Drive me Wild, Rival(BL)

Nico

"You’ve been staring at that screen all night," Sophia pointed out, her voice cutting through the low thrum of bass in the Vip lounge. She raised her crystal glass of whiskey to her lips, taking a slow sip as her sharp eyes watched me over the rim.

I didn’t answer right away. I just frowned, my thumb swiping across the glass screen of my phone for what felt like the hundredth time. I kept refreshing my social media notifications, checking whether Alaric had viewed or reacted to my recent posts—especially the photo I’d posted with Sophia earlier that day. But his handle was nowhere to be found. No view, no sign of life, no silent signal that he was watching. Just complete, agonizing absence.

Why wouldn’t he check it out? Does he not care about us anymore? So many thoughts flooded my head as i tried to think about the reasons why he had not bothered to check my story because even though we had been apart these past few days, he was always checking his insta stories but now, he just disappeared.

Sophia set her glass down with a soft, heavy click against the dark mahogany table. "Why are you sitting here wallowing in regret now? Weren’t you the one who insisted on giving him the cold shoulder in the first place?"

I let out a heavy sigh and ran both hands through my hair, clutching the strands tightly as frustration built inside me, threatening to spill over. "Right. I thought... I thought he just wanted space. Because after everything that happened that night, I was the one who pulled back first. I told myself that if I gave him space, if I just stepped out of his way for a little while, we’d both cool off and... and figure it out..."

Sophia leaned across the plush leather booth, placing a steady hand on my shoulder. "It’s alright, Nico," she said gently. "I understand why you both felt like you needed room to breathe. But you can’t keep using ’space’ as an excuse forever. If you let this silence stretch out any longer, that space is going to turn into an ocean, and your relationship will fall apart completely. You have to talk to him before the distance permanently breaks what you’re trying to build."

I stared blankly at the dark screen in my palm, my chest aching. "I’ve been lying to him, Soph," I confessed, my voice barely audible over the music. "I love him so much... so damn much it terrifies me. But back at the Miami race, I couldn’t even bring myself to face him or look him in the eye through our visors. I was so overwhelmed by guilt and fear that I convinced myself he hated me. I thought every time he looked at me, all he felt was resentment and when he tried to talk to me, I refused and I hate myself now.’’

Sophia patted my back reassuringly, her eyes softening with genuine concern. "If you miss him that much, Nico, then stop hiding behind these walls and just go to him."

"It isn’t that simple!" I snapped quietly, a frantic edge creeping into my tone as I looked around the dimly lit VIP lounge. "We can’t just meet up whenever we feel like it without an airtight arrangement! We have eyes on us constantly—the media, the fans, our teams. If even one photographer catches us in the wrong place, we could both be ruined by our agencies! I’m trying to keep him safe!"

"Ugh, fine," Sophia sighed, picking up her leather purse from the seat beside her without a second thought. She unzipped it and pulled out her phone. "Then I’ll call him for you right now. You look completely miserable, Nico, and I refuse to sit here watching you drown in your own dramatic sorrow. I’m calling him."

"No—stop!" I reached across the table quickly, my fingers closing around her wrist to stop her before she could dial. "Don’t. This is my mess, Sophia. It’s mine to carry. If anyone’s going to break this silence, it has to be me."

Sophia looked at me for a long moment before slowly lowering her phone, nodding in reluctant agreement.

I released her wrist and looked back down at my phone resting on the table. Just as I was about to tuck it away into my jacket, the display lit up, vibrating against the wood.

My heart leaped straight into my throat before I could even read the contact name. A wild surge of hope flared in my chest. But when my eyes finally scanned the caller ID, disappointment crashed over me hard enough to feel physically sick.

It wasn’t Alaric.

I stared at the name Dami flashing on the screen.

My pulse raced from the sudden adrenaline spike, but I forced myself to swallow the bitter disappointment coating my tongue. I steadied my breathing, smoothed the tremor out of my voice, and swiped to accept the call.

"What is it, Dami?" I asked, keeping my tone deliberately cold, flat, and guarded.

"Nico! Thank God," Dami’s voice burst through the receiver, stripping away his usual calm, easygoing demeanor entirely. He sounded genuinely rattled, his breathing heavy and uneven. "It’s about Alaric. He’s... Nico, he’s not in a good condition right now."

The chatter of the lounge vanished from my perception. My blood went cold in an instant. I pushed myself up out of the booth, stepping away from the table and weaving through the lounge toward a quieter hallway, ignoring Sophia as she called out my name in confusion.

"What do you mean he’s not in a good condition?" I demanded, my hands shaking as I pressed the phone tightly against my ear. "Dami, answer me! What happened to him?!"

For a moment, there was silence at the end of the line. Dami didn’t say a word and I couldn’t wait as I bombarded him with more questions.

’’Tell me Dami! what happened to him?’’