viii. i fall to pieces when i'm with you.
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BLIND ITEM #55:

Word around the paddock is that a certain smooth-talking Spanish driver and a certain blonde supermodel have been spending a little too much time in each other's company. Sources say their chemistry was impossible to miss during late-night celebrations after a recent race, with whispers of stolen glances and hushed conversations.

Though both parties are keeping their lips sealed, insiders claim their "friendship" heated up just as her high-profile breakup was making headlines. If true, this secret fling would have been happening right under everyone's noses—and in the world of Formula 1, secrets never stay buried for long. As one source put it, "They thought no one noticed, but in this sport, someone's always watching."

Allegedly: Carlos Sainz Jr / Augustine Slade

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Augustine sat cross-legged on the plush rug of her dimly lit apartment, a glass of wine cradled in her hands. Carlos was across from her, leaning back on his palms, his legs stretched out like he didn't have a care in the world. But his eyes gave him away—dark, probing, and far too serious for the playful smirk that usually adorned his face. Between them on the coffee table was a tablet, its dimly lit screen open to the blind item that had the entire paddock — and general public — buzzing.

"So," he began, his voice low and steady, "are we going to talk about it, or are we just going to pretend this doesn't exist?"

"Does it bother you...?" she asks as she scans the blind item on the tablet, "that they... know...?" she asks and tilts her head, her tone clipped, "it's not a secret Carlos, I've been spotted leaving your apartment multiple times now."

His gaze softens, his teeth click in response. "That's not what I'm asking, Augustine. I'm asking if you feel guilty about it."

She froze, her wine glass halfway to her lips; for a moment, the room feels small and suffocating... and quiet. Augustine hates the quiet. She settles her glass in her lap and then glances at him, her eyebrows knitting together, "Do you mean guilty about Max or..." she trails off, the silent about us lingers in the air, she doesn't have to say it, it's obvious.

"Both." Carlos respond, his voice soft and his tone is filled with precaution, "it's not everyday someone rebounds with their ex's former teammate..."

Augustine lets out a dry laugh, shaking her head as she swirls her wine in her glass, "no, I don't feel bad, at all." she says softly and looks up at him, "Max and I... we weren't really doing well anyway." a slight silence fills the space between them for a second, "and I'm not going to lie and say I feel bad about..." she pauses and studies him for a second before continuing, "us... if anything I should feel bad for how much I don't regret it."

Carlos's lips quirked into a faint smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You say that now," he murmured, watching her closely. "But this sport has a way of making things complicated. You sure you're ready for that?"

She stared at him, her jaw tightening. "Since when do you care about complications?"

He leaned forward, his voice dropping just slightly. "Since they involve you."

For once, Augustine didn't have a sharp reply. Instead, she reached for her wine glass again, her thoughts spinning as Carlos watched her in that disarming way of his, like he already knew exactly what she was thinking. It's alarming how easily she allows herself to be comfortable with him.

Augustine raised her glass, trying to mask the sudden heat creeping up her neck. She tilted her head, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "You know, Carlos," she said, her voice forced into a playful lilt, "for someone who likes to live in the moment, you're awfully concerned about the fallout of a little fun."

Carlos arched an eyebrow, his smirk barely visible now. "A little fun?" he repeated, his voice low and edged with something dangerous.

"Yes," she said, her tone becoming sharper to cover her nerves. "I mean, sure, it's a scandal now, but in a week? People will move on to the next juicy rumor. Maybe someone will catch you sneaking out of some Monaco heiress's villa—"

Before she could finish, Carlos closed the gap between them in a swift, deliberate move. His lips pressed against hers, firm and commanding, stealing her breath and every thought she'd been trying to cobble together. The kiss was intense but brief, enough to leave her stunned, her wine glass frozen halfway to the table.

When he pulled back, he stayed close, his voice barely above a whisper. "Shut up," he said, his lips brushing hers as he spoke. "You talk too much."

Augustine blinked, her smirk gone, replaced by wide-eyed silence. For a moment, she could only stare at him, her usual arsenal of sharp comebacks completely obliterated. Carlos leaned back just enough to smirk, the faintest glint of triumph in his eyes. She opened her mouth to retort, but all that came out was a breathless laugh, her cheeks still burning. "You're insufferable." she breathes, her tone light and airy.

"And yet," Carlos said, leaning closer again, "you're still here."

This time, when he kissed her, she didn't pull away.

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