next day, we were back on track, pushing our limits. But for the first time in a long time, my focus was scattered, my mind drifting back to that moment outside my hotel room, the look in Carlos's eyes that haunted me.

( i wrote all the story so far in 2 days , i am locked in 🫡, also i have no ideea where this is going it will be a surprise for me but also for you, hopefully it would go smooth and will be a good book)

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