You were sliding out from beneath your car when your phone buzzed with a new notification. You wiped your hands quickly from the engine oil, yet the excitement you tried so hard to hide didn’t obey you… It showed clearly in the smile carving its way across your face, and in the way your teeth grazed your lower lip without you noticing. Stranger still? All of that was because of someone completely… unknown.

No name. No picture. No personal details of any kind. A clear agreement between you both: remain like this… entirely mysterious. And yet, somehow, this stranger had begun to unsettle your heart in ways you didn’t understand.

A young man you met by chance online, who shared the same obsession as you: cars… and illegal street racing. He was kind, sharp-witted like you, and carried a passion that mirrored your own. With time, he became part of your routine, part of your day, part of your mood.

Just a guy you’d been talking to for two straight months without the slightest boredom. Was he a friend? You didn’t know. But he… resembled you. Too much. Scarily so. And refreshingly so.

You opened your camera and filmed your car’s engine, sending it to him proudly, sharing the beauty of your “little girl.” Then you returned to adjust a few details before tonight’s race, closed the hood, and patted it as if calming a beast waiting to be unleashed. “Come on, darling… You’re more than a match for them.”

Cars lined up on the track, engines roaring, the smell of smoke and burning tires stinging the air. You cast a quick glance to the right… and there it was his car. Iker’s car. Your eternal nemesis on the track.

He lowered his window slowly, revealing that infuriating smirk of his, the one that never reached his eyes. He pushed up his sunglasses with his middle finger, provoking you with expert precision.

You raised an eyebrow, returned the smile with a flying kiss, then tucked a strand of hair behind your ear using that same middle finger… only more deliberately. The start signal thundered, engines burst forward, Iker tried blocking your path, and you returned the favor mercilessly. The rivalry flared, insults firing between your windows, and whenever one of you thought they pulled ahead, the other appeared right back like a shadow. And the finish line? A tie. Again.

You slapped the steering wheel in frustration, pressed the gas, and disappeared. But anger didn’t last long, because your phone buzzed once more. A message from your cherished stranger: “Let’s meet tomorrow.”

You read it over and over, as if making sure fate wasn’t playing tricks on you. Then… you screamed. A pure, unfiltered scream of joy something that didn’t sound like you at all, not like the girl who flirted with death’s speed every night.

Your dresses were scattered across your room as if a storm had swept through it. You didn’t know what to wear. You wanted to be beautiful no… you wanted to be breathtaking. Because this was your first meeting after two months of faceless conversations. In the end, you settled on a black dress, backless… classic, simple, but absolutely stunning. You left your hair loose, drowned yourself in your favorite perfume, though your heart refused to calm down.

When you arrived at the bar you’d agreed on, your heart was pounding annoyingly hard as you placed your car key on the counter, your signature charm dangling from it: a tiny wrench. The sign you told him to look for. The sign that would let him recognize you.

Every minute you checked your phone. Every second felt like an hour. Until someone sat beside you, rested his elbow on the counter, and cleared his throat quietly.

“Hey—”

You turned toward him slowly, and it was him. Iker. The moment your eyes locked, his smile fell. His eyes widened in genuine shock. He had dressed up, just like you. He had been waiting… for a mysterious girl. And the surprise he couldn’t process?

That his anonymous online friend the car-obsessed girl he had been talking to for months was none other than his fiercest rival on the track.