𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫 │Nishimura Riki

「 ⩩ 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 Liliana swore off F1 drivers after a situationship gone wrong-until Ni-ki, the coldest racer on the grid, offers her a fake relationship she should have said no to.」

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Lily sighed, the sound heavy. She turned her head slightly to meet his gaze, her voice barely a whisper. "What the heck are we doing?

"You tell me," he said, his voice now a low, dangerous murmur, like a blade wrapped in velvet. The words cut, precise and cold. "You're the one who keeps insisting this is casual."

"Because it is casual. We made a deal. That's precisely what this is."

"Right," he scoffed, the sound a sharp, brittle shard of irony. "A deal. With carefully managed timelines and choreographed fake flirting and matching outfits and-whatever this is." He gestured vaguely at the small, white flower still tucked innocently behind her ear, its delicate petals stark against her dark hair.

"You're the one who initiated this, Ni-ki. You wanted this."

"Yeah, well, maybe I didn't think it would feel so-" He stopped himself abruptly, jaw clenching, his gaze darting away as if the very words he was about to speak were a betrayal. "Forget it."

"No, say it," she challenged, the words slipping out, propelled by a dangerous curiosity before she could even register them.

"You want me to spell it out, Liliana?" he asked, looking back at her now, his head shaking slowly, a profound, aching regret etched into his sharp features. "We were supposed to fake-date to distract the media and make some exes jealous. Not end up sneaking into each other's heads at night."

"You think I wanted that? You think I asked for this?"

"You shouldn't," he snapped, rising to his feet as well, his proximity suddenly stifling, overwhelming. "Not if it's casual, remember?"

"Maybe you're right," she said quietly. She brushed past him, the contact brief, electric, yet she kept m