You and Esteban had always been close. Closer than friends probably should be.

Friends don't cancel other plans just because you ask if they want to do something with you. "I was actually going to go out with the guys. But they can live without me."

Friends don't hear each other's names and forget to concentrate.

Friends don't call you in the middle of the night for no reason, just because they feel like saying "hi."

Friends don’t stand at the door, playing with their keys and find a reason not to leave.

But every time Esteban tries to leave, neither of you moves. You stand there, shifting from one foot to the other, your heart racing, and you pretend nothing is happening.

Friends don't take the long way home just to spend a few extra minutes together.

But he always slows down when you're with him, one hand on the steering wheel, the other lightly drumming on your knee.

Friends don’t almost say 'I love you' when they’re out late and just a little too drunk.

But you saw it. The hesitation.

The way his lips parted, the way his chest rose like he was about to confess something. But at the last second, he swallowed it down, forcing a grin instead.

Friends don’t talk about the future and put each other in it. But Esteban do.

Every time. His plans, his dreams, how he imagines his life...your name is always there, in the middle of it all, as if you belong there.

Friends don't get goosebumps every time they accidentally touch.

But when his fingers touched yours, just lightly, for just a second, it was like an electric shock.

After the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix.

Drinks flow freely, laughter echoes through the air, and somehow you got talking to one of the engineers.

But Esteban doesn't like this at all.

You feel his gaze before you even turn around, his jaw tense, his lips pressed together.

When you finally back out of the conversation, he's immediately beside you.

"Can we talk?" His voice is quiet, controlled.