Drive me Wild, Rival(BL)

Chapter 132: Accidental kiss

Nico

If looks could kill then Alaric would have buried me a long time ago with every murderous glare he throws at me.

He hated how easily I could get under his skin, especially when we were standing shoulder to shoulder with fifty lenses tracking our every micro-expression.

​The reporters chuckled at the cracks, completely oblivious to the thick, underlying tension snapping between us like a live wire.

They had no idea how badly I wanted to pull him into my arms and kiss him right there.

As we broke away from the media circle to head toward the podium for the celebration, my teammate, Ethan, caught up to me, looking entirely stressed as he handed me a fresh towel.

​"Nico, what the hell was that?" Ethan muttered, leaning in close, his eyes darting toward the retreating backs of the press. "What is happening to you out there? You had the straight-line speed to challenge him. The data showed you lifted early on the approach to the chicane so why the hell did you fall behind him?"

​"My shoulder still hurts, Ethan," I repeated the excuse quietly, giving him a quick, dismissive pat on the back before stepping onto the elevated podium structure, leaving him standing there with his clipboard and his anxiety.

​As we stood there for the podium celebration, the national anthems playing loudly over the speakers, the heavy brass instruments vibrating through the floorboards under my boots, I completely stopped paying attention to the crowd.

The sea of waving flags and roaring fans blurred into a background of shifting colors.

I couldn’t stop staring at Alaric. He was standing on the top step, the first-place trophy gripped tightly in his long fingers, looking every bit like the king he was born to be.

Because of my injury, I had not been present at the last podium ceremony but now seeing him standing there, I realized why I had looked up to him.

He was perfect and deserved to be a three-time champion.

The wind caught his dark hair, and the late afternoon sun hit his silhouette, outlining him in a sharp, golden glow.

​Suddenly, his gaze shifted, and our eyes met.

​The roaring crowd, the flashing lights, the blaring music—it all drowned out slowly right there.

The noise of the Suzuka circuit vanished into a vacuum. It was as if a heavy silence descended over the entire stadium, leaving just the two of us standing in the center of the universe.

We stared at each other for a long, heavy moment, a silent, weighted conversation passing between us through the cool air, and yet again I wanted to kiss him in front of the cameras and confess that I love him.

​You won, my eyes told him, my chest rising with a quiet breath. Now ask me your question. Make me do whatever it is you’ve been burning to ask since Osaka.

​I smiled softly at him, the expression entirely genuine, entirely soft, stripping away the arrogant facade I wore for the media.

But he just looked away.

​When it was finally time to pop the champagne, the silence shattered instantly. The traditional electronic beat dropped over the speakers, and the crowd erupted.

I grabbed my massive green bottle, peeled the foil with a swift twist, and shook it aggressively, letting the pressure build until the cork blew clean off. I happily sprayed the heavy, pressurized foam directly into his face, catching him completely off guard.

​"Nico, you bastard!" Alaric yelled, laughing as he was blinded by the white spray, his eyelashes clumped together with the sticky liquid. He immediately grabbed his own bottle, shaking it violently as he retaliated, aiming the stream right at my chest and drenching me from head to toe until my racing suit stuck to my skin.

​We staggered around the podium, our boots slipping on the wet, metallic surface, completely caught up in the chaotic, breathless laughter of the moment.

The adrenaline from the race was still buzzing in our veins, making everything feel heightened, dizzying, and loud.

Alaric lunged forward, a wicked grin breaking across his face as he prepared to dump the remaining contents of his bottle directly over my head.

​But as he put his weight down, his foot lost traction on the slick, champagne-soaked floor.

​His eyes went wide as he tripped forward. His hands instinctively reached out, abandoning his bottle as he grabbed onto the front of my racing suit for balance, his fingers twisting into the damp fabric.

​The sudden weight sent us both crashing down.

​We hit the podium floor with a heavy, echoing thud, winding up completely tangled together on the slick metal.

I was lying flat on my back, the impact knocking the wind clean out of my lungs, and Alaric was directly on top of me. His hands were planted firmly on either side of my shoulders, his arms locked straight to steady himself from crushing me completely.

And then his lips were on mine.

My eyes widened in shock and then my heart started pounding wildly in my chest when I heard the clicks of the cameras.

For a long, suspended moment, neither of us moved.

We just lay there, our lips still touching until we heard the gasps around Alaric and us pulled away immediately trying so hard to get up but he tripped again and landed into my arms this time.

I looked right back up at him, my hands moving on instinct, coming up to rest lightly against the damp fabric of his waist, my fingers holding him there.

The second time was crazier than the first because now I could tell everyone had something to say about us.

​We were completely frozen in our own little bubble, oblivious to where we were, oblivious to the thousands of people screaming our names from the grandstands.

The blinding flashes of cameras wouldn’t stop as they started going off over and over again right at us from the media pit below, the shutter sounds echoing like a rapid-fire warning that the entire world was watching us fall apart on the stage.