The city was alive around me—golden lights glimmering against the velvet dark sky, the hum of late-night traffic filling the streets below. But none of it mattered. My focus was on the girl standing in front of me.

I’d never been good at this—at emotions. On the track, my world was easy: clear lines, exact timings, perfect strategy. But with her, it was chaos. Unpredictable. And I hated how much I craved it.

She leaned against the railing of the rooftop, her hair catching the breeze, strands brushing across her cheek like they belonged there. I wanted to reach out, tuck them behind her ear, feel the warmth of her skin beneath my fingers. But I stayed still, hands shoved deep into the pockets of my jacket.

“You don’t make sense,” she said softly, eyes not quite meeting mine. “One moment you’re pulling me close, the next you’re building walls so high I can’t even see you anymore.”

Her words stung because they were true. I was a master at keeping people at a distance. Growing up in the spotlight had taught me that intimacy was dangerous. But somehow, she’d slipped past my defenses, and now every instinct screamed to protect myself.

“I’m not good for you,” I muttered. The confession tasted bitter. “I don’t know how to do this the right way.”

She finally looked at me, and God, those eyes—so clear, so full of something I didn’t think I deserved. “Maybe I don’t need perfect, Lando. Maybe I just need you.”

Something inside me snapped then—not in anger, but in surrender. All the walls, all the careful control, crumbled under the weight of her honesty. I stepped closer, my chest tightening with every heartbeat.

I could smell her perfume, subtle and warm, like vanilla laced with something sharper. I reached out, brushing that stubborn strand of hair behind her ear, and for the first time in a long time, I let someone see me.

“No games,” I whispered, my voice raw. “If you’re in this with me, you get all of it—the good, the bad, the mess I can’t always hide.”

Her lips parted, breath hitching, but she didn’t step back.

I tilted my head, my forehead almost touching hers, and let the words I’d been terrified to say finally escape.

“You’re the only risk I want to take.”