CAIRO'S POV:
"I still don't get why we're doing this."
Nadine's voice bounced lazily off the walls of my living room.
She was sitting cross-legged on my couch, her hair tied up in a messy bun, my oversized hoodie hanging loose on her shoulders.
She looked like she lived here—which, unfortunately for her peace of mind, was the entire point of the staging.
I didn't even glance up from cleaning my racing visor. "Because I like it when she's annoyed."
Nadine scoffed, loud and disbelieving. "You're joking. You're a literal psychopath, Cairo."
I wasn't joking.
The way Elara's entire face transformed when she was frustrated—eyebrows pulled together, that ridiculous little twitch of her upper lip like she was resisting the urge to scream—was... amusing.
Like watching a cartoon character malfunction.
Only, she was real.
Too real, sometimes.
Ever since I helped her clean that ridiculous dog landmine off her shoe in the parking lot, she had been avoiding me.
She thought she was being a master spy, tracking my car's arrival and hiding behind the hallway plants with her friend Ari.
I saw her every single time.
My hallway security camera feed was practically an Elara reality show.
"She's coming," I said calmly, eyes flicking toward the monitor showing the elevator bay. "Make sure she sees you in the hoodie."
Nadine groaned but stood anyway, stretching.
She was only doing this because she owed me a favor for helping her cousin with a car sponsorship, but she was fully committing to the bit. "Fine. But if this blows up, I'm not dragging your body from the flames."
She padded to the open door and leaned against the frame, pulling the hood up like some clingy, possessive girlfriend.
Right on cue, the elevator dinged.
Elara stepped out.
She was wearing an oversized navy blue blazer with gold buttons that made her look like a luxury ship captain.
Her heels clacked across the hallway tiles, each step overly practiced.
Her gaze swept the hallway with casual indifference, but the moment she spotted me standing there—with Nadine lounging behind me in my clothes—her entire body stiffened.
There it was.
That split-second panic in her eyes.
The drama.
God, she was so easy to read it was almost dangerous.
"Elara," I said, nodding politely.
She blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Her expression rearranged itself with dramatic flair.
"Oh," she said, drawing out the word like it was poisoned. "Wow. What a pleasant coincidence."
I kept my face completely blank. "Going somewhere?"
She tilted her head, folding her arms. "Actually, I was just… walking. Breathing air. You know, that thing humans do?"
"Of course."
I saw her eyes flick to Nadine, then down to the fabric of the hoodie.
Elara's voice dipped to a sugar-coated but dangerous pitch. "Nice hoodie."
"Thanks," Nadine replied, playing her part flawlessly—cool and unbothered.
The silence stretched.
Elara shifted her weight, clearly hating being the outsider in the scene.
Her nose scrunched up, and I caught her staring directly at me, waiting for an explanation.
I didn't give her one.
She let out a quiet "hmp," then turned on her heel, her blazer flaring behind her like she was storming off a Paris runway.
The moment the elevator doors closed behind her, Nadine dropped the act and threw the hood off.
"You're insane," Nadine muttered, shaking her head. "Completely unhinged. She clearly likes you, and you're out here playing 4D chess with her sanity."
I just sat back down on the couch, a small smile finally tugging at my lips.
She liked me.
And I liked watching her try so hard to pretend she didn't.
Later that afternoon, after Nadine left, my phone buzzed.
It was a voice note from Elara.
0:09 seconds. I played it.
"Okay, first of all, rude," her voice came through, breathy and annoyed. "Second of all, wow. If you think this little 'display' with hoodie girl is gonna get under my skin—well, it kind of did! But only because you're weird! That's it, that's all. Goodbye!"
I stared at the screen.
I didn't reply, but I saved the audio file.
I played it again.
Then once more.
Underneath all that forced bravado, she sounded tired, and it made me feel a sudden, unexpected twist in my chest.
The next day at the racetrack, things got out of hand.
My PR team had invited Nadine for a celebrity guest feature to boost media coverage for the season finals.
I didn't mind it, until I saw Elara sitting in the bleachers, hiding behind giant sunglasses next to her friend.
When Nadine gave that sugary interview at the pit lane, I saw Elara turning bright red from the stands.
When I walked over to thank Nadine for the PR appearance, she gave me a brief, friendly hug for the cameras.
But my eyes weren't on the reporters.
They were on the bleachers.
Through my helmet visor, I locked eyes with Elara.
She looked small.
Uncharacteristically quiet.
The dramatic, loud, animated girl who had screamed into a throw pillow inside her unit because I saw her face rollers was suddenly looking at me like she didn't belong in my world.
I hated it.
I hated the silence on her face.
The moment the race ended and I cleared the podium, I didn't even wait for the post-race press briefing. I pulled off my helmet, ignored the sponsors calling my name, and scanned the crowds.
She was already leaving, walking away down the bleacher stairs.
"Elara!" I called out, jogging toward the boundary fence.
She froze.
She turned around slowly, her giant sunglasses slipping down her nose just enough for me to see her wide, curious eyes.
I reached the fence, breathless, sweat dripping down my neck, and for the first time in a very long time, I didn't care about keeping up a mysterious, unreadable wall.
I looked right at her and smiled.
"Elara," I said, my voice cutting through the noise of the racetrack. "Wait. Let me drive you home."