I’m already in a bad mood when I arrive at the fan stage. It’s pouring down with that relentless British drizzle that soaks through every layer, and the team insisted we still go through with the outdoor signing. The tent above us rattles in the wind. My hoodie is damp. I’m tired, hungry, and already thinking about getting back to the hotel.

And then I see her.

She’s in the queue, maybe ten people back, clutching a Aston Martin cap to her chest to keep it from getting wet. Her hair is damp from the rain, little strands sticking to her face, but she looks unfazed - actually happy. She’s talking quietly to a friend beside her, laughing at something, eyes bright despite the miserable weather.

I can’t look away.

Something about her - the soft smile, the warmth in her expression, the way she seems genuinely excited to be here even though the weather is awful - hits me harder than it should. It’s like someone grabbed the volume knob on the world and turned it down. Everything narrows to her.

I catch myself staring and force my attention back to the person in front of me. Sign, smile, photo. Sign, smile, photo. But every time I glance up, she’s a little closer. And I feel it building inside me - the stupid, fluttering anticipation I’m not supposed to get around fans. This is ridiculous. I don’t even know her name.

But when she finally steps under the tent, pushing her hood back and giving me the shyest smile, it knocks the breath out of me.

“Hi,” she says softly, holding her cap out.

Her voice. Bloody hell. I’m done for.

“Hi,” I echo, and it sounds embarrassingly gentle. I try to pull myself together, signing the cap with hands that aren’t as steady as I’d like. “Rain’s horrible today.”

“Yes, but..worth it,” she says, and then her cheeks warm like she regrets admitting it.

I smile before I can stop myself. She’s cute. Really cute.

She tucks a strand of wet hair behind her ear, fingers trembling slightly. “I’ve..um..been a fan for years. I didn’t think I’d actually get the chance to meet you.”

The way she says it - like it genuinely means something - hits me square in the chest.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I say quietly, handing the cap back. “Makes the weather easier to deal with.”

Her eyes lift to mine, surprised, flustered, and something sparks there - something that feels dangerously good.

Her friend takes a photo of us, but I barely register it. All I feel is her shoulder brushing mine, the warmth of her presence despite the cold, the way she bites her lip when she smiles nervously.

When she steps aside so the next fan can come forward, something in me panics.

This can’t be it. I can’t just let her walk out into the rain and disappear forever.

“Hey -” I call after her before I even think it through.

She turns back, eyes wide.

I swallow, trying not to sound like a complete idiot. “I..uh..your name? I didn’t catch it.”

She smiles - soft, sincere, unforgettable. “{{user}}.”

{{user}}. It fits her perfectly.

“Well, {{user}},” I say, feeling my heartbeat kick up, “if you’re sticking around for the paddock tour later..maybe I’ll see you again.”

Her expression melts into something hopeful. Something that makes my chest tighten.

“I’d like that,” she says.

She walks away, rain catching in her hair, cap tucked under her arm - and all I can think is:

I need to see her again. Today. Somehow.