Drive me Wild, Rival(BL)

Alaric

I groaned as I adjusted the tie around the collar of my shirt. I couldn’t breathe, not because of the tie but because of the video I had spent hours rewatching.

Tonight was a fundraising night for leukemia patients, and I received an invitation after announcing my comeback weeks ago. Now, on my way to the venue in a black limousine sent by my agency, I couldn’t stop groaning because I was watching the interview that Nico Park had done.

I had already replayed the interview five times that night and that should have been the end of it, but I didn’t stop because my fingers kept pressing the start button.

"...because I don’t give back what I’ve already taken."

The reporters in the broadcast exploded with excitement as cameras flashed around him while Nico leaned back comfortably in his chair, looking as though the entire room belonged to him.

I scoffed loudly and dragged a hand through my hair.

"Arrogant bastard. Look at the way he is talking as if he owns the world!"

Beside me, Harold, my friend and the most irritating person I had ever known, leaned closer to the tablet and snorted. He rested one elbow against the door and tilted his head toward the screen with mild curiosity.

"Alaric, you’ve said that six times now."

"I’ve only said it four," I muttered.

Harold gave me a look that clearly suggested he did not believe me, but I ignored him and continued watching Nico’s interview on the tablet.

He was answering the reporters’ questions with irritating confidence, yet his voice was calm and smooth while the reporters scribbled every word down like he was delivering divine revelations instead of basic racing commentary.

I watched as the camera zoomed closer to his face.

His brown eyes caught the studio lights. They were warm and sharp at the same time, framed by lashes that made the reporters around him look as if they had momentarily forgotten their questions.

My jaw tightened slightly because I hated how irritating he sounded.

"How can someone be this pretty and annoying?" I muttered.

Harold burst into laughter.

"Oh, this is priceless."

I shot him an annoyed look.

"What?"

"You’re staring."

"I’m analyzing."

"You’re admiring."

"I am not admiring Nico Park. Hell no! There is no way."

Harold leaned slightly toward the tablet, studying the screen as if he were inspecting a rare painting.

"You’re staring at his eyes," he said calmly. "They are beautiful, admit it!"

I hesitated for a moment before replying flatly.

"They’re noticeable."

Harold shook his head in disbelief and leaned back in his seat again.

"Two years away from racing and the first thing you fall in love with is your rival."

"I am not in love with him. Why the hell are you—"

"Then stop replaying the interview."

My thumb hovered over the screen again for a moment, then I locked the tablet and tossed it onto the seat beside me.

"I wasn’t replaying it."

Harold smirked.

"You absolutely were."

Harold watched the street for a moment before glancing back at me.

"The broadcast doesn’t matter."

I crossed my arms.

"Oh?"

"It’s just noise," he said dismissively. "Interviews, headlines, reporters worshipping the new golden boy of the grid. None of that means anything, especially to you."

His gaze flicked briefly toward the tablet.

"What matters is what happens when you return."

The words settled into the air between us.

Return.

That word kept me going during the accident two years ago. The doctors had told me my career was finished.

Two years ago the world watched as my agency announced my hiatus indefinitely. My father died, and my brother’s life changed forever.

Now the same world was waiting to see whether the fallen king could still drive. Everyone was already spreading rumors about whether I could still hold the wheel.

It was then that I met Harold, who became my best friend. He was the only one who had been beside me through everything.

The only person who never left even when my world fell apart.

"Hey, look."

Harold tapped the window lightly and nodded toward the bright building ahead.

The venue glittered like a palace of glass and gold beneath the evening sky while dozens of reporters crowded behind barricades outside the entrance.

Camera flashes sparked constantly as celebrities and executives stepped onto the carpet.

Harold gestured toward the scene.

"That," he said calmly, "is where you start taking everything back. I want you to know that from this public appearance tonight, you show them that you prepared for this for months. And I want you to know that I am always by your side."

I nodded and stared at the crowd for a moment before leaning forward slightly.

The driver slowed the car as we approached the entrance.

Harold straightened his jacket and glanced at me.

"Focus on tonight. I want you to let the world know that you are back."

I exhaled slowly.

"You’re right."

"Of course I am," he chuckled and patted me on the shoulder.

The car came to a stop and the driver stepped out first before opening the door.

The moment my foot touched the red carpet, the crowd exploded.

"ALARIC DE VILLIER!"

"Is it true you’re returning to Formula One next season?"

"Can you confirm the contract with Ferrari?"

"How does it feel to be back after the accident?"

Microphones and cameras surged toward me like a tidal wave while security struggled to keep the reporters behind the barricades.

I adjusted the cuff of my suit calmly and stepped forward.

"Yes," I said smoothly. "I’ll be returning next season."

The reporters erupted immediately, bombarding me with more questions.

"Are you fully recovered?"

"I wouldn’t be standing here if I wasn’t," I responded.

"Do you think you can still compete with the current top drivers after two years away?"

I smiled faintly and then turned toward the reporter who had asked the question.

"I may have been gone for two years, but I didn’t forget how to drive."

Several reporters laughed while others scribbled furiously in their notebooks.

Another microphone pushed forward.

"Do you believe you can reclaim your previous dominance on the grid since it’s being held by Nico Park now?"

"Dominance?" I repeated thoughtfully.

I tilted my head slightly.

"I think we’ll find out soon enough."

The crowd buzzed with excitement.

Then suddenly another wave of cheers erupted from the opposite end of the carpet.

"Nico Park has arrived!"

The reporters turned instantly as the white limousine door opened.

Nico Park stepped out with the kind of effortless confidence that made the cameras flash even brighter, his tall frame unfolding from the car in a perfectly tailored black suit that clung to his shoulders and waist like it had been sculpted onto him.

His hair was styled in a sharp undercut, the dark strands swept neatly back so that nothing hid the clean lines of his face, and the bright lights caught against his skin in a way that made the photographers nearly lose their composure.

When he lifted his head, his eyes were visible even from across the carpet, warm brown and dangerously focused, the kind of eyes that looked calm on the surface while hiding something far sharper beneath.

For a moment the entire entrance seemed to revolve around him as he straightened his jacket and glanced toward the crowd, the reporters practically stumbling over themselves just to get closer.

I realized a second too late that I had stopped moving entirely, my gaze fixed on him until our eyes met.

And he smirked at me.

Someone near the photographers shouted.

"Both drivers together!"

The event coordinator hurried over nervously.

"The photographers would like a picture of both of you."

Of course they would. Who wouldn’t want to see the reigning champion and the former champion in one picture?

My eyes never left Nico’s as he approached until he stopped in front of me.

For a moment we simply stared at each other.

Then he extended his hand.

"Alaric de Villier," I introduced myself as I shook his hand, even though he obviously already knew who I was.

"Nico Park," he responded, tightening his grip around mine as if the handshake was a competition.

The cameras went insane, doubling the flashes of their lights, but my attention wasn’t on that anymore.

It was on how Nico’s large palm had encircled mine and sent an unexpected shiver running down my spine.