Nico

The Bahrain International Circuit media pen was its usual controlled chaos after FP2. Cameras flashed brightly, the kind of relentless glare that would blind an average person who wasn’t used to that lifestyle.

Microphones bristled on stands, and reporters crowded the long table where drivers from different teams stood shoulder to shoulder for the group session.

The Friday afternoon sun blazed down, making the air feel thick and heavy even under the shaded canopy. Sweat clung to the back of my neck as I stood between my teammate and a couple of other drivers, but my attention kept drifting to the man two spots away.

Alaric de Villier.

He looked more composed unlike when I had made him flustered earlier. His expression was neutral as he listened to the questions. But I knew him well enough now to see the tension in his jaw and the way his fingers flexed at his sides.

The first question that came was predictable. Something I had expected.

A British reporter from Sky Sports leaned forward with a bright smile. "Nico, Alaric, the Apex Sportswear campaign you shot together has been a massive success. It sold millions of dollars in the first week alone, breaking records for the brand. That kind of chemistry on camera is rare. Has working together on the campaign made either of you think about collaborating more closely in the future, maybe even as teammates one day?"

The room went quiet at the question, and the cameras zoomed in on our faces.

I looked towards Alaric, and when he didn’t say anything, I answered, keeping the calm and professional tone I always had.

"No. The campaign was strictly business. We did our job, and that was it. Right now I’m focused on the race and winning it again this year."

Once I finished talking, all eyes turned towards Alaric.

He answered immediately, also keeping his voice steady and professional. "We had a professional photoshoot and that was all. There is no way we could ever be teammates, and I am also focused on the race."

The reporter nodded, but another journalist jumped in quickly. "Alaric, you’ve been away from the grid for two years. How does it feel to be back, and do you think the campaign success has added extra pressure or distraction heading into this weekend?"

The question made Alaric’s shoulders stiffen. I didn’t even like the question.

"There is no extra pressure. Like I said, the campaign was work. Racing is what matters and I am here to compete, that’s all."

He handled the question well, but we both knew that aside from the racing, there was something going through his mind, and that was me.

A German reporter from Bild turned to me next. "Nico, you’ve been leading for two years. Do you see yourself winning this weekend, or is the return of Alaric de Villier going to make things more interesting for Red Bull?"

Before I could answer, Kelvin McRae, Mercedes’ first driver, let out a low, cocky laugh from the other end of the table. He was tall and athletic, with dark curly hair that always looked artfully messy, warm brown skin, and striking green eyes that came from his famous figure skater Scottish mother.

Kelvin was a talented racer but one of the cockiest ones. He had an ego bigger than a mountain, and through last season he got on my nerves. Now he was doing that again.

"Interesting?" Kelvin said, flashing a wide grin that showed perfect white teeth. "Come on, let’s be real. Alaric’s been away for two years. He’s rusty. It was evident in the video of the test drive he had with Park a few days ago. That was just practice, yet he lost. This weekend is the real thing, and I am not sure he still has that spark like before."

The room erupted in murmurs and camera clicks.

My jaw tightened as I watched him, and thinking that he was done, I leaned forward, but Kelvin beat me to it.

"No offense, Alaric, but you’ve got to earn your place back. I’ve been fighting for podiums while you were gone. This weekend? I’m taking the win. Nico can fight me for second if he wants."

Now that was reaching.

Kelvin was good, very good, but his cockiness always grated on me. He had been my direct rival for the past two seasons, consistently finishing right behind me in the standings. Now he was using Alaric’s return as fuel for his own narrative.

I wanted to tell him to shut up and remind him of who was always behind me, but I held it in because Alaric had leaned forward to speak.

"Thanks for the observation, McRae. I don’t need to earn anything from you. There is a reason why I had three championships. Now that I am back and you get the chance to race me, I would like it if you prove it on track instead of talking about it."

Kelvin laughed again, sounding loud and confident. "Oh, I will. Watch me."

I almost groaned out in anger. I hated how he was talking down on Alaric. The only person allowed to do that was me.

Before I could speak again, the reporter asked another question. "Nico, as the reigning champion, do you see any real threat from either Alaric or Kelvin this weekend?"

I kept my expression neutral as I nodded. "I’m focused on my own performance. Red Bull is here to win another championship. Whoever wants to challenge me is welcome to try."

Another journalist jumped in. "Alaric, after two years away, what’s your goal for this race? Podium? Win? Or are you just happy to be back?"

Alaric looked directly at me as he spoke. "I am here to destroy Nico Park’s winning streak. He got there because I was away. Now I am taking it back from him."

I scoffed at his joke that sounded like a threat. I wasn’t even offended. I just found it amusing that he was bent on competing with me.

"Big words for someone who just got cooked during a race last week. But hey, dreams are free, right?"

The session continued with more questions directed at us and the other drivers. We all answered professionally until it finally came to an end.

Afterward, I waited patiently for Alaric. As he started walking off, I caught up, pulled him into a quiet corner.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded as I slammed him against the wall.

"I came to remind you about the bet, princess. Are you in or not?"

"Fuck off!" he yelled.

I smirked, then suddenly let out a dramatic scream. "Alaric saw my cock!"

I tried to repeat it louder, but Alaric clamped his hand over my mouth, cursing angrily under his breath. He heaved a deep sigh, then asked, "What the hell is this stupid bet anyways?"

I smiled. "If I win, I want you to prepare me a meal at your place."

He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. "You’re out of your mind."

I chuckled. "Can’t you cook? Just say it if you can’t."

"Who says I can’t cook?" he shot back. "What about you? What happens if you lose?"

"Princess, I won’t lose," I said confidently. "But if I do, I’m going to fuck you on your kitchen table."

His eyes widened as soon as the words rolled out of my mouth.

I tapped his shoulders gently and added with a smirk, "I hope you get second period tomorrow so you can prepare for Sunday. Good luck, princess."