Drive me Wild, Rival(BL)

Chapter 133: Are you dating Alaric de villier?

Nico

​"Are you dating Alaric de Villier?"

​The interviewer seated across from me for the press conference questioned, and I had almost rolled my eyes at the question. That was the umpteenth time I had heard those exact words, especially from different reporters over the last seventy-two hours.

My ears were practically ringing with it. And I had wished that they could ask another question instead of it.

​Alaric and I had displayed what they said was the craziest relationship ever in the whole of any sport history, or maybe it was just Formula 1.

It was right there at the podium, in front of everyone, that he had lost his footing on the damp floor, landed directly on my chest, and we had kissed.

An unplanned kiss that had our faces plastered on every sport news and even trending news worldwide.

We were the talk of Monaco, of every city where our fans were, and the media was treating it like the scandal of the century.

Who would have thought that the public exposure would happen that suddenly?

I knew that no one would have cared if we were not rivals.

​And that was three days ago.

​Three days since Alaric won twice in a row, and three days since I had not stopped this ridiculous interview cycle.

Our side was buzzing with different stories, and when I looked online trying to search my name, it was brought up along with Alaric’s every single time. It was one thing about the relationship and another about how I had let him win the race because we were pretending to be rivals.

​I had scrolled through the comments in my hotel room, my chest tightening at the sheer volume of opinions.

The comment sections were an absolute war zone:

​@grid_analyst: This is an absolute joke. Nico literally lifted off the throttle to let his boyfriend win. The integrity of the sport is completely gone.

​@vane_racing_fan: F1 is a racing sport, not a romance drama. If Park is more worried about locking lips on the podium than winning points, he needs to forfeit his seat.

​@anti_de villier: Alaric clearly used the distraction to steal P1. He’s pathetic for playing along with this circus just to get a trophy.

​@speedway_news: A total PR stunt to cover up the fact that Nico’s performance is slipping this season. They should both be fined by the stewards.

​@motorsport_daily: Disgusting behavior on live television. Keep your personal life off the track, it’s completely unprofessional.

​But through all the hate, there were so many fans shipping us as ’Alnico’, filling the tags with edits of the fall.

​@alnico_solos: OMG THE WAY THEY FELL TOGETHER?? The universe literally forced them to kiss, you cannot convince me otherwise!

​@formula_romance: I have been shipping Alnico ever since Alaric returned to the grid and I finally feel vindicated! The way Nico held his waist at the end? I’m screaming!

​@paddock_gossip: They are literally the main characters of the grid. Let them be happy, they look so beautiful together!

​There were so many fans shipping us, and there were so many others rebuking us. And through all of this, I had not heard a single word from Alaric.

​I had texted him, called him, even messaged him on Instagram, but he never responded. I never got any response in all those three days, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was fine.

Was he locking himself away because of the pressure? Was his team keeping him away from his phone? The silence was driving me entirely insane.

​"Back to the first question I asked you," the interviewer pressed on, leaning forward with a sharp grin. "Some fans said they had seen you entering into the penthouse where Alaric stays during off-race hours, and which is like weeks ago. And now they want to know if what you both have has been going on for weeks? Or even before then?"

​I almost groaned out, the muscles in my jaw tightening. But my manager, Dylan, was right by my side, subtly nudging my shoulder to answer the question exactly as we had planned in the PR briefing.

​"Those are probably altered photos," I said, almost biting my own tongue by how fake I had sounded. The lie tasted bitter in my mouth, but I had to keep the press from digging any deeper into our private hours.

​The interviewer didn’t look convinced at all, shifting his papers before dropping the next question. "If it was just an accident on a slippery podium, Nico, then why did the kiss last for several seconds before either of you pulled away? From the broadcast angle, it looked far from accidental."

​I forced a smooth, casual chuckle, leaning back in my chair to look as relaxed as possible. "When you get hit with the force of a six-foot driver tackling you onto solid metal, you tend to get a bit dazed. I was just trying to make sure he hadn’t broken my ribs, honestly. There was no intent behind it."

​"Right," the reporter murmured, writing something down before offering a sharp smile. "And for our final question—the public is wondering why Alaric’s side has not yet said anything or released an official statement regarding the incident. Will this affect how you face each other in the next match? You opened the match in Bahrain, played in Saudi Arabia, and just finished a dramatic weekend in Japan. The grid is heading to China next for the Shanghai Grand Prix. Alaric has been winning against you two times in a row now. What do you have planned to take back your dominance?"

​Staring straight into the lens of the main camera, my playful demeanor vanished, replaced by the cold, sharp edge of a driver who was done losing. "Alaric’s team will speak when they want to. As for China? I have no intention of losing again. The Shanghai circuit has a lot of long straights, and my car has the straight-line speed to leave him in my mirrors. The rivalry isn’t dead just because of a slippery podium floor. I’m taking P1 back."

​When the interview finally ended and the cameras shut off, I stood up immediately, ripping the microphone wire off my shirt.

Dylan followed closely behind me as we exited the press room and walked down the quiet, sterile corridor of the media center.

​"Nico, wait up," Dylan informed me, his face pale as he looked down at his buzzing phone. "The agency just called again. They want to see you at the headquarters immediately. The board members are panicking about the brand sponsors after that press conference, and they need to approve any future statements."

​"I don’t care about the agency right now, Dylan," I snapped, stopping in my tracks and turning to face him.

My voice dropped into a tense, desperate whisper. "What is happening with Alaric? I know you have something going on with Dorothy, his manager, so tell me where he is and where he has been hiding for three days."

​Dylan sighed heavily, looking around the hallway to make sure no lingering reporters were within earshot. He rubbed his temples, completely stressed. "If I tell you, will you actually go see the agency and handle the board members first?"

​I paused, clenching my fists inside my pockets, before I finally gave him a firm nod. "Yes. Just give me the location."

​Dylan checked his phone one last time before looking back up at me. "Dorothy said Alaric wanted to stay away from the media chaos so he went to his family’s vacation home. ’’

​​I took a deep breath, my heart pounding with a sudden, sharp determination. I had a meeting with the agency to get through, but the second I was done lying to the corporate suits, I was going to get on a flight to Monaco.

He owed me a response to my letter, and I wasn’t going to let him ignore me anymore.

And besides, I wanted him to know how I felt.