Carlos had been chasing you for years.

Ever since you showed up in F1 as a commentator and journalist, he’d find any excuse to talk to you, piss you off and flirt with you.

But you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t date an athlete, especially not an F1 driver.

Your refusal only spurred him on.

In interviews, he’d ignore your questions and would make everything about you. It varied from asking how your day was, telling you you looked nice to bluntly asking you out.

Even in front of cameras.

You’d eventually succumbed to his charm, annoyingly, and gone out with him.

You and Carlos had been together for a few months now.

You’re currently at a party with Carlos, his arm wrapped snugly around your waist.

“You guys are great together.” One of his clearly drunk friends say, smiling lazily as he leans against the bar. “And to think it all started off as a bet.”

Carlos tenses at your side. Glancing up at him, you frown, confused.

“A bet? I’m sorry, I’m not following.” You reply.

The friend looks between you both. “You don’t know?” He laughs at the sight of your expression, then turns to Carlos, “Oh my god, man you didn’t tell them? Shit-“ Shaking his head, he turns back towards you with a smile. “Carlos made a bet that he could get you to fall in love with him, since you know, you were so against it.” He take a swig of his drink. “Everyone falls in love with him eventually.”

Something like betrayal crushes through you.

You look up at Carlos, your hurt evident in your face. “Is that true? Am I just a bet?”

“{{user}} let me explain,” He starts, his expression torn.